Into Temptation Page 4

  ‘Oh….!’ The cry was literally dragged from her body as his tongue worked hard and lasciviously first against one taut tip, then the other, hands clamped underneath her, lifting her to his mouth. She felt utterly pliable in his hands, as if she had no bones, was simply some sweet, gooey confection he was feasting on. It hadn’t been anything like this with Rory. She hadn’t even known it was possible for it to be like this…

  ‘Is that good,’ he asked, lifting his head, making her surface from her delirium of desire.

  She couldn’t see his face, but knew that he was smiling. Smiling knowingly, at her, and her instinctive response to him… She registered a sudden twinge of shame. Was she really being this wanton? But she found herself unable to speak anything but the truth. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Very.’

  All at once, eager to feel his naked skin under her hands, eager to be an active participant, she dragged off his shirt, ran her hands over him, feeling with rising excitement the strongly-corded arms, muscular chest and well-defined stomach.

  Then all at once he took hold of her hands and pinned them behind her head, lowered his head to her breasts once more and took a nipple into his mouth. She almost fainted with the hot, sweet pleasure of it. She was honey, pure honey… She parted her legs in unspoken, instinctive invitation. He lowered his hand, and drifted his fingers across her thighs. Very deliberately, he pushed the flimsy material of her panties to one side, and lightly brushed the soft maze of hair underneath.

  Then, slowly, he moved inside, probing the moist, secret folds of her sex. Her body bucked helplessly against his hand, adoring the exquisite, unbelievably sensual invasion, and breathlessly anticipating the still more erotic act to come.

  She locked her hands in his soft, thick hair, blood pumping blackly through her veins like warm treacle. Then suddenly she needed to feel him too, to feel his response, hot and hard in her hand. Her shaking hands flew to his belt. Clumsily, she undid it, unzipped him and reached inside. Immediately he sprang free into her hand, and she took a sharp intake of breath. He was big – much bigger than Rory. A spark of fear lit inside her. Was it possible for a man to be too big?

  No. She was wet for him, deliriously, achingly wet. She gripped him, ran her hand up and down his length, hearing his breath quicken, marking his own heightened response. Then, without warning, he snatched away her hand, pushed her back onto his jacket and roughly pulled off her remaining underwear.

  Expertly, he parted his legs with the weight of his thighs, settled himself in between and drove all of his length hard into her unbearably sensitised, taut-yielding flesh. She would have cried out, except that he seemed to have stolen the very breath from her lungs. He filled her completely and utterly. She dug her fingers into his back, twisted her legs shamelessly around him without even being conscious of doing so, as he propelled mercilessly into her.

  Slowly she became aware of something insistent inside her. Something burgeoning and growing, an intense, budding pleasure washing up through her like a tide, reaching inexorably in between every grain of her being. She didn’t quite understand what it was, but knew, instinctively that she must grasp it, embrace it, move with it...

  The pleasure heightened, became more overwhelming with each expert thrust. She felt a release growing inside her in an intense wave, fast and insistent, unfolding, reaching, extending – then suddenly burning through her in a drenching, all-encompassing, white-hot explosion. She thought she might have called out his name.

  The first time she’d ever come with a man. Not with Rory, but with this stranger.

  And then, just as consciousness began to return she became aware he was reaching his own climax, his strong hands gripping her buttocks, holding her locked fast in position as he drove in, fast and pitiless. Suddenly with one final, deep, penetrating thrust, a sharp, agonised intake of breath he was finished.

  He lay back down and drew her into his arms, planting a delicate, lingering kiss on her bruised lips. She lay, dazed, in his arms, listening to the faint suck of the sea at the shore below, the slight breeze skimming the sand and stirring through the vegetation.

  So, that was why people raved about sex. Now, only now, did she understand.

  She wished she could see his face properly. But the moon had disappeared behind a cloud. All she could make out was the outline of his jaw. ‘That was wonderful,’ she whispered, eventually.

