The Sweetest Revenge Part 9

And more than anything he wanted to feel comfortable with her-nothing hidden between them. He would push her to the limit, force her to reveal what was in her mind.

Their waiter came to whisk away the plates. 'The menu for sweets, sir?'

'No. We're finished here.' He took out his wallet and handed over a credit card. 'The bill, please.'

'Be right back, sir.'

'Some more wine?' he asked, noticing her gla.s.s was empty.

'No, thank you.' Her eyes were nervous but there was a hardy glint of determination in them, shining through the flickering uncertainties. She didn't want to back off...yet.

The bottle of chardonnay was still half full. Normally he would ask the waiter to cork it for carrying home, but he didn't care about the waste tonight. Antic.i.p.ation was a fire in his veins. He could barely wait to touch her.

She picked up her gla.s.s of iced water and sipped from it. Were her thoughts feverish? Did they need cooling down? Or was the fire of desire in her veins, too?

Well, he'd soon find out.

The waiter returned with the bill. Nick quickly signed it, slid the copy and his credit card into his wallet, then stood up, burning to move this game onto his ground. Before he could reach her chair it was sc.r.a.ping back. She was on her feet, clutching the little gold handbag. For a tense few moments Nick had the impression she was poised for flight-panic in the air-car keys in her bag, people still around them, safety in numbers.

He picked up her creamy wrap which had fallen onto the back of the chair and draped it around her shoulders. There were goose b.u.mps on her arms. 'Cold?' he murmured.

'A bit.'

The admission was slightly choked, breathy.

'You'll be warm in my apartment,' he promised, lifting her hair out of the wrap to let it swing free, taking the opportunity to run it over his hand, revel in its softness.

Her head jerked slightly, skittishly, but she made no protest at the liberty he was taking. Her shoulders squared. She was not going to back off, not at this point. A surge of triumph sizzled through him. He moved, picking up her hand to draw her with him, lacing his fingers through hers to lock her into his game plan.

They fluttered before settling into his grip. He heard her suck in a deep breath as she fell into step at his side. His sense of winning was slightly marred by these poignant little signs of vulnerability. Leon's warning flashed into his mind.

You're too fast on the draw, Nick. Treat her right. Get to know her.

Which was all very fine, Nick thought caustically, if she was treating him right.

She'd made the game, closing doors he'd given her more than one opportunity to open. There could be no real knowing of anyone when deliberate deception was in play. Nick felt he had every right to smash those doors down. He had to know where she was at, where she was coming from, where she wanted to be. There could be no going forward until that was settled and Nick wanted a future with her.

Barbie Lamb...the girl...the woman...lost and found.

Not to be lost again.

Not without a fight.

CHAPTER TEN.

'IT'S not far,' Nick said encouragingly.

Barbie's heart was galloping. Sue would undoubtedly say she was mad, accompanying him to his apartment. Too far, too fast. But he was holding her hand, taking her on his path, and she couldn't let go, couldn't break away, however far he intended to take her. The need to hold on to him was more compelling than any common sense arguments about how best to handle relationships.

Besides this was different.

It would be impossible to keep her real ident.i.ty hidden much longer. Since Nick had said Anne Shepherd shone as a uniquely special woman to him, it seemed paramount to use every possible minute in his company, finding out if he really meant it. Only then would Barbie have the confidence to emerge as one and the same woman.

Seeing the home he'd chosen would also tell her more about him, she reasoned, although reason had little to do with the journey she was now taking. The hand gripping hers was irresistible, its warm, possessive strength belonging to Nick... Nick, wanting her. Never mind for what purpose, or for how long. The wanting felt so good, Barbie would have walked anywhere with him.

'Do you ever cook for yourself?' she asked, trying to sound natural, not so affected by his closeness and the invitation to even more closeness.

'Not much. The occasional breakfast.'

Bed and breakfast...

She clamped down on the spoiling thought, but lost the will to pursue any trivial conversation. The nervous excitement of being with Nick consumed her and his silence seemed to transmit the same inner intensity of feeling...an urgency to be alone with her, only with her.

