Sally Wentworth - A Typical Male (14 page)

Brett's
eyebrows rose. 'You didn't bring a suitcase?'

'No. Coming
here was a sort of spur-of-the- moment thing.'

He frowned,
the ego-comforting idea that she'd been just waiting for her friend to be out
of the way before she came rushing back to him suddenly dissolving. 'You didn't
plan to come down?'

Seeing his
frown, Tasha set the things down and put her arms round his neck. 'Not last
night. The idea was to go home from Sarah's parents and come down this morning,
plus suitcase. But then I suddenly thought, why wait? So I came straight here.'

It wasn't
strictly true, but it immediately dissolved his frown and made him laugh. 'Only
you could do that. What do I get if I go and get your clothes?'

'Arrested, I should think, if you go like that.'

'Who's to see?'

'I saw two boats full of
sightseers go by the cove this morning. Are you the sight they've come to see?'

Brett grimaced. 'They're the
only drawback in the summer.' Undoing the belt of the robe, he slid his hands
inside. Her skin was warm, like finest silk, so firm
and yet so pliant beneath his hands. 'You're so lovely,' he murmured, kissing
her neck. 'So very lovely.' He stroked her length,
making himself randy. 'Come back to bed.'

Tasha laughingly pushed him
away. 'Later. Go and get your trousers on, King, then get my clothes before
they're washed away by the sea. You wouldn't like me to be left without a thing
to wear, now, would you?'

'Do you really want me to answer
a silly question like that?'

'All right, how's this? No clothes, no sex. Get it?'

'I'm on my way.' He turned and
strode for the door.

'Hey!'

He glanced down. 'Oh, yeah.' Reaching out, he plucked the robe from her
shoulders, then just had to kiss her indignant face
before he shrugged it on.

When he came back, carrying
their clothes, Tasha was no longer in the kitchen. He yelled out to her and she
called back from the bedroom. He found her sitting up in the bed, wearing one
of his shirts and drinking a glass of orange juice. She looked completely
relaxed and at home, almost as if she was meant to be there. As far as Brett
was concerned that was exactly where he wanted her. 'Your
clothes, ma'am.' He dumped them all on a chair, took off the robe and
got into bed with her. 'Who said you could borrow that shirt?'

'Do you
object?'

'I think
you should return it at once.'

She put her tongue out at him,
then laughed when he immediately leaned forward and
kissed it.

'You've
got the cutest tongue.'

'Want some
orange juice?'

'Please.'

She poured some for him and he
leaned back against the pillows in utter contentment; he couldn't remember when
he had felt so good, so happy and so fulfilled. Letting his fingers run down
her spine, he said in smug triumph, 'I always knew you'd be a wildcat in bed.'

She glanced at him over her
shoulder, her mouth pouting, her eyes wanton. 'You
thought about it, huh?'

Just that look turned him on.
His voice dry, Brett said, 'I've been able to think of little else but what it
would be like since the day I met you.'

'And now
you know,' she said softly.

'And now I know what an
incredible woman you are,' he agreed. 'Last night was—just fantastic, my
darling.' He waited, but when she didn't say anything said in a mock-patient
voice, 'You are now supposed to say that you did at least enjoy it.'

An imp of mischief came into
her blue eyes. 'Oh, really? Was I supposed to enjoy
it, then?'

'Minx! Why don't you finish that and come here?'

She took a sip from her glass,
her eyes on him, then ran the tip of her tongue over
her lips.

'God, I love it when you do
that. It's so damn sexy. Drink it up.'

'I'm in no
hurry.'

'Tasha!'

She laughed at him. 'Is Vesuvius
on the boil again?'

'Definitely.'

'Well, in that case…' She put
the glass aside and moved over to him. 'This time I'll remember I'm supposed to
enjoy it.'

He was left in no doubt that she
did, her moans of pleasure filling his ears, her tremors of delight thrilling
his body. And afterwards, when they were both spent, he held her close,
thinking that this had been the best time yet, that he could never have enough
of her.