  ‘Come back to my room with me,’ he said. ‘Let me make love to you properly. Slowly. Somewhere where I don’t have to worry about the tide coming in.’

  He trailed a slow hand all the way from her neck down to her thigh. And immediately she felt desire flare again, lick deliciously and suggestively at her insides. He stood up, held out his hand, and helped her up. Once again, with a delicious frisson of attraction, she registered how tall he was.

  She straightened her clothes. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, looking down at the sand, ‘your jacket’.

  He shook it out and hooked it over his shoulder. ‘That’s what dry cleaners are for.’ He took her hand. ‘We’ll walk back along the beach. It can’t be far.’

  They set off. After just a few steps, she burst out laughing again.

  ‘Everything seems to amuse you tonight,’ he said. ‘What’s so funny now?’

  ‘I can’t believe what just happened, what’ – she added softly – ‘is still going to happen. I’ve never done anything like this before. It’ll probably come as a shock to you in light of what just occurred, but you’re only the second man I’ve ever slept with. And I still don’t know a thing about you – apart from the fact that your name is Jack Ward, that you own some company or other, and that you like to rescue women from villains.’

  ‘Well what would you like to know?’ he asked. ‘Let’s see. I’m an only child, my favourite colour is blue, my favourite food is Chateaubriand, my middle name is Adam, and I live in London. There. Do you feel more secure in my company now?’

  She grinned. ‘Not remotely. But that’s partly the thrill of it.’

  He stopped suddenly, took her by the shoulders and kissed her again hard. ‘Let’s hurry,’ he said.

  Once back at the hotel Amber hesitated: seeing the familiar granite building was sobering.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s just… I work here,’ she said. ‘And I value my job. If I go in the front entrance – or even through the back – then someone will see me. They’ll wonder what’s going on. And I can’t have that. You have to understand. I… I don’t want to creep around the Grand Creux. What I did earlier, leaving like that before the event was properly over – it wasn’t professional. Not that I regret what happened,’ she added quickly, ‘not for one instant, but…’

  ‘But you pride yourself on your professionalism.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘No need to worry,’ he said. ‘I’m in the first floor suite. It has its own private entrance. This way.’ He led her to the secluded private stairway at the side, shaded by an old yew tree.

  So Jack Ward was in the Victor Hugo suite. Why didn’t that surprise her? It was by far the most expensive room in the hotel. And Jack, it was becoming increasingly clear, was obviously a man to whom money was no object.

  She followed him upstairs. Once inside his suite he snapped on one of the sidelights, and she took her fill once again of his strong masculine face, the high cheekbones cutting across his lean face, the black, sardonic brows, and the deep blue eyes – darkening once again with desire. She throbbed with anticipation. Once more he slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders, then roughly pushed down her bra so that her breasts were fully exposed to his hungry gaze. Then he stood and leisurely drank in his fill of her. She felt a jab of shame. She had never stood before a man like this, stripped bare, for his enjoyment. But then he took one of her taut nipples and rolled it slowly between his finger and thumb – and she shuddered with need.

  ‘I hope you don’t have to get up too early tomorrow Amber,’ he smiled. ‘I plan t
o keep you up for quite some time yet…’

  Next morning Jack awoke and automatically looked across to check the time. Six-fifteen. Late. But then, he was meant to be taking it easy. A pair of collared doves in the tree next to the window cooed peaceably. He turned on his side and looked at Amber, still sleeping quietly at his side, her lovely apricot hair spread over the pillow, her eyes closed, lashes resting softly against the peachy skin of her cheeks.

  Suddenly, with an instinctive kick of physical need he saw that the delicious, raspberry-pink nipple of her breast was half exposed. It had been a warm night, and during what little sleep they’d had, she’d obviously tried to kick off the bedclothes. If he pulled down the sheet just a little bit further then… But no. Let her sleep. After last night, she probably needed it.

