The Bedroom Barter (19 page)

He sighed. 'Chellie, I've approached all this in the wrong way. Made a complete mess of it.'

'On the contrary,' she said. 'Everything's crystal-clear.

You need to get on with your own life too, and you can't do that while you still feel responsible for me. So it would be convenient if I was out of the way.' She gave a taut smile. 'So maybe I'll take you up on your offer, after all.'

'Understand this,' Ash said. 'I am not trying to get rid of you. At least, not in the way you think.'

'How many ways are there?' she demanded raggedly. 'Not that it matters. Because I don't have to sleep on it. I'll take your kind offer, and be out of here tomorrow.' She paused. 'And I'll pay you back every single cent,' she added fiercely. 'No matter how long it takes.'

'In that case,' he said, apparently unmoved by her vehemence, let's drink a toast—to the future.'

Chellie shrugged and lifted her glass. 'To the future,' she echoed, and drank defiantly.

But inside her there was pain. In a few moments he would be leaving for St Hilaire, and tomorrow her last sight of him would probably be from the window of some plane.

Why was he making her leave like this? Had he suddenly heard that his girlfriend was arriving, and didn't relish having to explain Chellie's presence in her home?

If that was the case, she had very little time left.

Oh, please, she appealed silently to the listening Fates. Let me have my single moment—my one night—and I'll take the heartbreak when it comes.

Aloud, she said, 'Is it wise to drink if you intend to drive?'

'Obviously not,' he said. 'But Corney will take me, if I ask him.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Of course. How silly of me.' She paused again. 'Tell me something—what is this music? I don't recognise it.'

'It's the
beguine
,' Ash told her. 'We have Rosalie to thank for it. She was born on Martinique, and sometimes her origins come roaring back.' He grimaced. 'Like tonight.'

'Well, I'm with Rosalie,' Chellie said 'It's beautiful.'

She began to move slowly round the room in time with the beat, giving herself over completely to the haunting rhythm, swaying her hips gently as she danced, allowing her natural grace full rein, without inhibition.

She did not need to glance over her shoulder to know that Ash was watching her, his eyes locked on her as if mesmerised.

Perhaps, she thought, her heart beginning to bump, the night was not over yet, after all. Perhaps…

His voice reached her softly, but urgently. 'Chellie— whatever you're doing, stop it.'

'Why?' She let the brief black skirt swirl enticingly as she swung round to face him, to challenge him, her emerald-dark eyes heavy with desire. 'You wanted this once—you wanted me to dance for you. So—why not now?'

'For all kinds of reasons,' he said almost grimly. He walked over to her and took her hand, pulling her towards him so that she was in his arms, but not touching. He held her firmly, moving with her in perfect cohesion.

'Dance with me, Chellie,' he directed quietly. 'Not for me. It's safer that way.'

'Why does it always have to be safe?' she demanded huskily. 'You come close, and then you back away. Why is that?'

'Because I always remember, just in time, I have no right to be that near.' His tone roughened. 'Because there are things about me—about this whole situation—that you need to know. Things that we have to talk about because they could change everything.'

'No,' she said, her voice shaking. 'You don't have to tell me—anything. It isn't necessary. Because I already know what you're trying to say.'

'You
know
?' He halted, staring at her. 'Was it Laurent?' he asked sharply. 'Did he say something?'

'No, nothing like that' Chellie hunched a shoulder. 'He— he was very discreet I—just guessed. I—I'm not a complete fool.'

'Oh, dear God.' His voice was almost blank. 'You have to let me explain…'

'No.' She spoke on a note of desperation. 'I know—and that's enough. I don't want everything spelled out for me, Ash. Spare me that, please.'

He said heavily, 'If that's what you want.' He hesitated. 'I didn't intend any of this, Chellie—not for a moment. You have to believe that. And I should never have allowed it to happen.'

'And there's something you should know too.' She looked up at him, her eyes pleading as they met his. 'I— don't care.'

He sighed. 'Then maybe you should.'

'Even if I swear that it will make no difference—that I'll leave as planned?' Her fingers bit into his arms through the thin shirt. 'Ash, I promise you I won't be a nuisance. Whatever happens between us will be our secret always, and I'll never pressure you in any way. Or ask you for anything you can't give.' She swallowed. 'You must believe that. No one will suffer because of this.'

'You don't think so?' His crooked smile held bitterness. 'I wish I could be so sure.'

'Unless you don't want me,' she said. Her voice trembled. 'Is that the real truth, Ash? Is it that simple.'

'Oh, I want you,' he said. 'And have done from the moment I first saw you. On the damned boat I hardly had an hour's sleep, and I was fighting all the time to keep my hands off you.'

'Then don't go tonight,' she whispered. 'Stay here. Stay with me—please.'

'Wild horses,' he said softly, 'could not drag me away.'

And he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the room, through the shadowed hallway to the stairs beyond.

In her bedroom, the lamp on the night table had been lit and the cover on the bed toned down.