Brett would have liked to stay
in bed all day, but Tasha slipped to the bathroom to shower and when she came
out began to dress. 'I shall have to go out and buy some clothes,' she informed
him. 'Which way is the nearest town?'

'Why bother? I shall only take
them off again,' he said complacently.

'If I don't buy some, then I'll
have to go all the way back to London to pack a case.'

He was immediately out of bed.
'I'll be with you in two minutes.'

'You don't have to come. I can manage.'

'Are you crazy? Now that I've
finally got you here I'm not going to let you out of my sight.'

'But your
book? I wouldn't want to stop your work.'

'To hell with the book! Don't move.'

He showered and shaved swiftly,
pulled on clean jeans and shirt, then went to find her. Tasha was standing
among the foxgloves in the garden and he caught his breath, so fierce was the
wish that he could paint. She made such a vibrant picture, with her red hair
blowing about her head, the carpet of colour reaching above her waist and the
cloudless blue of the sky behind her. But he could do the next best thing.
Backing into the cottage, Brett found his camera and stood in the doorway to
take a photograph that he knew couldn't be anything but perfect. Tasha was unaware
of him; she was looking away from the house, her head tilted a little towards
the sun and the sea, a small smile of contentment on her lips. It was a smile
that matched his own wide grin, that spoke of a
perfect night of sexual fulfilment.

Impatient to see the finished result, Brett took the film from the
camera, then strolled outside. 'Ready
to go?'

'I'll just
get my bag.'

Brett drove into the nearest town, the car roof open, and they joined
in the throng of tourists strolling the streets. Their
only disagreement came when Tasha had chosen some clothes and he went to pay.
But she immediately took out her own credit card and handed it to the
assistant. 'I'll buy my own things.'

'But I want
to get them for you.'

'Thanks,
but no.'

Aware of the assistant's curiosity, Brett waited until she was out of
earshot before putting a possessive hand on Tasha's waist and saying, 'Surely
now I'm allowed to buy things for you, darling?'

She gave him a direct look. 'No. I haven't given you that right.'

Brett's eyes widened in surprise and then his face tightened. 'Doesn't
giving me your body mean anything, then?'

'It means a great deal.' Tasha's eyes softened and she put up a hand
to stroke his face. 'I think you know that. But it doesn't mean that I belong
to you. I'm a person, independent of what we do together, and you must let me
stay that way.'

He was disappointed but tried
not to show it; he wanted her to be dependent on him, entirely dependent, but
obviously that one night, erotic as it had been, hadn't been enough. But there
was time yet. He would make her so sated by sex, so fulfilled by it, that soon
she wouldn't be able to live without it. Bending to kiss her, he murmured, 'OK,
we'll do it your way.' But he didn't mean it, and in that moment he decided to
make her fall in love with him.

CHAPTER SIX

They had
lunch in the town, then bought enough supplies to last
them for a few days before heading back to the cottage. Already Brett wanted
her again. Walking through the town with Tasha, a negligent hand on her shoulder
or waist, to let everyone know that they were intimate, had been a pleasure out
of all proportion to what he had known in the past. He had walked with other
women before, women he had taken to his bed, but he had never felt such pride
before, such triumph in possession. Perhaps it was because Tasha had played
hard to get for so long, until his desire for her had become all-consuming. Or
perhaps it was because he'd thought he'd lost her and then she had come to him
of her own accord. Or, there again, it could be simply because it had been such
extraordinarily great sex.

When they got back to the cottage, Brett took in the food while Tasha
carried the shopping bags full of her new clothes. She went to take them
upstairs but found that Brett had just dumped the groceries and was behind her,
chasing her. In the bedroom he didn't even give her time to take her clothes
off, his eagerness for her was on fire and had to be satisfied now, now!

It was only afterwards that he undressed her slowly, unbuttoning her
shirt to stroke and caress her breasts, pulling down the zip of her skirt and
running his hand inside. Tasha stood it for a while, then reached out and began
to take off his clothes, too. When they were naked they made love again, but
slowly, oh, so slowly, each endeavouring to give the
other maximum pleasure, to lift them to new heights of sensual excitement.
Brett felt that his body had become an instrument on which Tasha could play the
most delectable tunes, first taking him close to rapture then away again, to
give him a small respite, before stroking and kissing him into brimming delight
that threatened to consume him until she drew back and his quivering body began
to relax again.

