Savage Interlude. Carole Mortimer

was that?’ She licked her lips again, fascinated by the deep cleft in his chin.

      ‘I offered him the other leading role,’ he gave an amused smile.

      That pierced her fogged-up brain. ‘The—the other leading role?’

      ‘Mm.’ He bent his head to caress her throat slowly with firm passionate lips. ‘There are two male leads.’

      Those lips were causing strange fluttering sensations in her body, but it was a pleasant feeling, one she didn’t want to stop. This was Damien Savage, the man she had fantasised about at the great age of thirteen, before her devotion had passed on to someone she had believed to be more attractive. She had been wrong; no one could be more attractive than Damien, or more sexually exciting.

      But at thirteen she hadn’t known of such things, and as she grew older she had felt her devotion turn to embarrassed dislike, her mind accepting that it was ridiculous to fantasise about men she was never likely to meet, and With the arrogance of youth she had dismissed him from her mind. But now she had met him, only to find her fantasies more than coming true.

      He was kissing her as she had once imagined he would, but it wasn’t at all like she thought it would be. It was more, so very, very much more. It was exciting and frightening at the same time, his lips a very pleasurable sensation on her bare shoulders.

      ‘Damien, I—–’ She fought for control of her senses; she mustn’t let who he was colour her judgment. But it wasn’t who he was that was affecting her, but what he was doing to her. ‘Damien, please!’

      He raised his head slightly. ‘Yes?’ His eyes were half-closed with emotion. He ran a hand through the hair at the side of her face, and gentle caressing fingers down her flushed cheeks. ‘Such wide innocent brown eyes. They promise so much and yet withhold much more.’

      ‘A-about the film,’ she forced herself to sanity. ‘James won’t be very happy about working with Matt Strange.’ She pushed back her tousled hair and sat up straight on the sofa, making an effort to move hint further away from her.

      Damien scowled, not relinquishing his hold on her. ‘I couldn’t give a damn about James’ happiness. He either works with Matt or he doesn’t do the movie at all, the choice is his. But I should think the fact that I intend taking you away from him would bother him more than working with Matt Strange.’

      ‘But you can’t—I mean, why should you—–’

      His lips returned to the softness of her perfumed throat. ‘Because I’m going to take you away from him any way I can. You’re going to come and live with me, Kate.’

      She moved against those probing lips, his tongue licking flames along the sensitive cord in her neck. ‘I’m not, you know,’ her words were fevered, her mind fogging once again. ‘My home is with James. He takes care of me.’

      ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he promised huskily, his mouth travelling slowly towards her waiting lips. ‘Much better care of you than James ever could.’

      ‘No, no …’ Her protests didn’t sound very firm and she knew Damien was aware of it, felt rather than saw his smile of triumph. That should have been her moment to stop him, the moment she should have stopped that mocking, arrogant mouth taking possession of hers.

      But she didn’t, she allowed his firm mouth to part and claim her own, gave herself up to the pleasure he evoked. She had been kissed before, she wasn’t completely innocent, but she had never been kissed in quite this way before. His lips teased and deepened the kiss, teased and deepened it until she moaned against him, her body moving to meet his, begging for more than he was giving.

      When the onslaught finally came she wasn’t prepared for it, her body relaxed from his hands upon her fevered skin. Suddenly she wasn’t sitting any more but stretched out lengthwise on the sofa, Damien’s long lean length close against her. Her hands were up around his shoulders, touching his warm skin inside his now fully unbuttoned shirt. Her eyes were closed, her throat bared to the warmth of his lips.

      ‘Oh, Damien,’ she breathed, knowing she would regret this later but for the moment not giving a damn. ‘You go to my head,’ she admitted softly.

      His green eyes smouldered down at her. ‘I don’t think I’m solely to blame for that. How much have you had to drink?’

      She touched that fascinating dimple in his chin, something she had felt tempted to do ever since she had seen him for the first time yesterday. ‘I only had two,’ she answered vaguely.

      ‘At Matt’s?’ he asked sharply.

      Kate pouted up at him, admiring his lean tough body in the close-fitting shirt and trousers. ‘Mm,’ her tongue slowly moistened her lips. ‘Is it important?’

      He groaned in his throat, burying his face in her hair. ‘Not right at this moment. God, you’re lovely!’ He looked down at her. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’ His eyes were tortured.

      She looked up at him innocently. ‘Do what, Damien?’

      ‘Lick your lips like that.’ His mouth briefly covered hers. ‘It’s very provocative.’

      ‘She smiled happily. ‘Is it?’

      He smiled too. ‘You’ve definitely had too much to drink. And I’m not sure I’m up to this sudden change. A little while ago you would have fought like a she-cat not to be in my arms.’

      Her look was one of pure challenge. ‘What’s the matter, aren’t you interested now that I’m no longer fighting you? Are you one of these men who enjoy the chase but not the capture?’

      ‘You silly child, I want you, whether you fight me or not. I must say I prefer you soft and pliant in my arms, but if it has to be a fight then a fight it will be. Victory can be very sweet.’

      ‘You’re sure you’ll win then?’

      ‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ he confirmed softly.

      Kate laughed slightly. ‘You’re very arrogant, Damien. A veritable devil, in fact.’

      ‘Mm, are you complaining?’

      ‘I—–’ her voice faltered, her head began to swim. ‘I feel strange, Damien.’ Her voice sounded faint to her ears. What on earth was wrong with her?

      He raised his head to look down at her suddenly pale face. ‘Oh no,’ he swore angrily, shaking her roughly. ‘Those drinks, what were they?’ He sat up, looking down at her anxiously.

      Her mind didn’t seem to be functioning. She ran a hand over her aching temple. ‘I—er—I can’t remember.’ Her eyes were wide with distress.

      His grip tightened on her forearms. ‘Come on, Kate, think. Answer me!’

      ‘I—It—Martini and lemonade—I think,’ she added lamely, starting to feel sick now.

      ‘Oh, hell!’ His mouth tightened. ‘And was Jerry Saunders in charge of the bar? A stocky man with long dark hair and wearing glasses,’ he explained at her puzzled look.

      ‘I—I think so.’ Her eyes just wouldn’t focus, Damien’s features were taking on a hazy shape that didn’t seem to make sense.

      ‘God, I could kill him! The stupid—–! Just wait until I see him again, I’m likely to do him some physical damage.’

      ‘I don’t understand, Damien. I—I want to go home. I feel ill.’

      ‘But you aren’t going home, especially not in this state.’ His hand smoothed back her hair. ‘You’re staying here tonight, with me.’