Ash put Chellie gently on her feet. He framed her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes, his smile faintly troubled.

'You're trembling,' he told her quietly. 'What is there to frighten you?'

I wish my hair hadn't been hacked off. I wish I wasn't feeling so awkward and inexperienced. And, most of all, I wish I was beautiful, with blonde hair and perfect teeth.

'Only myself,' she said. 'I'm scared of disappointing you.'

A faint laugh shook him. He drew her close, resting his lips against her hair. 'Now, how could you possibly do that?'

'Because it's happened before.' Her voice was a thread. 'He said I—I didn't know what to do to satisfy a man. That I was useless—not a real woman.'

'Dear God,' he said bleakly, 'But you must surely have known it wasn't true? Or were your previous experiences equally disastrous?'

She shook her head. 'I didn't have any. Ramon was the first. The only way I can judge myself.'

There was a silence, then he said quietly, 'I'm sorry, Chellie. I didn't know. I thought…' He paused again, 'Oh, to hell with what I thought.'

She closed her eyes, breathing the warm, clean scent of him. 'You said you'd had this fantasy about me, which you'd now fulfilled.' She tried to smile. 'Maybe we should keep it like that and I should quit while I'm ahead.'

'Firstly,' Ash said, very gently, 'do not—ever—confuse me with Ramon again. Secondly, and more importantly, my original fantasy has changed a little since this afternoon. You're still exquisitely naked, but now you're in bed with me, in my arms, and I can touch as well as look. And I dream that you're kissing me—that your body's opening to me. That you're taking me into you so deeply it's almost an agony. And that you're sighing my name as you come.'

'Oh, God,' she said. She was still trembling, but now it was with a longing she had no need to disguise. She could feel the heat rising in her veins, bring a soft, awakened flush to her skin.

She put her arms round his neck, drawing him down to her. Just before his lips met hers, she whispered, 'You dream the most wonderful things.'

'And now we'll make them come true,' he said. 'Together.'

His mouth was warm as it caressed hers, and tender too, his passion carefully held in check. Waiting, she knew, for her.

She responded ardently, her lips parting beneath his, longing for the kiss to deepen, to offer the intimacy she longed for.

She was not disappointed. At once his arms tightened round her, and she felt the hot invasion of his tongue exploring the inner sweetness of her mouth.

When he raised his head the blue eyes were drowsy, clouded with desire. His fingers skimmed her bare shoulders, lingering on each plane and curve as if sculpting her image, then moving down to the first swell of her breasts above the bodice, gently smoothing the warm flesh.

She turned her head, pressing her cheek to his hand with a small, choked murmur of pleasure and need.

His hand moved, found the zip at the side of the dress, and began to release it, letting the bodice peel away from her naked breasts.

His lips found her ear, teasing the lobe with his teeth, then moving down to plant soft kisses down the vulnerable curve of her throat.

'Just looking will never be enough again,' he whispered. 'I want all of you.'

Her breasts seemed to bloom as his hands stroked them, her nipples hardening in sheer delight under the tender, sensuous play of his fingertips. He cupped them gently, bending to adore them with his mouth, his tongue flickering on the sensitised peaks.

He undid the zip completely, allowing the dress to drift down and pool round her feet, leaving her in nothing but the minuscule G-string. She heard him catch his breath, then felt his hands moving on her in gentle, tantalising exploration, moulding the curve of her hips and the smooth softness of her thighs. Creating a slow, languid torment which ached deep within her.

She murmured something incoherent—pleading—pressing her burning forehead against his chest.

Ash slid down her last tiny covering, then lifted her from the tangle of clothing at her feet and placed her on the bed. He lay down beside her, drawing her close to him, finding her mouth with his.

When she could speak, she whispered, 'You haven't taken your clothes off.'

'There's plenty of time for that,' he returned softly. 'We have the whole night ahead of us—and this part of it's for you.'

He began to caress her again, his mouth following the passage of his unhurried hands down her body, finding every pulse, each soft, secret place. When, finally, he reached the parting of her thighs, his touch was as light as gossamer on her yielding womanhood, the cool, clever fingers creating an alchemy all their own as they stroked the tiny sheltered bud.

Chellie could hear the huskiness of her own breathing, the quickening throb of her heart as her body responded helplessly, adoringly, to the delicate intensity of pleasure that he was building for her.

Her body was writhing in a fever of excitement as he brought her again and again to the brink of the unknown, his lips on her breasts, tugging sweetly at her aroused nipples, circling them with his tongue, then moving back to her mouth, biting sensuously at her lower lip.

The spiral of sensation mounting inside her was suddenly too wild—too consuming—and in some far reeling corner of her mind she understood that this was complete and utter surrender. That she could faint—that she might die—but she would never be able to—stop—because it was—too late, and all control was gone.

And as she reached the ultimate, glittering peak, and pleasure took her like a sea wave, tossing her in endless billows of rapture, she felt tears on her face and heard herself moaning his name.