The Only One. PENNY JORDAN
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indicating the cheque he had placed on her coffee table. ‘This …’ he picked it up and waved it tauntingly in front of her, ‘entitles me to certain….’
Before he could continue Brooke wrenched the cheque from his fingers and tore it to pieces, flinging the scraps of paper on the fire.
‘Now will you leave,’ she demanded, knowing that her cheeks were flushed with temper, and her eyes glittering with the fear she could feel inching through her, driving out her normal composure.
‘We made a bargain,’ Adam reminded her softly, ‘and I intend to make sure we both adhere to it.’
‘You can’t want me now, not knowing that I don’t want you,’ Brooke protested making a last desperate stand and measuring the distance between them. She was standing between Adam and the stairs; perhaps if she made a bolt for it, she could lock herself in the bathroom and sit it out until he decided to give up and leave. Undignified but….
‘Since I was never under that illusion in the first place, I don’t see why. You sold yourself to me,’ he reminded her. ‘Or is that something else you’ve conveniently forgotton?’
It was the look in his eyes that did it, panicking her into a wild headlong flight up the stairs, which she knew that she had lost when she heard him behind her. He grabbed her just as she reached the landing, his breathing still under control where hers was rapid and erratic. By some misfortune he had caught her just outside her bedroom door—it stood open, the old-fashioned half tester bed plainly in view.
‘Well, well, how convenient,’ he drawled, following her dismayed glance.’
Despite her height he picked her up as though she were a doll, kicking the door closed with one foot, and advancing towards the bed.
Having expected to be flung down on it, it came as a surprise to Brooke to find herself standing upright, Adam’s fingers manacling her wrists.
‘Well now,’ he drawled softly, ‘there are two ways of doing this. You can admit defeat— gracefully and charmingly as befits a lady …’ his voice lingered insolently over the noun, ‘or we can indulge in a little of the rough and tumble it seems so many of you ladies enjoy—a relic of the days when that was the way your ancestors won their rich brides perhaps? Which is it to be?’
He looked so controlled and indifferent, standing there watching her, that Brooke could hardly believe what she was hearing.
‘Either way it will be rape,’ she told him coldly. Too late now to bitterly regret her foolhardiness. Who was this man anyway? Her blood chilled as she remembered news stories of women abused and then murdered. Was this man….
The sound of his laughter as it filled the room, warm and genuine, threw her, stopping her terror-stricken thoughts in their tracks.
‘A nice try my dear, but hardly applicable.’ One hand unclasped her wrist, his thumb running slightly and tormentingly over the soft fullness of her bottom lip.
‘You have the most sensuously inviting mouth I’ve ever seen, and I wanted to feel it beneath mine, sweet and hot, the moment I set eyes on you. You’re no young girl just out of school to plead innocence and ignorance. You know exactly what you do to me when you look at me with those green-gold eyes.’
‘Rape …’ he laughed again. ‘It might be worth calling your bluff.’
He said it so with so much calm self-assurance that something inside Brooke snapped. Like all the others he couldn’t see beyond her looks; didn’t want to see beyond them. Just for a moment she wanted to hurt him as painfully as he had just hurt her.
‘Well, Brooke, which is it to be?’ His voice was soft, mesmeric almost, his thumb probing the closed line of her lips, its roughness oddly pleasant against her smooth skin. His other hand was travelling up her arm, his thumb tracing the line of the blue vein that pulsed against her skin. Anger and despair mingled in an explosive reaction. Brooke opened her mouth, her teeth snapping defensively against his thumb. Just in time he realised what she intended to do and drew back.
This time when his eyes darkened she was in no doubts about the emotions she saw mirrored there. Anger and a desire so intense that it stunned her. This time she was flat on her back, fighting for breath and for freedom as the weight of his body kept her there, precious little finesse in his actions as her angora jumper was pushed up to reveal the soft thrust of her breasts in her cream silk bra. The delicate cups were pushed aside as cavalierly as her jumper had been.
‘Very well, if this is the way you want it’
She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it quickly sucking air into her deprived lungs, torn between humiliated shock and a tearing, searing pleasure that invaded her body when Adam opened his mouth over the centre of one rounded breast and tugged impatiently at the soft pink crest.
Her body’s response was electrically immediate. No one had ever touched her so intimately, and intermingled with a bitter fury that he should dare to do so was an undeniable physical response. Her body had gone rigid with the shock of his intimacy, her mind spiralling wildly out of her control as she fought to marshall her defences, but before she could utter a word Adam was releasing her, pulling her into a sitting position and matter-of-factly straightening her clothes, the sudden about-face stunning her.
‘Well, well,’ he drawled when he had finished. ‘You are a surprise package, aren’t you?’
‘Am I?’ Brooke’s chin tilted belligerently. Now that Adam was no longer touching her a little of her courage filtered back.
‘Well, there can’t be many virgins of your age still left,’ he told her mockingly. ‘You must be in your mid-twenties, and when one takes into consideration all your many physical attributes….’ His glance slid insolently over her body, resting for several seconds on the soft curve of her breasts. Remembering how he had caressed them only minutes before Brooke felt her face go a deep and unhideable scarlet.
‘You’re not gay are you?’
The matter-of-fact question stunned her into fresh silence, and then he started to laugh again, further adding to her humiliation. ‘No, something tells me that you’re not, so that doesn’t leave us with many alternatives does it? Are you going to tell me why, or are we going to sit here all night playing guessing games until I find out,’ he asked her pleasantly.
This can’t really be happening, was Brooke’s first thought. She had expected him to be furiously angry when she rejected him, which he had been, but this unexpected turn of events totally flummoxed her.
‘Why should you want to know?’ She was dismayed to hear herself sounding like a sulky, petulant adolescent.
‘Oh for a variety of reasons, including the very natural Curiosity of any man who a woman chooses as her first lover.’
Once she had assimilated the implications of his remark Brooke flushed angrily again.
‘I did not choose you as my lover,’ she stormed back at him. ‘You made totally false suppositions about me which led you to believe that I was sexually available—at a price,’ she finished bitterly.
‘And you did nothing to deny those suppositions,’ he reminded her calmly, adding, ‘and something tells me that I’m far from being the first male to make them. Is that the reason you’re still a virgin?’
He was far too astute Brooke recognised on a wave of trepidation. Far, far too astute.
‘You can hardly blame them you know,’ he added grinning at her. ‘That mouth …’ he traced the outline of it with his thumb before she could retreat out of range, ‘in fact everything about you, possesses an earthy sensuality that can’t help but turn men on.’
‘Looks, is that all your sex concern themselves with?’ Brooke derided angrily, ‘Don’t bother to answer,’ she told him. ‘I already know the answer….’
‘And because of that you’re waiting