She had no idea how far they walked along the colonnaded promenade, nor was she aware of anything they pa.s.sed. It was as though she had stepped into a dream world where wishes could come true, and she refused to consider a reality which might be different.

He steered her through a huge marble archway into a rotunda-like foyer that featured a grand staircase winding upwards.

'Do we climb that?' she asked, her voice echoing around the high emptiness, seeming to emphasise the abrupt cut-off from a public place.

'It only leads to floors of offices,' he answered briefly, drawing her towards an elevator set in the side wall.

The doors slid open the moment he hit the Up b.u.t.ton. They stepped inside. Nick produced a security card from his shirt pocket and inserted it into a slot on the control board before pressing the number 8. The action indicated an exclusivity that only the very rich could afford. An eighth-floor apartment, directly overlooking the harbour, would indeed be fairyland for her, Barbie thought.

Would Nick treat her like a princess...or would she be coming down to earth with a thump?

Again she pushed the question aside, determined on following his lead. She recalled him saying he'd felt protective of her, except that had been Barbie, not Anne. All the same, she did instinctively trust him not to do anything she didn't want. If there was any problem it probably lay in her own wanting.

Which hit her forcibly when they emerged from the fast-track elevator and he released her hand to unlock and open the door to his apartment. The loss of that small physical contact with him left her oddly bereft, as though it were vital to her sense of well-being.

For a moment the disconnection aroused a tremulous uncertainty about what she was doing. Then Nick opened the door and his eyes blazed at her, seeming to dare her to step inside.

Her heart turned over. It was like the old days...was she brave enough to keep up with him, do what he did, share the thrills and the spills?

Pride and the long-held desire for his approval compelled her feet forward. Lights were switched on and the vista of his s.p.a.cious living area diminished the sense of entering dangerous ground. The immediate impact was warmly inviting and she walked on without any prompt, eager to see his private world, to match it to the man who now wanted her in his life.

'This is lovely, Nick!' she cried, eyeing the two long sofas which dominated the lounge area, relieved and happy to feel real pleasure in his choices.

There was nothing intimidating here. The sofas were upholstered in a forest-green velvet with a tiny brown sprig pattern which lent more interest. Scatter cushions in gold and brown and green dressed the thickly rolled armrests, and beautiful gold lamps stood on side tables, giving a lovely mellow light.

A large square coffee table with a polished parquet surface provided easy service for anyone seated on either sofa, and floor-to-ceiling curtains beyond it obviously hid a magnificent view. As she tried to imagine it, Nick strode past her and operated the cord that pulled the curtains apart.

Even at night, the sheer scope of it was breathtaking, the lights of the city climbing upwards from the harbour sh.o.r.es, the island of Fort Denison floodlit, the moving lights of boats on the water.

'Oh!' she breathed in awed delight, instantly walking forward to see more. 'It must be marvellous to look out on this every day.'

'Yes. There's always something interesting happening on the harbour, liners coming in, yacht races, navy ships on the move.'

He was on the move, too, coming towards her, and his vibrant masculinity hit her anew, kicking her pulse into a faster beat. Suddenly he looked very aggressively male, the strong planes of his face gleaming more sharply in the lamplight, his eyes hooded, his body emanating deliberate purpose.

'I don't think you'll need this now,' he said, removing her wrap and dropping it on the end of the closest sofa.

His arm replaced it, curving around her shoulders and turning her as he gestured towards the dining area and the kitchen which had a bar separator from the rest of the living area and high stools where people could sit and converse with whomever was working behind it.

'The open plan allows the view to be enjoyed from everywhere,' he pointed out. The fingers stroking her upper arm stilled and tensed as he added, 'You get a similar outlook from the master bedroom. Come and see.'

She glanced up, sensing another underlying dare, a test of courage he would judge her on. His eyes briefly met hers, simmering with a challenge she didn't understand. Before she could sift it through her mind, he was propelling her along with him.