'You witch!' he groaned. 'You enchantress.' Opening his eyes a little, he saw her
bending over him, her eyes heavy with desire. 'Come here,' he said thickly, and
pulled her down to kiss her. Then he began to do some teasing of his own.

It was quite some time
afterwards before they found the strength to move. Tasha went to the bathroom
and when she came back, still naked, began to sort through the things she'd
bought that afternoon. 'Can I use one of the drawers in the chest to put my
things in?'

'Sure. Just sling my stuff into one of the others.'

Brett watched her, glad that she
hadn't dressed or wrapped a towel round herself. He wanted her to feel that it
was natural to be naked with him, to be always ready for more lovemaking. Her
body was pale, showing that she hadn't sunbathed much that summer, but there
was a faint flush of colour on her arms and face from their walk round the town
that day. He decided he wanted her to be tanned all over, with no white bikini
marks. Tomorrow he would take her down to the beach, find a private spot, and
they would both sunbathe naked—and make love as often as he could manage it.

Having taken his clothes and put
them into another drawer, Tasha went to replace them with her own, then paused. Reaching into the drawer, she drew something
out and looked at it for a long moment. It was an earring, a rather garish one
of rolled gold with a large red-coloured stone dangling from it. Clipping it
onto her own ear, she pushed back her hair, then finished putting her clothes
away before going to join Brett on the bed.

He reached for her happily and
would have kissed her, but she turned her head so that her profile with the
earring was towards him. Even then he hardly noticed, nuzzling her neck, until
she swung her head and the earring hit him. Blithely unconcerned, he saw it at
last and said, 'Just one earring?'

'Only one had been left behind in the drawer.'

'In the…?'

'Do you bring all your women here, Brett?'

Unable to read anything in her
face, he brazened it out. 'My sisters bring their families here for holidays,
you know. One of them—'

'Liar!' She pinched him hard.

'Ouch!' Brett hoped it meant she
was jealous. If she was, then she must care about him. He held up his hands in
mock-surrender. 'OK, I don't know who left it behind.'

'So you have brought other women here?'

He shrugged. 'I'm no monk,
Tasha. You must have realised that by now.' He put his hand on her thigh. 'Just as you aren't exactly inexperienced.'

'So we're to play tit-for-tat?'

'You
started this,' Brett pointed out.

'A typically masculine remark.' Swinging her
legs off the bed, Tasha began to dress.

'Hey, what are you doing? I thought we were going to spend the
afternoon in bed.'

'I don't feel like it.' Tasha pulled on a blouse and knotted it round
her waist. 'Where have you put the work I left in the car?'

Brett sat up and folded his arms, a grim look to his mouth. 'Is this
supposed to be some kind of punishment, Tasha?'

She glanced at him and raised her eyebrows. 'For you abandoning me at
the service station, do you mean?'

'I
went back for you.'

'Really?' The word wasn't openly disbelieving,
but neither was it pleased. 'Where's my work, Brett?'

Capitulating, knowing that in this fight he would never win, he said,
'Downstairs. In the cupboard by the fireplace.'

She went to go out through the door, but stopped and took off the
earring, then tossed it to him. 'Here. You may want to return this.'

Catching it, Brett threw it with unnecessary force into the wastepaper
basket. But Tasha had already gone. Moodily he got out of bed to dress,
thinking that he had lost control of the situation, which wasn't something he
was used to—not where women were concerned at least.

When he went downstairs Tasha was seated at a gateleg
table, which she had opened, and had set up the lap-top, her papers piled
beside it. Getting himself a beer, he leaned against the wall nearby. She
looked up at him and smiled. The smile surprised him; he'd expected her to be
sulky if not downright cold. Brett hesitated, then his jaw set; he didn't want
to start this particular conversation but he knew it had to be done. Abruptly,
he said, 'I read through your notes.'

Tasha became very still. 'You had no right to do that.'

'I knew
that.'