  He lay a while and watched her, entranced by her simple, unique natural beauty. She really was something special. The sex had been fantastic – among the best he’d ever had. And that fact surprised him: she obviously didn’t have much experience, as she’d so sweetly and artlessly admitted. But that was the thrill. Her response to him had been uninhibited and unscripted. She had a great capacity for physical pleasure, and he’d thoroughly enjoyed giving it to her.

  That soft, curvaceous body was to die for. And he’d had to have it, there on the beach – at once. He hooked up his elbow and cupped his chin in his hand. He was surprised at himself, at the overbearing need he’d felt for her, the uncharacteristic lack of control. That didn’t happen with him. Where sex was concerned, Jack Ward was always completely in command – enjoyed it that way. Sex was, for him, an intricate game of mastery where he always called the shots. Normally he held back, enjoyed the ritual of making a woman wait for him, wait until he could see her practically panting… And he certainly never got involved with one of his employees, no matter how far down the chain of command they were. But for Amber, he’d had to make an exception. And technically she wasn’t his employee – or at least not quite yet.

  Her eyelids flickered and she gave a little sigh, as if she was dreaming. Gently he pushed a hair off her cheek. She really was gorgeous. A man could really fall for a girl like that… Taken aback at the unbidden emotion, he immediately checked it. What the hell was going on? This was about sex. Pure and simple. And he meant to have much more of it before his time in Guernsey was up. Another few days and he’d nip the little dalliance in the bud. He didn’t want her getting attached, causing problems.

  But for now he needed to get to the office he’d set up at Ward Hotels’ other Guernsey property. It was going to be a busy morning. The offer would be ready by nine-thirty and then he’d phone De Garis, who would naturally – after briefly affecting outrage and going through the motions of contacting his lawyers – accept. Then it would be off to the De Garis Hotels offices to see to the formalities and be introduced to the staff.

  Which would leave the rest of the afternoon free – to spend with Amber. And now he was about to be her new boss, he thought wryly, her taking time off work obviously wouldn’t be a problem. Carefully he got out of bed, making sure not to wake her.

  Yes, it promised to be another good day – in more ways than one.

  The dappled sunlight poured in from the open window and Amber drifted slowly awake – to the unmistakable smell of fresh coffee and roses.

  Fresh coffee? Roses? She sat bolt upright and rubbed at her eyes. Where was she? Then with a thud, realisation dropped into place. So it hadn’t been a dream. No. That exquisite ache in her most intimate, sensitive place told her it had been all too real. She was still in Jack Ward’s suite. But there was no sign of him. She jumped out of bed, wrapping the sheet modestly around her and ran into the suite’s lounge, but he wasn’t there either. Nor in the bathroom. He was gone.

  Bitter disappointment ate at her. So it really had been just a one-night stand, just as she’d known all along, however much now, after a night in his arms and in his bed, she wished it had been more. The conference was finished and he was most likely already on the way to his next business engagement. The enchanted night was over, leaving only cold, sober day in its place.

  Angrily, miserably, she chided herself. Stupid girl! You knew what the score was. You wanted casual sex, and now you’ve had it.

  She glanced across to the door and noticed that someone had wheeled in a breakfast trolley – and a huge vase of fragrant pink roses. Propped against it was a small card. She took it back to the bedroom and scrabbled around for the glasses she’d thankfully thought to stuff into her handbag last night.

  How about dinner? Jack.

  Her spirits soared. Oh, could it be true? Sweet, benevolent fate! He was still in Guernsey – and wanted to see her again. She would see that handsome, rather serious face again, feel that amazing mouth on hers again, maybe even get to know him a little, find out who he was…

  But wait! What on earth was she thinking? She couldn’t possibly make lunch. She had to work! Having to step in to cover the conference at the last minute meant she was thoroughly backed up. She had meetings all day, starting off with a meeting with Frank at a quarter past nine. Talking of which… Her head jerked up to the clock by the bed. Nine o’clock! Oh no! She was already late for work! What on earth was she going to tell Frank? He hated people being late.

