Sarah watched as his clothes hit the ground. For a businessman he still had the hard, highly toned, muscular body of an athlete. Broad shoulders narrowed to a six pack and …
Her eyes were riveted by the evidence of his impressive arousal.
‘You still like looking at me,’ Raoul said with a slow smile. ‘And I still like you looking at me.’
The touch of her slight hand on his erection drew a shudder from him, and he curled his fingers in her hair as he felt the delicacy of her mouth and tongue take over from where her hand had been.
Sarah, in some dim part of her mind, knew that she should pull back, should tell him that this was now and not then. But she had always been achingly weak around him and nothing had changed.
The taste of him simply transported her. She found that she couldn’t think. Everything had narrowed down to this one moment in time. Her body, which had spent the past five years in cold storage, roared into life and there was nothing she could do about it.
She wriggled out of the rest of her clothes.
She was barely aware of him moving to shut the sitting room door, then tossing one of the throws from a chair onto the ground. She was aware of him muttering something about the sofa not being a suitable spot for lovemaking for anyone who wasn’t vertically challenged.
The fleecy throw was wonderfully soft and thick.
‘This is much better,’ Raoul growled, straddling her and then leaning down so that he could kiss her. At the same time he slid his hands under her back, so that she was arched up to him, her breasts scraping provocatively against his chest. ‘There’s no way that a five-foot sofa can accommodate my six foot two inches.’
‘I don’t recall you being that fussy five years ago,’ Sarah said breathlessly. There was so much of him that she wanted to touch, so much that she had missed.
‘You’ll have to tell me if I’ve lost my sense of adventure,’ he murmured. He felt her twist restlessly under him. It was a cause of deep satisfaction that he knew exactly what she wanted.
He reared back and began to caress her breasts, looking down at her flushed face as he massaged them, rolling his thumbs over the pouting tips of her nipples while she, likewise, attended to his throbbing erection.
This was a foreplay of mutual satisfaction between two people comfortable with each other’s wants. It was like resuming the steps to a well-rehearsed dance.
He bent so that he could feather her neck with kisses—soft, tender nibbles that produced little gasps and moans—and then, taking advantage of the breasts offered up to his exploring mouth, he began to suckle the pink crests, drawing one distended nipple into his mouth, driving her crazy, and making her impatient for him to do the same to the other breast.
It was incredible to think that the body he was now touching had carried his child, and a wave of bitter regret washed over him. So the circumstances would have been all wrong, and he had never factored a child into his life plan, but he would have risen to the challenge. He would have been there right from the very start. He wouldn’t have missed out on the first four years of his son’s life. He wouldn’t have been obliged to spend weeks playing catch up in the father stakes.
But regret was not an emotion with which Raoul was accustomed to dealing, and there was no value in looking at things with the benefit of hindsight.
He blocked out the fanciful notion of a different path and instead trailed his mouth over the flat planes of her stomach, maybe not quite so firm as it had once been, but remarkably free of stretch marks.
The taste of her, as he dipped his tongue to tease her most sensitive spot, was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.
He smoothed his hands over the satin smoothness of her inner thighs and she groaned as he gave his full attention to the task.
Several times he took her so close to the edge that she had to use every ounce of will-power to rein herself back. She wanted him inside her. She found that she was desperate to feel that wonderful moment when he took one deep, final thrust and lost all his control as he came.
‘Are you protected?’
Those three words penetrated her bubble, and it took a few seconds for them to register.
‘Huh?’
‘I haven’t got any protection with me.’ Raoul’s voice was thick with frustration. ‘And you’re not on the pill. I can tell from the expression on your face.’
‘No. I’m not.’ It was slowly sinking in that, however wrapped up he was in the throes of passion, there was no way he would permit another mistake to occur. Look at what his last slip-up had cost him!
‘Still, there are other ways of pleasing each other …’
‘No, I can’t … I’m sorry … I don’t know what happened …’
She rolled onto her side, feeling exposed, and then sat up and looked around to where their clothes lay in random piles on the ground. Reaching out, she picked up her top and hastily shoved it on. This was followed by her underwear, while Raoul watched in silence, before heaving himself up on one elbow to stare at her with brooding force.
‘Don’t tell me that you’ve suddenly decided to have an attack of scruples now!’
‘This was a mistake!’ She backed away from him to take refuge on the sofa, drawing her knees up and hugging herself to stave off a bad bout of the shakes.
She dragged her eyes away from the powerful image of his nudity. She wished that she could honestly tell herself that she had just given in to a temporary urge that had been too strong. But the questions raining down on her were of an altogether more uncomfortable nature.
How far had she really come these past few years? Had she forgotten just how easily he had found it to dump her? To write her off as surplus to requirements when it came to the big plan of how he wanted to live his life?
A few weeks ago Raoul Sinclair had been the biggest mistake she had ever made. Seeing him again had been a shock, but she had risen above that and tried hard to view his reappearance in her life as something good for the sake of Oliver.
Yes, he had still been able to get to her, but her defences had been up and she had been prepared to fight to protect herself.
But he had attacked her in a way she had never planned for. He had won her over with the ease with which he had accepted what must have been a devastating blow to all his long-term plans. He had controlled his ego and his pride to listen to what she had to say, and he had thrown himself into the business of getting to know his son with enthusiasm and heart wrenching humility. Against her will, and against all logic and reason and good judgement, she had succumbed over the weeks to his sense of humour, his patience with Oliver, his determination to go the extra mile.
How many men who had never contemplated having a family, indeed had steadfastly maintained their determination never to go down that road, would have reacted to similar news with the grace that he had?
Sarah suspected that a lot would either have walked away or else would have contributed financially but done the absolute minimum beyond that.
He had reminded her of all the reasons she had fallen in love with him in the first place and more.
Was it any wonder that she had been a sitting target when he had reached out and touched her?
Sarah could have wept, because she knew that fundamentally Raoul hadn’t changed. He might want her body, but he didn’t want her dreams, her hopes or her romantic notions—which, it now seemed, had never abandoned her after all, because they were part and parcel of who she was.
‘Of course this wasn’t a mistake!’ He raked impatient fingers through his hair and looked at her as he got dressed. Huddled on the sofa in front of