Say it with Diamonds...this Christmas: The Guardian's Forbidden Mistress / The Sicilian's Christmas Bride / Laying Down the Law. Sandra Marton
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of his bedside table. He selected a condom and drew it on. When he returned to her body, he did not rush. Neither did he attempt any kind of weird or wonderful position, for which she was grateful. Sarah wanted to look into his face when he was inside her; wanted to hold him and love him as she’d always wanted to.
She tried not to cry out when he finally entered her. But she couldn’t quite manage to contain herself, a raw sound escaping her throat. Do not fall apart, for pity’s sake, she lectured herself. But there was a great lump in her throat and tears were threatening.
Nick’s concern was instantaneous. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, smoothing her hair back from her face and staring deep into her by then glistening eyes. ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’
What an ironic thing to say!
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ she insisted, though her voice sounded artificially high. ‘Would you mind kissing me, please? I like to be kissed a lot.’ Anything to stop him staring down at her in that thoughtful fashion.
‘My pleasure,’ he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.
It was a kiss that might have been the kiss of true love, if she hadn’t known differently.
How hungry it was, how passionate … how heartbreaking.
When his body began to move in tandem with his tongue, her fragile emotions were forgotten as the physical experience took over. With each surge of his flesh she could feel the coil of desire tighten within her. It was exciting, yet frustrating at the same time. She wanted to come. But as the seconds turned into minutes there was no release for her, only an all-consuming heat that flooded her body and quickened her heartbeat to a point where her mouth was forced to burst away from his.
‘Help me, Nick,’ she sobbed as she dragged in some life-saving breaths.
‘Look at me,’ he commanded, cupping her face and stilling his flesh inside her.
She stared up at him, her eyes wide and wild, her mouth panting heavily.
‘Wrap your legs higher around my back,’ he advised. ‘Then move with me. Lift your hips as I push forward, then lower them when I withdraw. There’s no hurry, Sarah. Just look into my eyes and trust me.’
Just look into my eyes …
She never wanted to look anywhere else.
Trust me …
Oh, God. How she wanted to do that too.
This is all a big mistake, Nick thought as she blindly followed his instructions. How long had it been since he’d been so damned nice and considerate in bed?
Who was this Nick who was suddenly caring so much?
He didn’t approve of him. Couldn’t trust him. He might start thinking he’d changed.
Which was impossible. He was what he was and he’d never change. This was just a momentary aberration. He’d get over it.
The trouble was he didn’t think he’d get over it in one night.
He began moving faster, and so did she, her eyes growing wider and more desperate-looking.
Her first spasm was so strong Nick almost came then and there, but he held on, watching with wonder as her face became suffused with a seductive mixture of surprise and sheer joy. He’d never seen a woman look like that before. Never felt a woman who felt the way she did, either.
Finally he surrendered his control, astonished at the intensity of his own climax, and the strange lurch to his heart when she pulled him down on top of her.
‘Oh, Nick,’ she cried, and nuzzled into his neck. ‘Oh, my darling …’
Nick didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.
He’d never felt so confused. All he was sure of was that he’d never felt what he’d felt just now when she’d called him her darling. The endearment had wrenched at his very soul, that soul which he’d always imagined was too dark for such sentiment.
As he lay there with her cuddled up to him, Nick gradually became sure of something else: he didn’t want to frighten Sarah off any more.
Which rather changed his plans for the rest of the night.
Nick didn’t delude himself that this more romantic side he’d unexpectedly discovered within himself would last. But, for now, he found it quite irresistible. He could not wait to make love to Sarah again, could not wait to see the delight in her eyes.
But first, there was something he had to do. Carefully he disentangled himself from her arms and headed for the bathroom, where he washed himself fresh and clean then returned to the bed. He was about to stir her with some kisses when the phone next to his bed began to ring.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SARAH woke to the sound of a phone ringing. For a split-second she had no idea where she was. But the feel of Nick’s naked body pressed up against hers swiftly cleared the haze in her head, everything coming back in a rapid series of flashbacks.
Her, coming to his bedroom wearing that outrageous teddy.
Him, carrying her to the bed.
Her, lying back against these satin pillows.
Him, making love to her.
But then came another memory: she’d called him darling afterwards.
When the phone continued to ring, Nick sighed then rolled over to reach for it.
No, don’t, was her instinctive reaction.
But his hand had already swept the receiver up to his ear.
‘Yes?’ he said rather abruptly.
Sarah clutched the sheet up over her breasts as she sat up, pushing her hair back off her face at the same time. Who on earth could it be?
Not Chloe, she hoped, trying to worm her way back into Nick’s life with a million apologies.
‘For how long?’ Nick asked in concerned tones. ‘How bad are they?’
She had no idea whom he was talking to or what it was about. But it didn’t sound like Chloe.
‘No, I think you’re right, Jim. Don’t listen to her. She has to go to hospital. Now.’
Sarah sucked in sharply. Something was wrong with Flora!
‘I don’t think we should wait for an ambulance,’ Nick told Jim quite firmly. ‘Get her into the back of the Rolls and I’ll drive you straight to St Vincent’s. I’ll just throw some clothes on.’
Slamming down the phone, he tossed back the sheet and jumped up.
‘Flora’s having chest pains,’ he threw over his shoulder as he strode across the floor towards his walk-in wardrobe. ‘I’m taking her to the hospital.’
‘Can I come too?’ Sarah asked, her heart racing with alarm.
‘No, it’ll take you too long to dress,’ he said as he returned to the bedroom, jeans already on, a blue striped shirt in his hands.
‘But I—’
‘Let’s not argue about this, Sarah.’ He shoved his arms into the shirt’s sleeves and drew it up over his shoulders. ‘I’ll call you from the hospital.’
‘You haven’t got any shoes on,’ she pointed out when he headed for the door, shirt flapping open. ‘You can’t go to a hospital without shoes!’
He grumblingly went back for some trainers, then flew out of the door. Sarah heard him running down the stairs. Then she heard nothing.
A shiver ran down her spine, nausea swirling in her stomach at the possibility that Flora could be having a heart attack. She might even die!
The