Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender Read online

  ‘Matt…’

  ‘Mmm?’

  But Matt wasn’t really listening to her. Using his free hand, he tugged the bathrobe lower. And as he did so one hard rosy peak emerged proudly from the cloth. Rachel gasped, and would have quickly covered herself again, but Matt wouldn’t let her. Instincts as old as time had him firmly in their grip.

  When he released her hair, it tumbled unheeded about her shoulders, and Matt allowed his hands to slide smoothly down her neck. His thumbs brushed her ears, felt the pulse beating rapidly in its hollow, and gave in to the urge to follow a path that led unerringly to her breasts.

  Common sense and decency seemed to have deserted him. He hadn’t intended to touch her, he told himself, but he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not while her nipples swelled against his palms and he could hear the uneven tenor of her breathing. And she didn’t try to stop him except to say in a shaken voice, ‘We shouldn’t.’

  And, God, Matt knew that. Knew he was probably damning his soul for all eternity by taking advantage of her susceptibility. She was fragile at present, weak and breakable. And this was definitely not a great idea.

  But it was useless telling himself this when she was so desirable. He already knew how good she tasted, and he badly wanted to taste her again. But not just her soft skin, all of her. Her palms, the backs of her knees, and most particularly that sensitive place between her legs.

  Feeling his own body trembling, he half turned her to face him, only to find her eyes were closed. But she didn’t resist when his thumb tugged her lips apart and invaded her sweetness. Or when he bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.

  He pushed his hands into her hair, angling her face so he could deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to push into her mouth. Her eyes opened then, but they were soft and languorous. His tongue sank deeper and her breasts were crushed sweetly against his chest.

  Her hand rose to clutch the neck of his tee shirt. Soft fingers invaded his collar, curled with unexpected eagerness into his hair.

  ‘You want this?’ he breathed against her neck, his own breathing harsh and staccato.

  ‘I want you,’ she admitted huskily, her tongue a sexual invitation, and Matt felt any lingering doubts spinning away.

  It was easy enough to propel her back on the bed, to loosen her robe and tug the sides apart. There was a moment when he thought she might stop him. Her back arched upward off the quilt, but then subsided again.

  Matt eased himself beside her, bending to flick one of those delicious nipples with his tongue. She sucked in a breath and he was struck by how sensitive she was. She was so responsive. He’d never met a woman like her before.

  He couldn’t help himself. His eyes drifted down over her body. She lay there, legs pressed tightly together, gazing up at him with wide trusting eyes. She was definitely a blonde, he noticed, and then put such thoughts aside. His interest went far beyond the colour of her hair.

  She was amazing, he thought. Full breasts, slim and yet rounded hips, long shapely legs. Legs he could already imagine wound around him. And a waist he could span with his two hands.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said a little thickly, trailing wet kisses across the slight mound of her stomach. He felt her flinch again when he explored her navel with his tongue, and was briefly diverted. She was either very tense or very nervous. He knew she’d had a tough day, but he wanted her to relax.

  Then she said, ‘Oh, please…’ and Matt gave a soft laugh as he looked down at her.

  ‘I intend to,’ he assured her huskily. ‘Do you mean you or me?’

  Rachel shook her head and he returned his attention to her breasts, lifting them into his hands with an unexpected sense of possession. Then he bent to curl his tongue about their swollen peaks.

  When he pulled one into his mouth and sucked strongly, he heard her give a soft whimper. But it wasn’t a whimper of pain, it was one of pleasure.

  ‘You like that?’ he asked, lifting his head and looking at her through his lashes.

  ‘I—like,’ she got out unsteadily, her hands reaching for his shoulders, her nails digging almost painfully into his flesh.

  Matt expelled a hoarse breath. God, he wondered incredulously, was this woman for real or what? He couldn’t ever remember wanting a woman so badly. His erection was almost painful, and he was so glad he’d changed into the loose-fitting sweats.

  His hands left her breasts to curve possessively over her hips. He raised one of her legs to bestow a lingering kiss behind her knee and the unmistakable scent of her arousal rose hotly to his nostrils. His hand slid along her thigh, cupped the provocative curve of her bottom, found her damp cleft and allowed his fingers to probe the honeyed curls of her mound…

  And then someone knocked at the door.

  ‘Dammit!’

  Matt swore more forcefully under his breath, but there was no way he could ignore the summons. The door was closed, but it wasn’t locked. And besides, all the housekeeping staff had keys.

  His dark eyes met Rachel’s startled ones, but she was already wrapping her robe about her, drawing up her legs and huddling back against the headboard behind her. It was obvious what she was thinking; she was probably grateful for the interruption. But Matt had to stifle his frustration as he pushed himself abruptly to his feet.

  Crossing to the door, he swung it open with scarcely concealed impatience. It was one of the maids, as he’d suspected, but her eyes widened anxiously when she saw her employer.

  ‘I—er—I’ve come to turn down the bed,’ she said, and Matt was glad his bulk blocked her curious view.

  ‘Thank you, but Ms Claiborne doesn’t require your services this evening,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps some towels?’ the girl suggested, and Matt wondered if she knew how dangerously she was pushing her luck.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said shortly, his eyes brooking no argument, and with another futile attempt to see beyond him the maid turned regretfully away.

