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His eyes gleamed like silver and onyx. ‘I want to see you, to see your flesh glow in the moonlight. I want to undress you.’ He moved his hand distractedly to find the zip of her dress, before sliding it down with unsteady fingers, kissing her neck as the silky material parted for him.
She gasped as she felt the touch of his fingers against her burning skin and the weight of his hands as they moved down to possessively cup the curve of her bottom. Her head fell helplessly against his shoulder as she felt her dress begin to slide down over her thighs.
‘God, princess, you’re driving me crazy,’ he ground out on a shudder as the dress pooled with a silken whisper at her feet. He lifted his head to gaze at her, taken aback by the sight of her frivolous underwear.
It was the last thing he had been expecting—she looked like a centrefold. A pure white lace bra through which her nipples peaked rosy and hard, and a matching wisp of a G-string through which he could distinctly see the red-gold blur of hair. And then there was the outrageous little suspender belt, onto which were clipped the sheerest stockings he had ever seen.
He very nearly lost control. What had happened to the plain cotton functional garments she’d been wearing the other day? The ones which he’d sent to the laundry whilst thinking that she was obviously of the gym-mistress persuasion?
He gazed at the slender curves of her body, his hand unsteady as it followed the path of his eyes. ‘You wore these for me?’ he questioned shakily, his fingers splaying over the barely perceptible curve of her belly.
‘Yes.’
‘Sweet, sweet torment. You look…wonderful.’ He swallowed. ‘Quite the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.’
She found herself blushing under that passion-glazed scrutiny. The underwear had been bought as part of her trousseau, for the honeymoon she’d been fated never to have.
Her worried mother had persuaded her to pack them. ‘Good underwear always makes a woman feel better about herself,’ she’d urged her. ‘And it seems such a pity to waste such beautiful lingerie.’
Not wanting a row, Sabrina had weakly agreed to take them and had stuffed them into the bottom of her suitcase, knowing that she would never have the heart to wear them. And yet some instinct had urged her to slide them onto her scented and freshly bathed body before dressing to meet Guy this evening…Had she secretly been imagining that shining look of delight as he looked at her?
He dipped his head and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. ‘Get into bed,’ he ordered unsteadily, ‘while I undress.’
She slid between the linen sheets immediately, thankful that he wasn’t expecting her to undress him. Why, her hands were shaking even more than his.
She watched as he slowly began to unbutton his silk shirt, and in a reflex action her fingers slid up to clutch at her throat, their tips colliding with the thin gold chain from which hung a ring.
Her engagement ring!
Guy had bent to remove one of his shoes, and Sabrina took the opportunity to pull the sheet right up to her chin and to unclip the chain without him seeing. She was about to place it unobtrusively on the floor beside her when he glanced up to see her shrouded in the sheet, with only her face and bright hair showing, and he gave a lazy smile.
Maybe he was more old-fashioned than he gave himself credit for—because it pleased him to see that she was a little shy. ‘You look sweet,’ he murmured. ‘Very, very sweet.’
‘D-do I?’ Whereas he looked the antithesis of sweet. He looked strong and dark and very, very aroused. Maybe she should have been frightened by his hard, masculine body, but she was in too deep now. Too enthralled by him—too chained by the honeyed flutterings of desire.
His shirt fluttered to the ground and he left it where it lay with arrogant disregard. But when he turned his attention to the belt that was holding up his trousers, Sabrina surreptitiously allowed the chain to slither like a slim gold snake onto the carpet.
He kicked his trousers off and Sabrina hastily shut her eyes, only to open them to find him looking down at her, a kind of bemused tenderness on his face.
‘You are shy,’ he observed softly.
‘A little,’ she answered truthfully.
‘I like it.’
‘Do you?’
‘Mmm. But, then, I think I like everything about you. Your golden hair spread all over my pillow. Your skin as white as milk.’ Wearing only a pair of dark, silken boxer shorts, he lifted back the sheet and climbed into bed beside her. ‘Come here,’ he said softly, pulling her into the warm cradle of his arms.
She felt the shock of sensation as they tangled their limbs, his bare, warm flesh pressing against hers, and she gasped with a heightened sense of recognition.
He dipped his mouth to brush against a tiny, puckered nipple. ‘I find myself in the curious position of not knowing where to begin,’ he murmured. ‘Like a starving man being presented with the most fantastic banquet and being completely spoilt for choice.’
‘Guy,’ she stumbled helplessly, her eyes huge and dark. ‘So, do I kiss you?’ he mused. ‘Yes, I think so.’ His lips brushed lightly over hers, there and gone in an instant, leaving her mouth moistly open and expectant. ‘Or touch you here?’ A feather-light flicker of finger to nipple which made her shiver. ‘Yes, you like that, don’t you, my sweet torment?’
‘Y-yes,’ she gasped.
‘Or here?’ The tantalising graze of that same finger over the moist, warm centre of her panties and Sabrina gasped aloud. ‘You like that, too, don’t you?’
He looked down, losing himself in the black distraction of her eyes, and felt himself grow so hard that he thought he actually might explode. He struggled to rein in his feelings and then kissed the tip of her nose.
