He didn’t stop, he nibbled at her lips and they parted in a silent gasp as his thumb caught at the top edge of her bra, pulling the cup down roughly and it carried on with its earlier work, this time with no barrier, skin against skin.
Oh my, but that feels nice, Julia thought but out loud she whimpered as the pleasure intensified.
“Kiss me.” It was a demand this time, rumbling out from deep in his chest.
“No,” she denied him, how she did it, she didn’t know as she was nearly at her end.
At her denial, Douglas parted her legs with his knee, pulling her towards him, the heat of his thigh like fire on the insides of hers even through her jeans. His thumb ceased rubbing only to be immediately replaced by both thumb and forefinger providing more excruciatingly lush pleasure. Her head fell back and, against her volition, her back arched pressing her breast more deeply into his hand.
She raised her head and stared at him with angry, passion-filled eyes. “You bastard,” she breathed and he chuckled low in his throat.
“Kiss me,” he commanded again.
And she did. She couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck, slid herself up his thigh and opened her mouth under his.
She touched her tongue to his, her stomach somersaulted and then plummeted. His fingers righted her bra, his hand moved away from her breast and his arms slid around her, holding her so tightly it took her breath away. His mouth was demanding and insistent and she gave him everything he asked for and then more.
And she gloried in doing it.
Then, finally, in one move of pure strength and willpower, she tore away. Sliding to the side she quickly put five feet between them.
“I think…” she said, her voice husky, her eyes flashing, her breath coming in halting gasps, “I hate you.”
“Not words on which to start a lasting engagement, so I’ll focus on your actions instead.” His voice was also lusciously husky and his breath heavy but his face was set and determined.
He walked forward, she stood her ground and she would have scratched his eyes out if he reached for her (or, at least, she told herself she would).
He didn’t, instead he lifted his hand and just ran his thumb across her swollen bottom lip while she held herself frozen.
To her surprise, he murmured simply, “I’ll make you happy.”
“From current behaviour,” she snapped in return, “I find that impossible to believe.”
He smiled at her, that devastating smile then he leaned forward, brushed her lips with his, pulled away and walked out the door.
She stared at it in disgust, grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at the door. Then another one and then another, until they all sat on the floor behind the door and she sat on the bed with her head in her hands and her mind blank to everything but the memory of his beautiful, mind-shattering touch.
Chapter Eleven
The Mistress
Julia stood surveying herself in the three-way mirror. She wore a pair of wide-legged black trousers that hugged her low on her h*ps and a skin-tight camisole, the hem of which only just reached the waistband of her trousers. Over that she wore a see-through black blouse with satin edging at the buttons, collar and cuffs. She’d put in her diamond studs and tied a black velvet ribbon tight around her throat. She kept her hair long but used a blow dryer to straighten its waves. The finishing touch was a pair of silver, strappy sandals, the straps across her coral varnished toes were braided and the heel was stacked in a high, thin, black wedge.
An hour ago Charlotte and Oliver arrived for the Thanksgiving celebrations which were to take place tomorrow. Sam followed twenty minutes later. Tonight they were going to have a light repast in preparation for the gorge-fest that was going to take place the next day.
Even Monique had condescended to join them, more than likely because Charlie and Oliver were coming.
Monique had been on her best behaviour the last two weeks since Douglas’s return. Although she hadn’t been around much to behave any way at all with her whirlwind of brunches, lunches, dinner parties and manicure appointments. When she was around, she kept to herself, not even bothering Douglas and completely ignoring Julia and the children.
Douglas, as well, had been on his best behaviour.
After his bizarre and maybe even unhinged proposal of marriage, Julia had steeled herself for the sexual onslaught that she thought would begin after she pulled herself together enough to leave her rooms to help finish the cookies. Instead, he had been the perfect gentleman, cordial, thoughtful and even, if it could be believed, friendly.
She didn’t trust him one bit, mostly because she suspected he was unhinged due to his out-of-the-blue marriage proposal which proved, to Julia, that Douglas Ashton was completely and utterly mad.
He, on the other hand, was around far more often then he used to be, which she felt under the circumstances, was most perverse.
He was at the breakfast table every morning and was home every night. She knew he went into the office and even took quick day trips to meetings elsewhere in the UK and on the Continent. He might not make tea or supper or Ruby’s bedtime but he was at least home to say goodnight to Willie and Lizzie.