Hugged to his side, acutely conscious of his body heat and the muscular strength she was brushing against with each step they took, Barbie stopped seeing anything. She moved in a blur, the word, bedroom, pounding through her mind.

Wild fears and hopes leapt through her, causing nervous havoc. She didn't need to see the view again, but there was a terribly intimate attraction about being shown his bedroom, and somehow halting what was happening was not an option.

Another door was opened, lights switched on, and having swept her into this most private of all rooms, Nick left her near the bed while he moved to the table on the other side of it and pressed a b.u.t.ton on a console. The wall-length curtains on the far side of the room whooshed apart but Barbie was too distracted by the bed to look past it. She stood transfixed by the richly sensual temptation in front of her.

The top bedcover seemed to be made of softly glowing rows of sable fur, lushly inviting her to stroke it. Underneath was obviously a doona encased in stone-coloured raw silk. Piled against the bedhead were pillows in the same silk as well as of the dark brown fur, and even more stunning cushions in embroidered red velvet bordered by a leopard print.

'Is it real fur?' she asked, unable to stop herself from reaching out and running her hand over the thick, luxurious softness.

'No. Fake.'

'It feels real.'

'Yes, it does. A high-quality fake.' He walked back towards her, an ironic twist to his lips, his eyes glittering with a savage kind of mockery. 'It looks right. It feels right. Good enough to fool anyone that it's real. But it is an artificial simulation. Like you...'

'What?'

'...being a fairy princess. For children, you would seem very real, though in actuality you're a fake fantasy.'

She straightened up, jolted by the comparison, feeling as though her integrity was being attacked.

He rounded the bed, hands out, expressing an appeal. 'So I'm wondering...how real are you, Anne?'

Did he suspect some deception? How could he? Barbie struggled to collect her scattered wits. 'I don't know what you mean.'

He was close now, close enough to lift his hand and stroke her cheek, close enough for his eyes to burn into hers, seeking, demanding. 'You come to me in different guises, playing roles.'

'Just dress-ups,' she defended. 'I'm the same person underneath.'

He slid an arm around her waist and scooped her into full body contact with him. Her hands flew up, pressing against his upper chest, giving her some breathing s.p.a.ce. She didn't understand what was going on here, only that she seemed to be on trial and Nick was fiercely resolved on not being fooled by her. Had his recent experience with Tanya scarred him?

'You feel right,' he said with a low throbbing vehemence that thrummed into her heart. His fingers slid into her hair, his thumb lightly fanning her temple as though wanting to infiltrate her secret thoughts. 'Do I feel right to you?'

Her body was quivering inside, whether from fear or excitement she didn't know. Her mind was a mess. The intensity of feeling pouring from him made any thinking difficult. She remembered how it had felt when he kissed her...no conflict then.

'Kiss me,' she whispered, the need to set everything right between them so urgent, she couldn't think further than that.

For a moment his eyes darkened with turbulent emotion. Panic increased Barbie's turmoil. It wasn't the answer he wanted. What was? What did he need from her?

Then his mouth crashed down on hers, hot and wild, and Barbie's panic surged into an equally heated response. It was not a kiss of sweet exploration, nor one of sensual pleasure. It was a pa.s.sionate plundering, intent on smashing any barrier between them, a tempestuous testing of how far desire went, how real it was.

There was anger in it, frustration, the need to rip into each other, taking instead of giving, as though this was their one chance to get what had been missing from their lives and there was no other source for it. They were greedy for each other, feverish in their need to know, to prove the rightness they craved.

On some sane level Barbie knew she was being insanely reckless but didn't care. There was no turning back. Nick Armstrong was not in the lead now. She was not a little lamb following him. She was holding him to her and revelling in the feel of him, his hard maleness pressed against her, wanting entry to the woman she was, his mouth exploding into hers again and again, needing the essence of her, determined on having it.

His hand burrowed under her hair and scooped it off her back, hooking it over her shoulder, out of the way, as he found the head of her zipper and opened her dress. A leading advantage to him, she thought, and instantly dropped her hands to his shirt, tearing at the b.u.t.tons. I can do whatever you do, was racing through her mind. You won't leave me behind. Not this time.