‘On second thoughts,’ he said thickly, ‘we’ve got all night.’
Guy awoke to the clear tinge of early morning. He narrowed his eyes in the direction of the unshuttered windows to see the first rose-gold shaft of the new sun. The very early morning.
He didn’t stir. By his side, Sabrina lay sleeping, her arms spread out in careless abandon across the rumpled bed. He had no wish to wake her—and not just because they’d fallen into a passion-sated slumber only a couple of hours back. No, he needed a little time to come to terms with what had just happened.
Well, he knew exactly what had happened. He felt his mouth dry. They had spent a whole night indulging every single sexual fantasy he’d ever had—and a few more besides. As if there were infinite variations and dimensions to the act of making love that he had never discovered before.
As if the world were about to end and they had greedily needed to discover every sensual pleasure known to man. Or woman.
He swallowed, his heart beginning a rapid drumming at the slow, inevitable stir of arousal. No, if he woke her now it would happen all over again—and, much as he wanted it to happen, he also needed to think.
Because, if he were being brutally honest, he’d behaved in a way that he’d never imagined he could. Had just spent the night making love to a stranger. To a woman who was beautiful, intelligent and engaging—but a stranger nonetheless.
He gazed again at the sky, which was now being pierced by a soft apricot light, and his mouth hardened. He was old enough and experienced enough to know that what had happened between them last night was rare. And yet he’d been reckless, out of control. He’d enjoyed it, yes, but that didn’t mean he approved of his actions.
‘Mmm!’ Beneath the sheet, Sabrina stretched her body sleepily.
Guy felt his heart rate increase as he looked down at the perfect outline of her slender body and felt the stirrings of desire spring into full and vibrant life. ‘And “mmm” to you, too,’ he said softly.
Sabrina opened her eyes and felt impaled by that lancing glance of steel-grey as seductive memories of the night danced tantalisingly through her mind. But reality brought with it disbelief. She had given herself to him, no holds barred. So now what? ‘What time is it?’ she said uncertainly.
‘Early.’ He leaned over her, his lean, hair-roughened torso just crying out to be touched. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?’ he teased.
Her doubts fled with the warm reality of his proximity. ‘That depends.’ Sabrina gave in to temptation and reached one finger up to touch a hard, flat nipple. He groaned, dipping his head to kiss her while one hand trailed down over her flat belly, to where she was hot and moist and ready.
He raised his eyebrows mockingly as he moved to lie over her, dropping tiny kisses on the flutter of her eyelashes and her lips. ‘Do you always wake up so pleasingly compliant in the morning?’ he murmured, reaching down the side of the bed to open another packet of contraceptives. His fingers came into contact with something hard and metallic and he impatiently shoved it aside until he found what he was looking for.
She could feel the hard tip of him nudging against her and her instant warm, sweet response. Last night he had not only brought her back to life, he’d made her feel his equal. There was nothing she could have done or said that would have shocked him, nor he her.
Sabrina was not about to start making odious comparisons, but she’d never known that lovemaking could be so free or so uninhibited. That it could have so many faces, and so many forms.
With a newly learnt and slumberously provocative pout, she took the condom from him.
‘Shall I deal with this for you?’ she whispered.
He gave a low laugh of delight, but the laugh was tinged with a certain amount of apprehension. Right then she could do what she liked with him, and he suspected that he would just lie there like a puppy and grin with pleasure. What the hell had happened to his habitual dominance? His need to orchestrate?
‘Deal away, princess,’ he drawled.
She pushed him to lie back against the pillow, and knelt over him, her long, bare thighs straddling him. ‘Quite appropriate, really,’ she said breathily, as she slowly inched the sheath down over the hard, silken length of him. ‘As you’re a dealer.’
‘Oh, God,’ he moaned. ‘God! Why are you taking so long?’
Her fingernails lightly teased at the delicate protection. ‘But it’s all your fault, Guy—you shouldn’t be so long,’ she teased.
He let her torment him until the condom was firmly in place and then he swiftly lifted her up and laid her on her back. Again he moved above her, but this time there was an inexplicable mixture of emotions on his face, his eyes so dark that Sabrina didn’t have a clue what was going on inside that head of his.
‘You know,’ he mused, and now it was his turn to tease her, the full tip of him nudging against her, ‘I always thought that girls who worked in bookshops would be so timid. So demure.’
‘And aren’t I?’
He smiled, but there was an odd edge to the smile. ‘No, you’re not,’ he groaned. ‘You’re a very bad girl indeed and you leave me no alternative than to do this to you…’
He thrust into her with such power that stars exploded behind her eyes, and he’d barely moved inside her before she could feel the first slow glimmerings of release. Drowning in honeyed sweetness, she turned her head distractedly from side to side on the pillow as wave upon wave of pure sensation left her shuddering and helpless in their wake.
Guy tried to make it last, but he was lost. This must be some kind of record, he thought as he felt the first sweet tug of his own release.
It was one of the best orgasms of his life, but it left him feeling curiously empty, as though she had taken something from him he had not intended to give. He slowly withdrew from her to find her watching him with dazed disbelief, and his smile was wry as he kissed her.
