Contract with Consequences

moment he started moving, it happened to him again, that rush of adrenaline which heralded his earlier loss of control. He tried to slow everything down but his body had a mind of its own, and he surged deep into her with almost manic determination. Immediately, he was in danger of coming. Immediately. In desperation, he withdrew and flipped her over, pulling her up onto her knees under him, giving himself a few precious seconds of relief before he plunged into her again. Her instant cry of release came to the rescue of his battered pride, allowing him to stop his futile struggle. Eventually, they collapsed together onto the bed, John pulling her sideways into a spoon position so that he didn’t squash her with his weight. When he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close she sighed a happy-sounding sigh. Soon, her breathing slowed and she slipped into that wonderfully sound sleep which often came after great sex.

Unfortunately, John wasn’t so lucky, sleep eluding him as he tried to work out why he’d rocketed so out of control, not once but twice.

The only logical reason he could find was that Scarlet was nothing like his usual woman. Despite her age, she was a relative innocent where sex was concerned. Innocent and touchingly sweet, which could also be a factor in his uncharacteristic responses to her.

John’s choice of bed partners these days were not of the innocent and sweet variety. After he’d left university-where no-strings sex was a common pastime-John had quickly found that sleeping with his female peers in the wider world was hazardous to his peace of mind. Most girls around his age didn’t want one-night stands; they expected him to stay for breakfast. Expected him to ask them out again. Expected to become his steady girlfriend. In short, they wanted commitment, something John wasn’t interested in. He enjoyed the bachelor lifestyle. Enjoyed being free to come and go as he pleased without having to answer to anyone, or upset anyone.

John soon realised that if he wanted to have a reasonably regular and guilt-free sex life he’d have to choose older women to sleep with, ones who weren’t looking for love and marriage. Recently divorced was good, he’d found, along with the occasional career girl who was already married to her job. During the past couple of years, he’d favoured women whose only interest in him was an evening of pleasant company, usually over dinner, followed by a long night of sexual pleasure-always at their place. That way he didn’t have to ask them to leave in the morning. He could do the leaving, when and if he chose.

Bianca had once asked him why he didn’t bring his ‘girlfriends’ home. He’d told his housekeeper that she was the only real girlfriend he had, which had made her laugh.

His heart twisted as he always did when he thought of Bianca.

Best not think about her then, buddy. You can’t change what happened.

Scarlet stirred slightly in her sleep, pulling up her knees and thrusting her very shapely bottom against his stomach, causing his till-then deflated sex to come to life once more with alarming speed.

It was impossible to sleep here now, common sense dictated, John smothering a groan as he very carefully withdrew from her oh-so-delicious body, scowling when he saw the evidence of his renewed desire for her. Truly, this was getting ridiculous!

He threw Scarlet a rueful glance as he quietly rose from the bed and dragged on his boxer shorts. Frigid? She was about as frigid as Darwin in the summer.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SCARLET woke to solitude and silence. She blinked several times, then sat up, pushing her hair back behind her ears as she cocked her head and listened for the sounds of life.

Nothing.

She had no idea what time it was, a quick glance around showing no clock anywhere. The light coming into the room from the balcony suggested it was late. Quite late, a suspicion confirmed by the urgency of her need to go to the bathroom. Scarlet was grateful for John’s absence as she threw back the covers and jumped, naked, from the bed. Though that didn’t stop her wondering where he was. He’d certainly been in bed with her when she’d fallen asleep.

Oh Lord!

Scarlet could not believe how incredible the night had been. How incredible he had felt. Maybe size did matter.

But of course it wasn’t just John’s size which had made last night different from any other night she’d ever spent in bed with a man. She’d been beside herself with the most dizzying pleasure long before he’d stripped off. What John didn’t know about a woman’s body clearly wasn’t worth knowing. He was an extraordinary lover- imaginative and very patient during foreplay, but passionate and primitive when it came to the act itself. She hadn’t forgotten the sounds he’d made when he’d come the first time; how they’d reminded her of a wild beast.

Had that been a subconscious fantasy of her own? she wondered as she washed her hands then stared up at herself in the vanity mirror. To be taken by a wild beast?

She would never have imagined so. But who knew what lurked in the dark recesses of one’s mind?

There was one fantasy that in the cool light of day she decided definitely didn’t appeal to her-that of being a courtesan. Especially John’s courtesan. No way would she enjoy kowtowing to his every sexual whim and wish, Scarlet told herself firmly as she finger-combed her messy hair into place.

On the other hand, she did not regret-or resent-the degree to which she’d enjoyed his love-making. It was exciting, in a way, to discover that with the right lover she was actually highly sexed.

No doubt John was somewhat smug over his successful seduction of her, but c’est la vie. It would be hypocritical of her to start pretending this morning that she hadn’t enjoyed every single moment. Saying so to his face, however, might prove difficult. She still hadn’t overcome her shyness, not to mention her pride.

Her pride was one of the reasons she was reluctant to leave the bathroom before checking that the bedroom was still empty and the bedroom door firmly shut. As much as she hadn’t worried about John seeing her naked last night when she’d been turned on, it was a different matter in the cold light of day. Hurrying back into the bedroom, Scarlet scooped up her pyjama top from where it was lying on the rug beside the bed, donning it quickly before going on a frantic search for the bottom half. She found the shorts under the covers, right down the bottom of the bed. Once they were safely on, she made the bed then, after taking a few calming breaths, went in search of the man himself.

She almost missed him, sprawled sound asleep on one of the sofas, only the sound of his deep but even breathing attracting her attention. Scarlet shook her head as she stared down at his half-naked form, amazed that he could sleep like that without a rug or a blanket for warmth. Okay, so the apartment was air-conditioned, but still…

He really did have a great body, she thought for the umpteenth time as her admiring eyes began travelling over him from head to toe, stopping abruptly when they reached the scar on his right leg, just to the side of his knee. She hadn’t noticed it last night, but then she’d been somewhat distracted at the time. It was quite a nasty scar, purple and puckered around the edges, probably the result of that accident he’d had recently when he’d broken his leg. She wondered how the accident had happened and how bad it had been. If he’d been a normal man, she could have asked him about it. But John wasn’t a normal man, she conceded ruefully. He had this thing about being questioned. Silly, really, but so darned typical of him. He’d always been a loner, with a loner’s persona. ‘Tell ‘em nothing and take ‘em nowhere’: that was obviously his creed in life where women were concerned. It surprised Scarlet that he’d ever admitted to having this long-held desire for her. To do so must have gone against the grain.

She was still puzzling over this conundrum when she spotted an empty glass lying on the rug next to the sofa, right where John might put his foot when he finally woke up and stood up. Scarlet went round, picked the glass up and took a sniff. She didn’t much care for brandy but she knew the smell well, having used brandy often when making Christmas cakes. The fact that John had left the bed and sat out here, drinking, till he fell asleep was another puzzle. Why hadn’t he stayed with her?

Scarlet was standing there, trying to find an answer when she realised John was stirring.

For a split second, she contemplated bolting for the bedroom but, as she’d told him last night, when she was nervous about something, she liked to get it over and done with as soon as possible.