Clothes. .h.i.t the floor. Shoes were kicked off. Strong hands almost encircled her waist, digging into her naked flesh, lifting her off her feet. She was tossed onto the bed, landing sprawled across the sable fur, sinking into its thick softness, the fibres caressing her bare skin with sinful sensuality.

And Nick stood there like a primitive caveman, his chest heaving, his eyes glittering over the prize he'd brought to his lair. 'You really want to go this far?' he demanded.

Echoes of the past rocketed around Barbie's mind, the doubt that little Baa-Baa Lamb could go the distance.

'I'm already this far,' she fiercely retorted and a woman-devil inside her drove her to stretch out provocatively. 'It's up to you to join me.'

He certainly had the superior strength. His magnificent body rippled with taut male muscles. But she had power, too, the power of being a woman he wanted, and his very evident erection made that undeniable. It was good he had to come to her. It was great to be the one he followed for once, had to follow because he needed to be with her.

She gloried in the sizzling flare in his eyes as he moved, one knee sinking into the fur beside her. He nudged her legs apart with his other knee, taking a subtle mastery over her position. A flood of vulnerability suddenly attacked her sense of power, but Barbie wouldn't let it win. She was not going to show any fear to Nick. Even when he kneeled over her on all fours, threateningly dominant, her eyes held his in fierce challenge-no surrender in this game of games.

Come and get me, she silently dared.

No more hide-and-seek.

They were down to absolute basics, a man and a woman coming together.

He took her mouth, invading it with such erotic pa.s.sion, her body instinctively arched for the more intimate invasion. But he withheld it, resisting the pull of her arms, tantalising her with the simulated promise of what was to come. She clawed his back. He lifted his head. For a moment she saw the gleam of savage satisfaction in his eyes, the triumphant knowledge of her frenzied need.

In the very next instant it meant nothing. He moved, his head dipping down to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, taking their extended peaks in his mouth in turn, and all she knew were the sweet bursts of pleasure he evoked with the wild suction of his mouth, the exquisite lashing of his tongue, pleasure she violently wanted prolonged, wanting more and more of the intense excitement he aroused. Her fingers raked through his hair, grasped his head, intent on seizing control, moving him to match her ravening need.

Again he eluded any submission to her will, tearing himself out of her grasp, trailing his mouth over her stomach, leaving kisses of pulsing heat, moving lower, lower. A hand slid down the soft, moist folds between her legs, fingers stroking, circling, caressing...mesmerising sensations. Her own hands stopped scrabbling to hold him. The distraction was so intense she instinctively closed her eyes, her whole being drawn to concentrate on inner feelings.

Unbelievably, the enthralling touch was suddenly accompanied by a kiss so shockingly intimate she almost jerked away from it. An arm across her hips held her still and the shock melted away under the sweet flood of sensation his mouth wrought, delicious waves of it, peaking and spilling through her, gathering a rhythmic momentum that ultimately begged for a truly mutual mating.

'Stop!' The cry ripped from her throat, driven by a need she couldn't hold back, couldn't control, couldn't help herself. 'Come to me now, Nick! Now!'

She threshed against his hold, wild for him to do what he should. His arm lifted and burrowed under her. She reached for him, feverishly primed to fight for what she wanted. It wasn't right yet. It had to be right. But she didn't have to fight. He surged up and over her, making the entry she craved, the blissful joining, a deep penetration that filled her with rightness, a stunningly ecstatic rightness.

'Yes...' she breathed on a burst of relief, all her inner muscles squeezing him, hugging the wonderful pleasure of him.

'Open your eyes.'

A raw need gravelled through his command and Barbie instantly complied.

His eyes blazed into hers. 'Don't close them. I will not be a fantasy. This is very...' He pulled back, leaving her momentarily devastated by the loss of the deep connection. '...very real,' he harshly a.s.serted, and drove forward, emphatically proving the power of his reality.