‘Go to sleep now,’ he urged. ‘Go to sleep.’
And only when her breathing became steady did he slip silently from between the sheets.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_30be4bc6-6ab6-586b-b9cf-4814882831cd)
WHEN Sabrina opened her eyes again, the space on the bed beside her was empty. She gazed around the room, listening out for the sounds of activity in the bathroom, but there was only silence.
She sat up in bed and yawned, noticing that Guy’s clothes were gone. She ran her fingers back through her tousled hair and wondered where he was. Rubbing her eyes, she picked up her watch. Ten past seven. Very early. So where could he be?
She clambered out of bed and went into the bathroom, where she found most things she needed, including a courtesy toothbrush, still wrapped in its Cellophane paper.
She wandered back into the bedroom just as the phone started ringing, and she picked it up with a smile on her face.
‘Guy?’ she said, thinking how pampered she sounded.
But it wasn’t Guy. The voice was female—a husky voice which was edged with suspicion.
‘Who is this, please?’
Sabrina wondered fleetingly whether she should give her name. No, better not. ‘This is a friend of Guy’s,’ she answered.
‘A friend?’ The voice sharpened. ‘And where is he, please?’
‘He’s gone out.’
‘Where has he gone?’ asked the voice impatiently.
Suddenly Sabrina had had enough. The woman was speaking to her as if she were a chambermaid! ‘Who would like to know?’ she asked softly.
The voice acquired a sudden brittle ring. ‘This is one of Prince Raschid’s representatives. The Prince is keen to learn whether Mr Masters has managed to acquire the painting he was so anxious to secure.’
Sabrina very nearly dropped the phone. ‘I really have no idea where he’s gone,’ she said slowly, still reeling from the fact that Guy Masters was doing deals for princes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘The Prince is paying Mr Masters an extremely large commission—for which we would obviously expect him to be instantly accessible,’ said the voice icily. ‘And whether or not he chooses to jeopardise that commission by using his time in Venice to concentrate on his love affairs, instead of paying attention to the work in hand, is obviously something which the Prince will be very interested to hear about.’
Sabrina drew in a deep breath, trying to remember that the customer was always right. ‘Isn’t there someone else who can deal with your query?’
There was silence. ‘The Prince will only deal with the owner of the company. Not his minions. Goodbye,’ said the woman, and put the phone down.
The owner of the company? The company that paid for this hotel room? Sabrina stared down at the receiver, then walked over to the desk, which was covered with neat sheaves of paper.
She hunted around until she found what she was looking for—a letterheaded sheet of business notepaper stating, ‘Guy Masters. Dealer in fine art’, and an address in what was probably one of the most famous and exclusive streets in London.
Sabrina felt dizzy. Sick. He had lied. Just a little lie—but a lie all the same. What else had he lied to her about? she wondered as she hunted distractedly around the room for her discarded panties. All those things he’d said. He’d implied…
She drew in a deep, unsteady breath as she clipped up her bra. She remembered his words as she’d gazed up with wide-eyed admiration at the hotel’s beautifully faded façade. ‘The company pays for it.’
He had deliberately played down his wealth and his influence—which begged the question why? Did he think that if she found out just how rich he really was, he might never get rid of her? And was that why he had disappeared so conclusively this morning, despite knowing that she would probably be feeling vulnerable?
She had just slithered into her panties when the phone rang again, and she snatched it up without thinking.
‘Signor Masters, please,’ said an Italian-accented voice.
Feeling that she’d already been down this road, Sabrina sighed. ‘He isn’t here.’
‘Could you please give him a message?’ asked the voice.
Curiosity overrode caution. ‘OK,’ said Sabrina tentatively.
‘This is Air Executive at Venice Airport. We need him to confirm his seat on this afternoon’s flight out to London. A water-taxi has been booked for two-thirty, as requested.’
A flight out today?
‘I’ll tell him,’ said Sabrina in a dazed and hurt voice, then replaced the receiver.
The bastard! The cheating, lying bastard! Another lie! How many more would she discover? He had told her that he was staying for a few days—just as she was. Maybe he had always planned to leave just as soon as he had taken her to bed—he probably hadn’t reckoned on her falling into it quite so quickly.
She felt the sickening plummet of her stomach as the reality of what she had done began to sink in. She had slept with a stranger. It had been the most heart-stoppingly beautiful night, yes, but Guy hadn’t even been able to face her this morning. And that was how much he cared about her. At least he was allowing her to make the decision to leave herself, rather than having to eject her.
Face it, she told herself with a bitter pang of regret, you’ve been used. The classic one-night stand. But what had she expected? No woman would ever receive courtesy and consideration from a man like Guy Masters—not when she had ended up in bed with him on a first date.
Her heart racing, Sabrina slithered the silvery-blue dress over her head and located first one shoe, and then the other.
She looked around at the sumptuous fittings of the room, feeling more out of place with each second that passed. This was not her kind of world. Guy was not her kind of man. Get out now, she told herself—now while you still have some pride left.
He was probably downstairs on the lookout in the huge marble foyer, waiting until she had gone back to her own hotel and the coast was clear for him to return to his suite.
