Innocent Cinderella: His Untamed Innocent / Penniless and Purchased / Her Last Night of Innocence. Julia James
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He trailed his lips across the swell of her breasts just above her nipples. ‘To there.’ His tongue traced her cleavage and beyond.
‘And from here,’ he added, skimming a finger from the curve of one hip to the other. ‘Down to—here.’ He paused, lingering, deliberately tantalising. ‘So—what colour was it?’
She swallowed, her skin warming helplessly at his touch. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘So I can imagine taking it off,’ Jake whispered, and began to kiss her again.
Afterwards he slept again, one arm thrown across her, but she could not. The room was golden with sunshine now, and she felt part of it, part of all that warmth and promise, her perceptions heightened—coloured by what had happened to her here. Her body felt entirely different too, her skin seeming to tingle—to glow.
Nor was it because she was quite definitely aching a little. More than a little, if she was really honest.
And, more prosaically, she was hungry.
Careful not to disturb him, she slid from under his imprisoning arm and tiptoed across to her room, retrieving her dress and briefs en route and putting them away.
Then, picking out a straight, white linen skirt, a silky black top and some underwear, she went into the bathroom. She filled the tub with warm water, adding fragrant bath-oil, and sank into it with a sigh of contentment.
She thought, I’ve lost my virginity. And paused, because that was hardly an accurate description of what had transpired last night.
‘I didn’t lose a thing,’ she told herself defiantly. ‘I gave it away, freely, willingly and quite gloriously.’
The kind of behaviour she’d always secretly condemned. And yet she didn’t regret a thing. How could she?
In retrospect it had not been exactly what she’d anticipated, mainly because she’d not expected him to be quite so considerate— so gentle. From what she’d gleaned from the giggled conversations of female colleagues, it had seemed that men, carried away in the throes of passion, could behave very differently.
And she wondered if, perhaps, Jake had made allowances for her ignorance of what really turned men on.
She sat up abruptly. What the hell was she thinking? Was she deliberately trying to tarnish the sheer magic of what had happened between them?
It was wonderful, she thought. And he made it wonderful. There was no more to it than that.
Half an hour later, bathed and dressed, she went to his door and peeped in to see if he was awake, but he hadn’t stirred, so she made her way downstairs alone.
She could hear the buzz of conversation from the dining room, and knew suddenly that food could wait. That she didn’t want to see anyone just yet.
That she wanted to hug last night and its secrets to her a little longer.
She went through the drawing room and out on to the terrace, standing by the balustrade and looking out over the gardens. The lawns looked particularly inviting, she thought, as if they were waiting for her to dance across them—or turn a cartwheel for sheer joy.
Her face splintered into a grin. ‘As if,’ she told herself, and turned to go back in the house, nearly cannoning into Diana Halsay, who was standing right behind her.
‘Well, well,’ Diana said softly. ‘You look very pleased with yourself this morning. Has Jake taken pity on you at last?’ Her eyes swept Marin from head to foot in a piercing assessment. ‘Why, I do believe that he has.’ She laughed. ‘Not just belle-laide any more, but well and truly laid, if I’m any judge.’
Marin said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Only to be totally betrayed by the bright wave of colour that was sweeping from her toes up to the roots of her hair, making her burn with humiliation under the other’s all-knowing gaze.
‘I suppose it was inevitable,’ Diana went on, musing. ‘Even though it may not have been what he intended originally.
‘You see, I was never fooled by that “here’s my new girlfriend” routine. Graham may think it’s love, that Jake’s met his fate at last, but we three know that isn’t true—don’t we? That it’s all just a clever trick to get the sexy Mr Radley-Smith off the hook—the ultimate PR spin.’
She shrugged. ‘I suppose you hinted to Jake that I didn’t believe it. Making him realise he might need to take—stronger measures to make his little deception really plausible.
‘And you weren’t exactly unwilling, were you, my dear? Or subtle about what you wanted. In fact, everyone noticed how you’ve been trailing after him all weekend with your tongue hanging out. As Sylvia said, like a starving kid outside a baker’s window. And Jake, like a perfect gentleman, has duly obliged, thus killing two birds with one stone. So in one way you owe me a vote of thanks, or he might never have bothered.’
There was sudden nausea, hot and bitter, in Marin’s throat. She swallowed. ‘How—how dare you talk to me like this? I refuse to listen to any more.’
‘How very disappointing,’ Diana said brightly. ‘When at last we have something in common to discuss.’ She paused, a little smile curling her mouth. ‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ She lowered her voice intimately, sister to sister, talking about a pleasure shared. ‘Knows all the right buttons to press, as it were. I’m sure he rewarded you very generously for being such a good girl.’
She gave a little gurgle of laughter. ‘However, I presume he wasn’t in one of his more adventurous moods, or you probably wouldn’t be able to walk this morning.’
Marin was shaking, but she managed to lift her chin. ‘You’re crude,’ she said with quiet clarity. ‘Crude and unbelievably vile.’
‘And you, Miss Wade, are a fool,’ Diana retorted, shrugging. ‘Oh, I expect you’ll be enough of a novelty to become the flavour of the month for a little while.’ She shrugged. ‘After all, I’m sure he’s grateful if nothing else. But he also gets bored very easily—and very quickly. He’ll soon have exhausted all your limited possibilities.
‘And he certainly doesn’t do happy-ever-after, in case you were hoping.’
‘I wasn’t.’ Marin’s voice was ice, chipped from the shivering emptiness inside her. ‘But thanks for your concern, if that’s what it is. Goodbye, Mrs Halsay.’
She walked past Diana into the house, heading blindly across the drawing room and out into the hall to the downstairs cloakroom, her heart beating like a wild creature chased by hunters.
She shot the small, brass bolt on the door, then walked across to the tiled vanity unit with its scented soaps, hand lotions and pile of small, fluffy towels. Leaning over the shell-shaped basin, she retched drily and weakly.
As the feeling of nausea began to pass and she felt marginally calmer, she straightened, turning on the cold tap and letting the water run over the pulses in her wrists. She caught her reflection in the large gilt-edged mirror right in front of her.
Found herself looking at—understanding—what Diana Halsay had seen: all the signs of self-betrayal. The shadowed, dreaming eyes emphasised by the smudges of sleeplessness beneath them; the sensuous, luminous pallor of her skin and the soft mouth, blurred and swollen with kissing.
Well and truly laid. Diana’s words ate into her brain like acid. Corrosive, destructive.
Has Jake taken pity on you at last? Like a starving kid outside a baker’s window.
Comments that made her feel as if the skin had been flayed from her body. Because she could not deny that they held a basic truth.
I thought I’d been so clever, she thought, pretending to pretend, hiding what I was truly feeling. But I was only fooling myself. And all the time people have been laughing at me.
She poured water into her cupped