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raking the hot colour in her cheeks, flickering over quivering lips and
slender throat to linger on the revealing firmness of her breasts. Harriet
could feel the nipples hardening, betraying her perturbation to his ruthless
appraisal. When his eyes dropped lower, she turned abruptly away from
him, unable to withstand the studied sensuality of his gaze, and said in a low
voice: 'I think you'd better go.'
'Why?' he demanded, and when he spoke she I realised he had covered the
space between them and I was standing right behind her. 'If my son is
welcome I here, why should I not be?'
'No--'
Her instinctive protest spoken over her shoulder died in a gasp as he reached
for her. The wall was behind her, and as she tried to back away from him,
she came up against the newly-painted plaster. It was cool cool against her
legs, against the backs of her arms, against the creamy skin of her midriff
that stretched between the blouse tied under her breasts and the denim
shorts] that circled her hips. And her skin was hot hot and yet clammy as
panic brought a film of perspiration out all over her. She could feel its
dampness in her palms, along her spine, between her legs.
Then his mouth was on hers, forcing her head back against the wall. She felt
weak, unable to fight him as she knew she should, conscious only of his
chest crushing her breasts, making them ache with a longing to be free of the
confining influence of the blouse, of the swelling muscles of his thighs
straining against hers. His whole weight was against her, his body fitting to
hers as if it had been made for that purpose, as it had always been made ...
'Harriet,' he groaned, loosening the ties of her blouse, his mouth hungrily
seeking the throbbing curve of her breast.
Harriet's legs trembled. The scent of his body, the heat and the strength and
the hardness of him was rapidly overwhelming her. He had always had this
effect on her, and the passage of years had only served to make her woman's
body more responsive to the demands of his. No other man had ever held her
like this, touched her like this, and the blood in her veins ran molten, like
liquid fire. She wanted him, she realised despairingly, just as she had always
done ...
The floor above creaked as Susan moved restlessly around, and the sound
brought Harriet to her senses. In God's name, she thought, horror-stricken,
hadn't she suffered enough pain at this man's hands? What was she thinking
of, letting him near her like this? Was she completely out of her mind? And
apart from anything else, Susan could come down here at any moment.
'No,' she said, in an undertone. Then more clearly: 'No!'
Her hands, which moments before had been spread across the moist flesh of
his back, balled into fists and dug into him. She struggled free of him,
trembling fingers fastening the blouse in place, agonised eyes avoiding his.
Obviously Andre wasn't used to having his women pull out on him. He let
her go without too much effort, lying back against the wall where she had
lain moments before. He stared at her through eyes that were still glazed by
the force of his emotions, but there was no mistaking the contempt that
pulled down the corners of his mouth.
'Please,' she said, disguising the tremor in her voice, all too potently aware of
the power he had exercised over her, 'I want you to go. Now!'His eyebrows
lifted mockingly. 'Why? It is a little I late to pretend you did not want that
just as much as I did, is it not?'
'Get out!'
He made no move to go, merely straightened away from the wall and ran a
hand over the curls of dark hair on his chest that arrowed their way down to
his navel. 'A very interesting, if rather unsatisfying interlude,' he said, but
the mockery was cold. 'What did you expect of me, Harriet, I wonder? You
should know by now I am no gentleman, no?'
'Yes, I should,' she cried bitterly. 'Oh, will you just " go!'
'So you can console yourself with the thought that you did not succumb this
time?' he demanded harshly, stepping towards her so that she backed away
again in alarm. 'Oh, relax, Harriet! I have had my lesson for today. Never let
it be said that a Laroche does not know when to give in! But do not imagine
you can play those sort of games with me. You have got away with it this
time, but only because I chose to let you!'
Harriet swallowed convulsively. 'I I don't know how you dare say such a
thing!' she declared. 'I--'
she licked her dry lips, 'I never want to see you again, do you understand?
Never!'
His eyes darkened angrily. 'You are a fool, Harriet,' he stated savagely, and
without another word, he turned and strode out of the house.
After he had gone, Harriet moved around on legs that seemed too weak to
support her. She had never experienced such a scene, and the memory of it
refused to be dislodged. Had she invited it? Had she by her behaviour
sparked off the latent desire between them?
More importantly, had she revealed the emotion he could still arouse in her,
the pulsing urgent emotion that once before had traitorously betrayed her?
Her body still throbbed from the demanding pressure of his, and she
wrapped her arms closely about herself, willing the treacherous memories
away.
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