Because that was all it was. Wasn’t it?
He tightened his grip on the wheel as they drove back to the house. That was all he’d allow it to be. She was leaving for London. But he hoped she’d remember this evening fondly and think of him.
The garage door rolled up, he slid into the parking spot, killed the engine and they both climbed out. He rounded the car, took her hand. ‘There’s something I want to show you before we go inside.’ He led her to an enclosed garden at the side of the house, where a patch of velvety lawn bordered a garden of tea roses and the air was heavy with the scent of rich earth and the river.
And watched her jaw drop, her eyes widen in the soft light. It warmed him all the way through.
Sophie stared, unable to believe her eyes. A quilted throw lay on the lawn. A bottle of champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket alongside a cute terracotta pot crammed with cream roses. The scene was lit by a couple of Moroccan lamps, their intricate filigree silhouetted against the candle’s warm glow. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Jared Sanderson, at your service.’ She turned her gaze on him and he smiled at her. ‘You wanted to make love under the stars? Well, here we are.’ He glanced up, waved a hand. ‘Complete privacy under the Southern Cross at moonrise. Couldn’t have asked for a better night.’
Oh. It looked like something out of a movie and her heart rolled over in her chest. ‘But how?’ she whispered. ‘When…?’
‘Magic. Aided by a little modern technology called a phone.’ Jared stepped to her, turned her in his arms. The lamp glow sheened her skin. Her feminine fragrance drifted to his nostrils. He wanted slow and dreamy, but the sight of her, almost ethereal in the glow, nearly undid him. He tugged her down with him onto the quilt.
And while he popped the cork and poured the fizzy liquid into two crystal glasses, she gathered the roses to her nose. ‘And chocolates…’ She set the blooms down to grab the box, rip off the cellophane and pluck one out. ‘This is like a dream.’
‘So it is.’ He felt the smile touch his lips, then his heart, as he offered her a glass, raised his own and clinked it to hers. ‘To dreams.’
‘To dreams.’ She raised the crystal flute, took a sip, then lifted a chocolate to his lips. ‘Share.’
He bit off half and his mouth flooded with caramel while she popped the remainder into her mouth and their gazes meshed and held. Even as she slid slowly down onto the quilt.
‘Tonight I want to watch you come.’ He saw her eyes widen, darken and for a few erratic heartbeats he gazed down at the vision sprawled beneath him. Her skin was flushed, as if she had a fever, a fever that put blooming roses in her cheeks and an extra spark in her eyes.
Then she was reaching for him and he followed her down and she had her hands in his hair, her fingertips scoring his scalp. And that spark in her eyes was a luminous topaz as she wrapped her hands behind his head and yanked him closer and murmured, ‘So what are we waiting for?’ against his lips.
His mouth dropped onto hers and his tongue plunged inside to savour her soft, full lips, her rich, dark drugging taste, so potent he felt light-headed with it.
Deliberately, he slowed his movements, cruising a hand over her knee, her outer thigh, then the tender inside of her leg and up…to find the barrier over her feminine hot spot already damp. For him. The knowledge vibrated through his body.
He lifted his mouth to trace a path over her jaw, to nibble his way down her neck, over her breast. To push her bra out of the way and roll her nipple between his lips. To taste its salty sweetness on his tongue and hear her suck in a sharp breath between her teeth while her restless fingers plucked at his hair and shoulders.
He could feel her heart galloping against his fingers and he wondered if she could hear his own. Because he’d never known it to beat this way before. This strange achy, urgent way that made him feel as if he were being pulled in opposite directions.
Shaking the confusing feeling away, he slid his fingers around her torso and unsnapped her bra. ‘Let’s lose the clothes.’
‘Yes.’
He tugged her up onto her feet so that they stood toe to toe. He stripped off his shirt, tossed it behind him while he watched her slip out of her blouse. Pull off her bra. Shimmy skirt and panties over her hips and down those amazingly long legs.
His blood pulsed through his body, throbbed in his erection, pounded low and insistent in his ears. She left him spellbound. He forgot to draw breath. Forgot to move until she reached out, undid his trousers with quick fingers and shoved them to his ankles. His boxers next. He stepped out of them, kicked them away. Then he realised the rest of her had followed her hands to the floor and was crouched in front of him.