To Love Again. Кэрол Мортимер

demurely lowered lashes.

      Lucas sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a frown between his eyes. ‘The man has got to the age of—thirty-one, thirty-two——’

      ‘Thirty-one,’ she confirmed.

      ‘To the age of thirty-one, and is still a lousy kisser?’ he said incredulously.

      ‘On the contrary,’ she drawled, ‘he was a very experienced and accomplished kisser.’

      ‘But——’

      ‘There are kisses. And then there are kisses, Lucas,’ she explained meaningfully, knowing they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all if Lucas hadn’t drunk the unaccustomed whisky. In the past, he had always shown a cursory interest in her dates, but they had certainly never discussed these sort of intimacies!

      ‘There are?’ he mocked.

      ‘Platonic kisses, polite kisses, meaningless kisses——’

      ‘I thought there was only one way for a man to kiss a woman he found attractive,’ Lucas drawled. ‘So that he leaves her in no doubt that he wants her.’

      Christi felt her heart leap in her chest, knowing she could lose what she already had with Lucas, but also knowing she would perhaps never have another opportunity like this one. ‘Then maybe Dick did do something wrong,’ she accepted thoughtfully. ‘Maybe you could show me how it should be done? Oh, I realise you would have to pretend to find me attractive, but at least this way I know what to look for in a man,’ she concluded innocently, her hands clasped tightly together so that Lucas shouldn’t see their trembling, her heart beating so loudly, she felt sure he must be able to hear it. She could lose everything with him, but oh, how she longed to know the touch of his lips on hers just once!

      His expression darkened. ‘I don’t think——’

      She quickly got up from her chair and joined him on the sofa, her legs folded beneath her as she faced him. ‘How else am I to know what to want from a man if someone doesn’t show me?’ She looked at him imploringly.

      He swallowed hard, a nerve pulsing at his jaw. ‘The men you dated last year——’

      ‘Did nothing for me, either,’ she dismissed, telling him clearly that she had never found any man attractive enough to let him do more than kiss her.

      How could she let any other man but Lucas touch her? She had loved him long before she had taken any other man seriously, and loving Lucas as she did meant she couldn’t bear the thought of any other man making love to her.

      Her heart pounded more loudly than ever as she waited for his answer, knowing she was perhaps taking advantage of the fogging the whisky had caused to his brain, but wanting—so much—to be taken in his arms. Regrets could come later. And she didn’t doubt that there would be many.

      Lucas sighed, shaking his head, obviously not as affected by the whisky as she had thought—hoped!—he was. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

      She sat back with a shaky sigh, his rejection a bitter blow. ‘Maybe Barry will be more cooperative,’ she challenged angrily, blinking back her tears of disappointment. ‘After mixing with all those Hollywood starlets, he’s sure to be very experienced!’

      Lucas clasped her arms, turning her to face him, his expression fierce. ‘Don’t go playing games with a man like Barry Robbins,’ he warned grimly.

      ‘Why not?’ she said defiantly, so hurt she just had to hit out at him. She had taken the chance, and lost, but in a way that humiliated as much as it hurt. ‘He’s attracted to me, I can tell, and—oomph!’ She was abruptly silenced as Lucas’s mouth descended on hers, stealing her breath away.

      He was kissing her out of anger, not passion, but to Christi it didn’t matter; she melted into his arms as he bent her back against the sofa, her arms moving up about his neck as she clung to him, gladly returning his kiss.

      And then his mouth gentled on hers, controlling the fiery passion that had instantly blazed between them, nibbling on her lips with slow enjoyment, tracing the outline of lips with the tip of his tongue, moving it temptingly against them, but making no attempt to probe within, promising but not giving.

      Christi’s body ached, her nipples hard pebbles against his chest as the kiss once again became fierce, no longer promising but giving fully, plunging again and again until her whole body shook and quivered with need, a need which was slightly assuaged when his hands began to move restlessly over her aching flesh.

      She was floating, she was soaring, she was held totally captive, she was aching, she was hurting, she was more complete than she had ever felt before. She was Lucas’s …

      Suddenly he thrust her away from him, staring down at her as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, moving forcefully up off the sofa to move as far away from her as possible, his back rigidly unyielding as he kept himself firmly turned away from her.

      Christi knew how she must look to him, her eyes drugged with wantonness, her mouth a swollen pout, her hair wild about her shoulders, her breasts still thrusting against the soft material of her dress, that same dress having ridden up to show off the long expanse of her thighs.

      And the wanton Lucas had produced obviously disgusted him.

      She got up from the sofa with a choked sob, running from the room, from the apartment. She didn’t stop running until she was safely hidden away in her bedroom.