The Guilty Wife. Sally Wentworth
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looked at him, then said huskily, ‘Oh, it was very good. Do you always have that effect on the women you kiss?’
‘What effect?’
Slowly she reached up to touch his face, letting her fingers trace the line of his jaw. ‘Devastating,’ she admitted honestly.
He gave a sigh of satisfaction and pleasure. ‘Thank God for that! It would have been terrible if it had all been one-sided.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You—you mean it was like that for you too?’
‘Of course.’ Seton grinned. ‘But perhaps we should do it again and make sure.’
It was what Lucie wanted more than anything else in the world, but some note of caution made her say, ‘This—you... It’s all happening so fast. I don’t know you.’
Seton laughed. ‘Well, I don’t know you either, but I’m willing to take a chance.’ Her face changed, became stricken, and he said quickly, ‘Lucie! What is it? I was only joking.’
‘Yes—but you don’t know me.’
‘So we’ll get to know each other. We’ll do that old-fashioned thing they used to call courting. We will go out together, and we’ll take our time.’
‘And—and this?’
Realising what she meant, he held her closer and said softly, ‘I won’t rush you into anything. I’ll let you set the pace. But I would like to kiss you again. Now. May I?’
But he didn’t wait for her to agree; his hands were already cupping her face, tilting her head so that his lips could seek hers, so lightly at first, softly exploring, tracing with tiny kisses the length of her upper lip, gently biting at the fullness of the lower one. Then, using the tip of his tongue, he made her open her mouth and let him in, and suddenly his lips weren’t gentle any more, but hot and forceful and demanding.
Lucie gave a small moan and closed her eyes, letting him take her with him on a deep spiral of pleasure, where the world was lost and the only sensations were those of his closeness, of the flame of passion that erupted through her veins—the need, the desire, the knowledge that for her nothing in the world had ever been as wonderful as this, that nothing else mattered so much.
Seton’s shoulders hunched as he kissed her, his breathing quickened and he said her name over and over again, his voice thick, the murmured name mingling with her own gasping sighs. His kiss deepened with passion until he drew back suddenly, remembering his promise. Lifting his head, he held her against his chest and she could feel the beating of his heart.
‘I’m afraid,’ she said, with an honesty he couldn’t possibly understand.
‘I know, but there’s no need to be, my darling. I’ll take care of you.’
‘Please—I think you’d better go now.’
‘You don’t trust me, huh?’ He smiled tenderly down at her. ‘Well, maybe you’re right; I’ve never found myself in this kind of situation before.’
‘What kind?’
His eyes crinkled and he gave her lips the merest touch with his. ‘Wild about you, of course.’ And then he opened the door and was gone as Lucie still stood with eyes open wide in astonishment.
Seton came to collect her the next morning, buoyant, on a high, reaching out to kiss her as soon as he arrived. Lucie, too, was exhilarated by excitement, but was also full of nervous tension. She could see happiness opening before her but was afraid to grasp it, so she held him off.
‘No! Don’t touch me,’ she cried out, knowing that she would be lost if he held her.
But he put his hands on her shoulders and said, ‘Lucie? What is it?’
‘This—this attraction you feel. It could be just a chemical thing, something that’s hit us out of the blue.’
‘Ah, so you admit it hit you too,’ he said with satisfaction.
Ignoring that, Lucie said, ‘How do you know it won’t go away as suddenly as it came? You might wake up one morning and hate the sight of me.’
‘If I woke up with you beside me it couldn’t be anything but wonderful—perfect,’ Seton said simply.
She tried to argue with him, to point out that something that had happened so quickly couldn’t possibly last. But Seton merely laughed and pulled her into his arms.
Lucie gave a sigh of frustration. ‘Oh, you big fool! Why won’t you listen to me? Take me seriously?’
But then he kissed her and immediately Lucie was lost again, and somehow she knew that she always would be, that whenever he kissed her it would always be like this, a total domination of her mind, her heart and her body. And yet she accepted it gladly, glorying in it, knowing that it was the same for him.
He was, she observed, unchangeable, and he proved it in the next weeks as he saw her as often as he could. That first week he was around all the time, driving her wherever she wanted to go, taking her out to eat, solicitous about her injured wrist. And after the first week, when he had to go back to London to work, he put a great many miles on the Jaguar as he drove down to take her to dinner and the theatre—place that she would never have gone to normally. He didn’t seem at all short of money, and although he didn’t throw it around he was always very generous, booking the best seats at the theatre or cinema, tables at well-known restaurants.
Although he obeyed the rules she’d set down for them to get to know each other better and not to rush things, Seton was quite capable of trying to break down her defences. Often, when they said goodnight, he would kiss her so passionately that it almost broke her resolve, but somehow she managed to push him away, to send him home empty and unfulfilled, as frustrated as she was herself.
It was a long, hot summer, and one day, when they’d known each other about six weeks, Seton hired a boat for the day and rowed her down the river that meandered through the old town, making sure she had cushions to make her comfortable, although her wrist was almost mended now. He’d brought a picnic hamper and dangled a bottle of wine over the side to keep it cool until they came to a quiet spot of trees and dappled sunlight. There Seton moored and helped her onto the bank.
He laid a rug down on the grass and they ate and drank, listening to old, trad jazz tunes on a cassette player. He had taken off his shirt because of the heat and, although she tried to resist, Lucie found her eyes drawn to his broad, smooth chest and the muscles that rippled in his shoulders and arms. The slight breeze made the leaves above them move, casting shadows that played across his body, first highlighting a shoulder, then the tiny, fascinating nipples, then the length of his back as he turned away from her to repack the hamper.
It was erotic, sexy, as if some mischievous Cupid had deliberately set out to tease and tantalise her senses. Lucie’s throat tightened and she felt a fierce surge of longing, an emotion so strong that almost of its own volition her hand lifted and she touched his back, letting her fingers trail down the length of his spine. She felt a great quiver of awareness run through him before Seton turned swiftly to face her. The need for her was there in his eyes—deep, intense concupiscence. A need, she knew, that was mirrored in her own.
‘Lucie.’ He said her name on a long, low breath of discovery and pleasure. Reaching out a trembling, unsteady hand, he put it on her cheek and slowly stroked her face, holding her eyes all the time. Then he came up on his knees so that he could bend to kiss her.
His lips were hot, eager, quivering with anticipation. Putting her hand on his shoulder, Lucie felt his skin taut and damp with perspiration, not from the heat but from the excitement of knowing that she wanted him. His breathing ragged, Seton lifted his head for a moment, his lips parted as he stared at her. Without hesitation, Lucie put her hand behind his head and drew him down to her again, returning his kiss with a fire she had never shown before.
With a cry, Seton bore her back onto the rug,