Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,55
and violated. Salt tears formed in Sloan’s eyes, and even as she felt a nipple harden beneath his mouth and inwardly admitted that a rousing fire was slowly coursing through her treacherous body, she protested, if somewhat breathlessly.
“Wesley—no!”
“No?” A single brow raised high as he lifted himself to challenge her scornfully. “And why not? You’ve got your ring and your money. I’m assuming this was my return offering. And, my darling,” he hissed bitterly, “I haven’t seen you suffering, yet.”
Sloan blinked her eyes and winced, unable to move within the concrete prison of his arms. Bracing herself she began to speak. “Wesley, I will not let you make love to me like this—”
“Make love?” he interjected. “Sweet wife, it all has to be prettily wrapped and worded on the outside, huh? But you’re not going to play the hypocrite anymore. You enjoy my bed, darling; to deny that would be ludicrous. And more important, dear wife, you made the bed, and now you will lie in it!”
Dismissing anything else she might have to say as inconsequential, Wesley returned casually to his sure arousal of her body. His lips were searing her flesh like hot irons, and she knew she would eventually succumb. But she had to make him listen!
“Wesley...wait...you don’t understand.”
“So talk to me,” he murmured, his words muffled by her flesh.
“You’re angry,” Sloan choked, forgetting the sense she was trying to make. “You’re angry,” she raspily repeated herself.
His lovemaking took an abrupt halt, and he raised his head. His eyes bored into hers like hot coals, and his lips twisted savagely. “Angry!” he roared. “That has to be the understatement of the year!”
His head lowered again, and Sloan could say no more. She was swept into the storm of his savage passion, capitulated to a high of blazing ecstasy by the undeniable fervency and ardor of the chemistry that linked them. Yet as he brought her to a shuddering crescendo, tears again filled her eyes. He did not hold her to him in their mutual satisfaction. He rolled away from her, and his weight lifted from the bed. Sloan pulled the covers over her still-burning body and buried her face in the pillow.
He must have stood staring at her for several minutes because she heard his voice, soft and very close, and sensed his presence.
“Play with fire, my love, and you do get burned.”
Sloan didn’t turn. There had been no mockery or cruelty to his words, but the pain in her was too fresh and intense to chance another wound. He moved away, and she heard the click of the bathroom door. With him safely out of earshot, she allowed her tears of shame to run freely into her pillow. He might not know it, but she was completely his creature. Even as her mind had rebelled against his forceful demands, her betraying body had succumbed with humiliating eagerness. If only he hadn’t walked in without her knowing, allowing her words to damn her. And why didn’t Wesley give her a chance to explain it?
Because, she knew, it had all rung too close to the truth because it had been the truth at one time! And she had been too sure of herself, too sure that she knew all the sides there were to Wesley. But, she thought with belated remorse, she should have never made the deadly mistake of underestimating him. She had blissfully forgotten that danger could lurk in deep, quiet places.
Another click of the bathroom door informed her that Wesley was back in the room, and she dragged her head from the pillow. He was dressed, superbly handsome and cool in a baize linen jacket which emphasized the sleekness of his dark hair, the vivid green of his eyes, the bronze hue of his strongly chiseled features. He didn’t bother to glance at her as he calmly hefted his suitcase to a chair and rifled his pockets for his wallet.
Sloan ran her tongue along her parched lips. “What are you doing?” she asked tonelessly.
His eyes darted to her with a flick of amusement. “That’s rather obvious, isn’t it? I’m leaving you to your independent bliss.”
She had to moisten her lips again. “Where are you going?”
“Paris, probably,” he replied with a negligent shrug. “I need a place to cool down for a while, and I do like the city.”
Why wouldn’t he say something substantial? she raged silently. He had taken his revenge, why didn’t he help a little now? Why was he leaving this wreck of a