  She flew into the bathroom, cursing the fact she had nothing to wear but Jessica’s red dress from the night before. She’d have to run down to her car, hoping no one saw her, and drive home to change. And, she realised with a sick, sinking feeling, if she didn’t get out of the hotel suite soon, housekeeping would arrive, and she’d be discovered. What a terrible fix… And Jack hadn’t even left her a number – nor had she given him hers. Would he try to track her down at work then? Oh God, that might be very embarrassing!

  She hunted for her shoes. But still, she thought, smiling a secretive smile to herself, she wouldn’t change a thing. Last night had been amazing. Her body, under Jack’s expert hands, had felt completely different: alive, bewitched, inflamed. She’d never known it was possible to feel so much physical pleasure, to give and receive so much satisfaction and yet still be hungry for more. And now he wanted to see her again – this man who had suddenly turned her predictable, humdrum little life upside down. In all likelihood it would just be tonight, or another two nights at the most – however long he still planned to be in Guernsey on business – and then he would be gone. But she would take it, and gladly. Things really had taken an amazing turn.

  After a quick shower and change of clothes back at the cottage, she headed to De Garis Hotels’ headquarters. She padded up the stairs to Frank’s office, all traces of last night’s scarlet woman wiped away, glasses back on, hair tied up, and clad in her darkest, most sensible suit. Her new, more daring look could wait until tonight, until Jack.

  ‘Karen, so sorry I’m late!’ she told Frank’s secretary. ‘Is Frank annoyed?’

  ‘Frank’s not here,’ the woman answered. ‘Some very important call came and he went off about half an hour ago. Just between you and me it must be bad news because he had a face like thunder; told me to get his lawyers on the phone straight away.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Amber, puzzled. ‘That’s strange.’

  ‘So it looks like you’re off the hook with Frank.’ Karen winked. ‘Forget to set your alarm clock did you? Not like you.’

  Amber grinned. ‘Something like that.’ She went to her office. What a stroke of luck. But what was the call that had rattled Frank so badly? And why were his lawyers involved? Usually he made sure she was kept thoroughly abreast of all hotel developments. She sat down at her desk. Well whatever it was, no doubt he’d fill her in when he got back.

  She started trawling through the work that had piled up during her absence, trying her level best to push all thoughts of Jack Ward and the previous night out of her mind. Trying, but not succeeding very well. The spreadsheet she’d just opened up on her computer had a mistake in it somewhere. It had to be really obvious, but she was damned if she
could see it. She sighed in exasperation. She’d have to snap out of this – and quickly. She couldn’t afford any lapses in concentration. Frank relied on her heavily and she didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt her abilities.

  She loved working for Frank. He’d taken a huge gamble on her: she’d been working for the group for less than a year when he’d spotted her abilities and promoted her to a newly-created role that involved not only all the accounting work the company needed doing, but much more besides. De Garis Hotels was still only a small concern, but it was expanding fast, with key properties in Guernsey, Jersey and Sark. And to be in a position like hers at the age of just twenty-five was a huge achievement.

  Besides which, it was by far the most interesting job she’d ever had. Frank knew everything there was to know about the hotel business and was imparting his precious knowledge to her. Sure he was getting on a bit, but his enthusiasm knew no bounds, and there was plenty ambition in him yet. And just recently he’d hinted that at some point in the not too distant future he might make her group deputy managing director.

  Got it! Amber deleted the mistake she’d finally found. Thank goodness for that. Her brain obviously still functioned after all. She checked the time. Only a couple of hours and she needed to leave for a meeting with the company auditors – and she wasn’t anywhere near prepared. Time to stop obsessing about Jack Ward and get down to business.

  By twelve-thirty Jack Ward still hadn’t rung, and Amber’s stomach was in knots. Just as she was about to leave for her meeting, her phone rang. Karen’s number flashed up.

  ‘Karen. I’m just on my way out. Can it wait?’