It Started With... Collection. Miranda Lee

back, his conscience once again raging a desperate war with his fiercely aroused body. He tried to recapture the gentle and platonic feelings Rachel usually engendered in him; tried to recall how she’d once looked. But it was a losing battle. That sexless creature was gone, and in her place was this incredibly desirable woman. All he could think about was how she’d felt in his arms upstairs and how she’d feel in his bed down here.

      ‘This is an even worse idea than dancing with you,’ he muttered as he stepped forward and cupped her startled face with his hands. ‘But I haven’t the will-power to resist. Don’t say no to me, Rachel. Not tonight.’

      He was going to kiss her, Rachel realised with a small gasp of shock. No, not just kiss her. He was going to make love to her.

      She almost blurted out ‘no’, his carnal intentions fuelling instant panic. But before her mouth could form any protest his lips had covered hers in a kiss of such hunger and intensity that she was totally blown away. His tongue stabbed deep, his fingers sliding up into her hair, his fingertips digging into her scalp as he held her mouth solidly captive under his. It was a brutally ravaging, wildly primitive, hotly demanding kiss.

      And she loved it, her moans echoing a dazed, dizzying pleasure.

      ‘No, don’t,’ she choked out ambiguously when his head lifted at long last, leaving her mouth feeling bruised and bereft. She actually meant, No, don’t stop. But he naturally took it another way.

      ‘I told you not to say that,’ he growled, and swept her up into his arms. ‘There will be no “no”s tonight.’

      He kissed her again as he carried her down to his room, then kissed her some more whilst he took off all her clothes. Once she was totally, shockingly naked, he spread her out on the bed and kissed every intimate erogenous part of her body.

      And she never once said no. Because she never said a word. She was beyond words. Beyond anything but moaning with pleasure.

      Yet she didn’t come. He seemed to know just how much she could endure without tipping over the edge. Time and time again she would come incredibly close, and tense up in expectation of imminent release. But each time he would stop doing what he was doing, and she’d groan and writhe with frustration. As often as not he’d just smile down at her, as though he was enjoying her torment.

      By the time he deserted her to strip off all his own clothes she would have done anything he asked. But he didn’t ask. Instead, he drew on one of the two condoms he pulled from his trouser pocket, and just took. Swiftly and savagely.

      ‘Oh,’ Rachel gasped, coming within seconds of his entering her. She’d never climaxed as quickly as that before, her flesh gripping his as he continued to thrust wildly into hers. He didn’t last long, either, his back arching as his mouth gaped wide in a naked cry of primal release. Afterwards, he collapsed across her, his chest heaving, his breathing raw.

      Rachel just lay there under him, stunned and confused. For a woman whose body had just been racked by a fierce and fantastic orgasm, she didn’t feel at all satisfied, just primed for more.

      ‘Don’t talk,’ he commanded when he finally withdrew and scooped her still turned-on body up in his arms. ‘Talking will only spoil everything.’

      His en suite bathroom was as white and spacious as hers, with a shower cubicle built for two. Holding her with one strong arm, he adjusted the water on both shower heads then deposited her in there before leaving to attend to the condom.

      Rachel stood under the warm water and watched him through the clear glass of the shower cubicle, thinking that he really had a fabulous body. When he’d undressed earlier she’d been too caught up with her own excitement and apprehension to notice him in detail. Now her eyes avidly drank in his perfect male shape; the broad shoulders, slender hips, tight buttocks. Muscles abounded in his back, arms and legs. He also sported an all-over tan, except for the area that had been covered by a very brief swimming costume. Justin was built very well indeed. His wife certainly hadn’t left him because he was inadequate in that department. Or in the lovemaking department either. He knew what to do with a woman’s body all right. He made Eric’s idea of foreplay look pathetically inadequate.

      Thinking of Justin’s wife and Eric reminded Rachel that what she was doing here—and what Justin was doing here—had nothing to do with love and relationships, and everything to do with need. Need for sex, and the need to be needed, even if only sexually.

      At least, that was the way it was for her. Justin’s wanting her, even for this one night, had done more for her feminine self-esteem than all the physical make-overs in the world. He’d brought out the woman in her again. If nothing else, after tonight she could not go back to being that pretend plain Jane who’d been playing the role of his prim PA in such a piteous fashion.

      Even if it meant having to resign, she would truly move on from this point, and live her life as she once had. There would be no more wimpishly making the least of herself. No more hiding behind dreary black suits and spinsterish hairdos. Definitely no more being afraid of other people, and men in particular. That sad, lonely chapter in her life was over.

      ‘You’re thinking,’ Justin grumbled as he joined her under the water and turned up the hot tap.

      ‘And you’re talking,’ she reminded him as she lifted her hands to slick her dripping hair back from her face.

      ‘That’s my prerogative. I’m the boss. Keep your arms up and your hands behind your head like that,’ he ordered thickly. ‘Lock your fingers together. Keep your elbows back.’

      Rachel was staggered by his request. But she obeyed, and found the experience an incredible turn-on. By the look in his eyes, Justin did too. His gaze roved hotly over her body, which felt extra-naked and extra-exposed as she stood there like that. The now steaming water kept splashing over her head and running down her face, into the corners of her by now panting mouth. Down her neck it streamed, forming a rivulet between her breasts, pooling in her navel before spilling down to the juncture between her thighs, soaking the curl-covered mound and finally finding its way into the already hot, wet valleys of her female flesh.

      ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, his voice low and taut. ‘Now close your eyes and don’t talk. Or move.’

      Her eyes widened but then fluttered closed, as ordered. Rachel was far too excited to even consider not obeying him. She’d never played erotic games before, and the experience was blowing her mind.

      Now, within her self-imposed prison of darkness, she could only imagine how she looked, standing there so submissively, with her elbows back and her breasts thrust forward, their nipples achingly erect. Was he looking at her and despising her for her unexpected wantonness, or delighting in her willingness to play slave to his master?

      The shocking part was she didn’t seem to care, as long as he looked, and touched, and satisfied her once more. By the time his hands started skimming lightly over her body, she was already craving another climax, her mind propelling her forward to that moment when he’d surge up into her, filling her, fulfilling her.

      She moaned softly when something—not his hand—rubbed over her nipples. Soap, she soon realised. A cake of soap. He wasn’t washing her as such, just using the soap, caressing her with its slippery surface, making her nipples tighten even further. Every internal muscle she owned tightened along with them. When the soap started travelling southwards Rachel sucked in sharply.

      No, not there, she wanted to warn him. But before her tongue could formulate her brain’s protest the soap was between her legs, sliding back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She tried to stop the inevitable from happening, but it was like trying to stop a ski-jumper in mid-jump. When her belly grew taut and her thighs began to tremble she knew the struggle for control had been futile.

      She came with a violent rush, her knees going to jelly and her arms falling back down to her sides. She might have sunk into a wet heap on the floor had he not snapped off the water and swept her back up into his arms. Her eyes must have conveyed her shocked state as he carried her back to his bedroom, but he just ignored them and spread her