The Perfect Match?. PENNY JORDAN
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On the contrary, he recognised that she was an extremely well-grounded and femininely powerful woman.
As he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him, he reached out instinctively to touch her face. Immediately Chrissie turned her head and pressed her mouth to the hard palm of his hand.
Guy heard himself groan as he drew her towards him with his other hand. Her body fitted perfectly within his, as he would fit perfectly within hers.
He didn’t know which of them was trembling harder as he bent his head and replaced the hard warmth of his palm against her lips with the even harder warmth of his mouth. He only knew that the tiny, agonized sound of delight she made beneath his kiss was echoed a thousandfold deep within his own body.
Chrissie could feel herself trembling violently as she gave herself over not just to Guy’s kiss, but to the new role that fate had devised for her. She had never imagined minutes ago when she opened the door to him that she was opening the door to her future. She had never been the kind of woman to rush into any kind of physical intimacy—just the opposite—yet here she was, knowing that no matter how far the intimacy went between the two of them, it could be nowhere near as intense as the silent, emotional bonding they had already shared.
Never had she imagined that she could react like this to a man’s touch, to his kiss, that she could want him so immediately and so overwhelmingly, that she could feel the urgent almost violent desire within him to tear aside the barriers of their clothing and know her utterly and completely and to share that desire, to know just how much he ached for the feel of her skin against his, beneath his, and how much she shared and returned that ache.
She could hear him whispering beneath their shared hungry kisses how much he wanted her, how much he had longed for her in his life—unintelligible, disjointed words that ran together from a raw trickle of sound into a sensual flood.
How long they stood there, kissing, touching... wanting, Chrissie had no idea; she only knew that when he finally released her, she was trembling so much she could hardly stand up, that her mouth felt swollen and bruised, that his mouth looked... looked...
She swallowed as she looked at him and he reached reassuringly for her hand, then held it tenderly in the firm, warm grip of his own. ‘Coup de foudre, I believe the French call it.’
‘They would,’ Chrissie replied shakily. She ached to be back in his arms. She ached all over for him, she admitted, inside and out, and it was nothing like the aches and pains she had been suffering because of her bard physical work cleaning up the cottage, nothing at all.
God, but he wanted her, Guy recognised. He wanted her so much that he didn’t know how he was managing to keep his hands off her. He had never considered himself to be a highly sexed man, but right now...
‘I’ve never experienced anything like this before,’ Chrissie confessed.
‘Good,’ Guy told her tautly, adding rawly, ‘I think I’d want to kill any other man who might have—’
Chrissie stopped him, shaking her head, but she knew what he meant. She felt equally savage and uncharacteristically jealous of any other woman who might have had the same effect on him as she quite obviously had had.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to try to come back down to normality, but it was almost impossible. ‘I want you so much,’ she admitted shakily. Then Guy was bridging the small gap between them and taking her back in his arms.
For several long minutes, the only sound was that of their increasingly passionate kisses and strained breathing. Chrissie had no idea which of them it was who lifted Guy’s hand to her breast; she only knew that the sensation of his holding her, touching her there, made her whole body jerk in a frenzy of physical need, a sensation like a jolt of electricity running straight from her breast to her womb, convulsing her whole body with a deep-rooted, aching need.
‘Please don’t, please don’t,’ she whispered huskily, even though she was the one who arched back against him, guiding his hand whilst he rubbed the tip of his thumb over and over her T-shirt-covered nipple until she was pleading frantically with him to soothe her aching flesh with the healing suckle of his mouth.
Chrissie had never pleaded with a man to make love to her before or imagined she might want to, but this whole situation was a world apart from anything she had experienced before, completely foreign territory to her, a place where the old rules, the old guidelines, meant nothing and where the only things she had to guide her were her own senses and needs and his.
When Guy tagged up her T-shirt in response to her frenzied pleas and fastened his mouth on the hard, swollen tip of her breast, Chrissie almost felt she might faint from the intensity of her pleasure.
She could hear his soft murmurs as he caressed her and could feel the need in his body. She ached to touch him, to explore him, to know him, and suddenly the fierce suckling of his mouth against her breast wasn’t enough to satisfy the urgent clamour of her physical response to him. Only one thing, one person, could satisfy and silence that.
Her hands trembling, she lifted them to cup his face and gently ease him away from her body. As he looked into her eyes, she dropped her hands and held one of them out to him and started to walk towards the stairs.
Her hand felt small and delicate, almost lost within the grip of his as he let her lead him, but as they started to mount the stairs, she felt him pull back slightly from her.
‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ she heard him telling her rustily.
Silently Chrissie searched his face before telling him with quiet dignity, ‘Yes, I do, but if you would rather not...’
Her honest directness made Guy’s heart ache for her. She was so trusting, so giving, so...so perfect.
‘You shouldn’t need to ask,’ he told her huskily, adding with a rueful, self-derogatory laugh as he looked briefly down at his own body, ‘The answer is, I’m afraid to say, rather too obvious.’
Chrissie couldn’t help it. She followed his gaze, her eyes widening in betrayal of her female response to the evidence of his male desire for her. A tiny kick of pleasure pushed up her heart rate and the temptation to reach out and run her fingertips exploratively along the hard ridge of his arousal was one she had to fight hard to resist, but her body language had already given her away and Guy’s visual reciprocal inspection of her was every bit as revealing of his own need.
For the first time in her life, Chrissie suddenly knew what it meant to feel sexually proud of her body, to know within the most inner core of herself that when she stood naked before Guy, it would be with pride and in the knowledge that her body, her femininity, her womanliness, would fill him with silent awe, with reverence, with arousal and need. As his nakedness would her.
She could feel his hand trembling slightly as she led the way to the small empty bedroom she was using.
Just for a second and only for a second as she opened the door and led him inside, she regretted the bareness of the scrubbed walls and floor, the plainness of the inflatable mattress with its simple white covering of bed linen she had brought from home. What, after all, did they need with the gaudy trappings of romance, with satin sheets and four-poster beds, rich brocades and thick carpets? They had all the richness, all the luxury, all the sensuality, they would need in one another.
Guy surveyed the plain bare room in silence. It smelled of fresh air and cleanliness and something far less easy to pigeon-hole—a scent, a perfume, an essence, which he recognised was hers.
‘You’re actually staying here?’ he commented, frowning slightly as he did so. The house was in one of the poorer parts of town, and whilst Haslewich was, generally speaking, a safe enough place to live and safer than most, there had been several incidents lately of youths brawling in the streets in this part of town and it was only a couple of streets away trouble had erupted recently with youngsters apparently buying drugs outside a local nightclub.
‘It seemed to be the most sensible thing to do,’ Chrissie told him.
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