He saw the high flush of colour which washed over her cheekbones and the violet-blue fire which sparked from her eyes and in that moment he knew an overwhelming anger at her insolence and interference—coupled with a rush of desire so strong that he felt himself hardening against his will.
‘Yes, I’ll go,’ he said, and God forgive him but he enjoyed the instinctive way she bit her lip at his ready agreement. She would live to regret her impetuosity! And yet he could not resist one parting shot—one more arrogant demonstration of how he could still pull the strings, should he so desire. ‘But before I do—what about a farewell kiss?’ he suggested, his voice one of deceptive silk. ‘For old times’ sake?’
‘N-no.’ But Rebecca’s protest sounded half-hearted and it was too late anyway, for he had caught hold of her and was pulling her into his arms.
One touch and she was lost. Willingly lost. Like a line of fierce flame sweeping down an arid hillside—scorching everything in its touch with instant combustion. She heard his groan as he tightened his embrace and she heard her own echo it. Please make me stop him, she begged herself—but she made no move to stop him.
Afterwards, she would try to justify her actions by telling herself that it was like someone who was just about to go on a long journey without food or drink—and who could blame them for taking part in a banquet if it was offered?
But this was Xandros as she had never seen him before—like a pure-bred stallion, all excitement and fire. And his wild fervour only fuelled her own urgent need. She wanted to drown in his kiss and take him down with her. His hands were on her breasts, moulding them luxuriously against his palms, and then they were smoothing frantically down over her hips and her bottom—and he had begun to ruck her dress up like a man possessed.
And all the while he was kissing her—varying the kiss so that it was in turns hard, and then soft. Cajoling her and tempting her and then inciting her to touch him back—to run her fingers greedily over the hard ridge in his jeans, so that he gave a low, throaty laugh of pleasure.
‘Unzip me,’ he commanded roughly—and to her everlasting shame, she did just that.
Her expensive panties—which were new and had been bought especially for the seduction she had planned for later—were destined to be ripped off and allowed to flutter uselessly to the floor. She couldn’t even in all conscience blame him, could she? Not when she was writhing around—so turned on that she thought she might have urged him to do just that.
There was no finesse about what was taking place now. Xandros was pushing her down against the hard floor and yet her arms were reaching up to try to pull him down on top of her. And he was groaning again, just yanking his jeans down, and she realised that he wasn’t going to bother taking them off but was just going to … going to…
He let out a cry as he thrust into her and it was echoed by her own. She sobbed as he drove in deeper, and then deeper still—deeper than he had ever been—as if he were piercing her soul itself. The wild scream she let out as she bucked beneath him was the heralding of her orgasm—but it also signalled the breaking of her heart. Because the heart didn’t respond to reason and—no matter how many reasons she threw at herself why she shouldn’t—the fact was that she loved him.
She could feel the salty taste of tears welling up at the back of her throat as she tried to imagine a life without Xandros and it was like trying to conjure up a bleak, bare landscape with no sign of light on the horizon.
Afterwards, she lay there for as long as it took for his body to grow still, and then heavy. Hearing his breathing grow more steady, until she was sure that he must have fallen asleep. But then she felt him move.
Moving out of and then away from her and she kept her eyes tight closed to keep the tears at bay—hating herself for wanting him back in her arms, wishing that the whole stupid scene and row had never happened and they could have carried on with the evening as she had planned. Damn it—she couldn’t even remember what the argument had been about.
Silently, Xandros rose to his feet, adjusting his clothes and zipping up his jeans, his heart still pounding madly in his chest. He stared down at Rebecca—her hair had come down and it spilled all over her rosy-flushed neck, shining gold against the rose. A stab of guilt pierced him as he noted the torn and discarded panties on the floor, until he reminded himself that she had wanted that just as much as him. Easily as much.
‘Rebecca?’
She turned her face to the wall and the pain in her heart made her want to curl up like a broken animal. ‘Just go, will you, Xandros?’ she said wearily.
His eyes narrowed, capturing her and the scene in a brief snapshot to file away in his memory one last time. ‘Goodbye, Rebecca,’ he said softly, and shut the door very quietly behind him.
‘WOULD you mind coming in to see me, please, Rebecca?’
Vanessa’s cool voice came down the line and Rebecca gripped the receiver with knuckles which were suddenly snow-white. ‘But my flight isn’t due to leave until this evening,’ she protested.
‘I know that. I have your flight schedule right here in front of me.’ Vanessa’s voice was now positively icy. ‘And I’d really like to see you straight away.’
Rebecca stared at the phone—as if her boss were suddenly going to leap out of it and confront her here, in the supposed sanctuary of her own home, instead of demanding she turn up at the airfield hours early. But deep down, hadn’t she been expecting a summons exactly like this?
The wonder of it was that it hadn’t come sooner.
A lot had happened in the weeks since Xandros had walked out of her apartment after making love to her—and left her lying on the floor feeling cheap and used and heartbroken. She had crawled off to bed and sobbed as if her heart were breaking into a thousand pieces.
It had been a few days before she’d discovered that Xandros had stopped flying with Evolo airline—had terminated all his bookings abruptly and dramatically. The first she’d heard were Vanessa’s mutterings of discontent in the office and Rebecca had prayed that her face wouldn’t colour up and give away the fact that there might be a reason for his decision and that she was it.
But it had been a few weeks later that Rebecca made the most terrifying discovery of all. Even now she could scarcely believe it—but the doctor had confirmed it, and now she had to deal with it as best she could.
And how the hell is that going to be?
Grateful for the concealing uniform jacket, Rebecca pinned her already-too-tight work-skirt and slapped on far more make-up than usual as she prepared herself for the inevitable showdown. Didn’t they say that make-up was a mask? And didn’t she need some kind of camouflage to help her hide her true, see-sawing emotions of terror and despair?
Through the glass of her office, Rebecca could see Vanessa talking animatedly into the phone and when she glanced up and saw her a look of utter fury contorted her face. Putting the phone down, she beckoned to Rebecca to come in.
‘Shut the door,’ were her first words.
Rebecca pushed the door to. ‘You wanted to see me,’ she said, noting that Vanessa hadn’t asked her to sit down, and she was left was standing there, like a naughty child who had been sent for by the angry head-teacher. And isn’t that accurate? taunted the now-familiar voice of her guilty conscience. Don’t you deserve everything you’re about to get?
‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Rebecca,’ said Vanessa coldly. ‘You must realise exactly why you’re here.’
How much did the steely blonde know? Rebecca played for time. ‘I think—’
‘No,