  Matt closed the door, but for a moment he didn’t turn to look at Rachel. Bracing his hands against the panels, he knew without asking that the maid’s intrusion had destroyed any intimacy between them. They were back to square one, and perhaps it was just as well, he thought broodingly. This could have been a mistake. And one he might not be able to dismiss.

  Steeling his features, he turned, and found she had left the bed to stand beside the windows. The bathrobe was now securely in place again, her hair twisted into a single coil at her nape.

  ‘You heard that?’ he said, and she gave him a brittle little nod over her shoulder.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ she said tightly. ‘Are you leaving now?’

  Matt’s smile was bitter. ‘Is there any point in my staying?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ Matt picked up the jar of cream from the bed and dropped it onto her night table. ‘Don’t forget to put some of this on your arms and legs. However they feel now, they will feel worse in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ Matt’s lips twisted and he turned towards the door. ‘And it has been,’ he added, disregarding the ache of thwarted arousal. ‘Get a good night’s rest. It’s been a long day.’

  Rachel did not sleep well.

  As soon as Matt had gone, she’d hurried across the room and locked the door. Not that she expected to be disturbed again. But the action offered a sense of security she’d totally lost.

  And, despite being exhausted after all the physical and emotional stimulus of the day, she couldn’t rest. She tossed and turned for hours, wondering what she’d have done if the maid hadn’t interrupted them. What had she been thinking? Had she even been thinking? Or had Matt’s demands on her senses reduced her brain to a quivering lump of mush?

  Perhaps.

  She knew she’d totally forgotten her reasons for making this journey. She hadn’t thought about her mother, or her father, or what any relationship she might have wit
h Matt would do to them.

  Particularly her mother, she conceded, half guiltily, aware that, however reprehensible her mother’s behaviour might have been, she evidently cared about Matt. As evidence: the fact that she’d virtually ordered Rachel to leave the island. It wasn’t her fault that her daughter was as susceptible to the man as she had been herself.

  Rachel’s only excuse was that the events of the day had left her reeling. And the gratitude she’d felt towards Matt had made her vulnerable in a way she’d never been before. How was she expected to understand feelings that went beyond anything she’d ever experienced? How could she cope with a man who was as unpredictable as he was beautiful?

  But that was too simple an explanation for what had occurred. She’d always been able to control her emotions in the past, so why couldn’t she control them now? Something had changed. Something she dared not examine. Since meeting Matt, common sense seemed to have deserted her.

  She’d wanted him. There was no doubt about that. For the first time in her life she’d understood the emotional needs that had so far been denied to her. She’d wanted to give herself to him. She hadn’t cared about losing control, or losing her virginity. Those things had meant nothing at that moment. She’d wanted to take what he was offering and run with it, to find out at last what she’d been missing all these years.

  Or not.

  She was fully aware that the experience might not live up to her expectations. When she was at school, she’d decided she wasn’t a sexual person at all. Despite her appearance—and the fact that boys thought she must be gagging for it—Rachel had had no difficulty in keeping amorous youths at bay.

  Unfortunately, as she’d grown older she’d realised that those early experiences had helped to establish the pattern of her life. She’d had male friends, but she’d never allowed any of them to get close to her. She’d enjoyed their company, their conversation, but as soon as some commitment was needed Rachel had quickly moved on.

  And as for love…

  How arrogant she’d been, she thought as she lay sleepless, pummelling her pillow continuously, trying to find a comfortable place to lay her head. She’d been foolish to make such a sweeping assumption about her future. Just because she’d never met a man she wanted to go to bed with, it didn’t mean he wasn’t out there somewhere.

  Someone like Matt…

  She was up and dressed early the next morning. Her hair, untamed after her shower the night before, now curled riotously to her shoulders. There were lines around her eyes, not surprisingly after the restless night she’d spent, and her lips looked faintly bruised from Matt’s sensual mouth.

  She touched her lips with fingers that trembled slightly. But then, seeing the weakness, she dragged her hand away. Okay, she was a virgin, but thankfully Matt didn’t know that. And if she did see him today she was going to have to pretend he hadn’t just blown her mind.

  She didn’t think she would see him, though. He had no doubt had second thoughts about what had so nearly happened last night, just as she had. She recalled how he’d stood and stared at the door after the maid had departed. It was as if he’d been steeling himself to tell her he was leaving, too.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Dear God, his involvement with her had obviously gone far further than he’d intended. It was all right telling herself that she was doing it for her father, but was she? How far was she prepared to go to save her parents’ marriage?

  After brushing her hair and securing it with a scrunchie, she examined her arms and legs. The skin still looked a bit angry, but the cream Matt had given her had definitely helped. The burning sensation had almost completely gone.

  Then she stepped out onto her balcony, trying to regain the optimism she’d felt when she first arrived on the island. The warmth, the atmosphere, the promise of another beautiful day, were appealing. If only she could concentrate on why she was really here.

  Below her, the seductive beauty of the pool mocked her reasoning. It held so many connotations, not least the recollection of what had happened the night before in this room. It was impossible to escape those memories. She had the feeling they’d stay with her for the rest of her life.

  Her stomach clenched. If she did see Matt again, how was she going to face him? Recalling the way he’d seen her, on the bed behind her, she felt sick. He might have been just as involved as she had, but he hadn’t been naked. Somehow that made everything worse from her point of view.

  Still, it was just as well he had had his clothes on when the maid had knocked at the door. She had little doubt that their being together, alone, in her room had not gone unremarked by his staff. She could only hope that the fact that Matt had practically followed the woman downstairs would silence the gossips. Was there a chance that her mother might hear about it, too?

  Oh, God!

  Thinking about her mother aroused other concerns. She was fairly sure Sara Claiborne would contact the hotel this morning, just to make sure that Rachel had checked out. And when she found she hadn’t, could Rachel expect another visit? And if she did appear, what was Rachel going to say?

  She decided to wear a simple chemise dress in island cotton. It was navy, with purple flowers, and she’d bought it on her first trip into town when she’d realised that her wardrobe was fairly limited. The colours helped to tone down her sunburned arms.

  She spent a few minutes tidying her room before going down for breakfast. She had no desire to be the first person in the restaurant, particularly as she had no appetite to speak of. But she needed to think, to marshal her defences, just in case her mother turned up again. And she’d do that so much better, she thought, with a couple of cups of strong black coffee inside her.

  Thankfully, there were several other guests already occupying the tables on the patio. One or two of them acknowledged Rachel, and she managed a friendly wave of recognition. Although it was only a little after eight, people did seem to get up earlier here. Probably to get out and about before the heat of the day sucked all their energy.

  She’d drunk three cups of coffee and managed to swallow half an English muffin when someone spoke to her.

  It was a male voice, and she instantly thought of Matt. But the young man standing beside her table was a stranger. Well, not a complete stranger, she admitted honestly. He and his partner were two of the people who’d waved to her when she’d first come down.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, putting a hand on the back of the chair opposite, evidently waiting for an invitation to sit down.

  But Rachel didn’t respond to his silent question. She merely raised her face to his and forced a small smile. ‘Hi,’ she returned, and then dropped her eyes to her plate again, in the hope that he’d get the message. He was already one of a couple. So what was he doing talking to her?

  He didn’t move away. Instead, he said, ‘Are you enjoying your holiday?’

  Rachel was tempted to tell him she wasn’t on holiday, exactly, but that would require too much explanation. ‘Very much,’ she replied, in what she hoped was a quelling tone. Then, pushing back her chair she got purposefully to her feet.

  She was preparing to give him another smile and move away, but he blocked her exit.

  ‘You’re on your own, aren’t you?’ he persisted. ‘Luce and I saw you sitting by the pool yesterday. We wondered if you’d like to join us for the morning. We’ve booked one of those boat trips that take you to a secluded cove where you can swim and snorkel. They offer you a picnic on the beach, as well.’

  Rachel immediately felt guilty. Was she so conceited that she’d mistaken a friendly gesture for a pass?

  ‘I—well, that’s very kind of you—’

  ‘If you’ve got something else planned, then that’s okay.’

  Had she?

  The answer was a definite no. Short of making another trip into town to try and find out where her mother was staying, she had no plans. There was nothing to stop her from joining them, and it might be fun.

  ‘I don’t ha
ve anything else planned,’ she admitted, glancing across the patio to where his partner was waiting. The girl waved, and any lingering doubts Rachel might have had faded away. ‘Thank you. I’d be happy to join you. What time are you leaving?’

  ‘About nine.’ The man grinned. ‘My name’s Mark Douglas, by the way. And that’s my wife, Lucy.’

  ‘Oh—well, I’m Rachel Claiborne.’ Rachel gave the girl another awkward wave. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby, right? I just need to collect a few things from my room.’

  Most particularly sunscreen, she thought. She wasn’t at all sure that going out in the sun again was the most sensible thing to do.

  But it was only for the morning…

  ‘Great.’

  Mark looked pleased, and although Rachel knew she had no reason to feel apprehensive she hoped she wasn’t making a big mistake. And not just about going out in the sun, she thought anxiously. But, for heaven’s sake, they were going on a boat with a lot of other people. And his wife didn’t look the type to allow her husband to play around.

  Chapter Nine

  To BEGIN with, Rachel enjoyed the outing.

  It was so good to be with people who knew nothing about her. Who accepted her story that she’d planned to come on holiday with a girlfriend, but the friend had been taken ill at the last moment and been unable to come.

  And Mark and Lucy were a nice couple. Mark did most of the talking, but Lucy seemed not to mind. A placid girl, with long dark hair and pretty features, she seemed quite content to leave everything to him.

  It was only when her husband went to talk to the skipper of the vessel that she confided to Rachel that they were on their honeymoon. She became quite animated when she described the elaborate wedding dress she’d worn.

  They anchored off a small cove, and most of the young people on board dived into the water and swam to the beach. The older members of the party were ferried ashore in a dinghy. Then time was allotted for swimming and snorkelling before a picnic lunch was served.