Chapter 65 Roaring

• roaring and hissing. But they were outside things and she was most conscious of Jared, his hand resting on the curve of her waist and hip, his body half behind hers, brushing against it as he reached past her to set his glass of wine down on the flat width of the balustrade.
Then his arms were wrapped around her midriff, and his cheek was rubbing against her hair, and his mouth was close to her ear, his voice low and husky as he murmured, “You’ve held me away from you so long, I have to know this is real.”
“Yes,” she whispered, hearing the echo of her own need.
“I want to breathe in the scent of your hair…feel it, taste it…”
He trailed hot kisses through it, down her neck, and Christabel instinctively arched back, revelling in the sheer sensuality of his desire for her. She felt him move his thighs apart, nestling her more snugly against him, and one of his hands moved to cup the soft swell of her breast, his thumb sweeping over its peak, fanning it into hard prominence.
She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on inner sensations, unable to resist rolling her bottom against him, inciting more awareness, exulting in the thought of exciting him. She wanted him to touch her other breast. It felt as though it was swelling, aching to be held and caressed, but he abandoned the one he held, his arms sliding down, hands spreading over her stomach, pressing an acute recognition of his arousal.
“I need to touch you and it can’t wait,” he warned, his fingers gliding towards her thighs, gathering up the soft fabric of her dress. “Tell me now if you’ve changed your mind.”
She had no intention of changing her mind. It was wildly urging him on. And it was impossible to make any reply. Her breath caught in her throat as her skirt was lifted and everything inside her stilled, poised in mesmerised waiting for what would come next. Fingertips grazed the bare flesh under her hips, making it pulse with quivery excitement. His thumbs reached up and hooked onto the slim elasticised waistband of the G-string. It was drawn down so swiftly, Christabel barely had time to gasp at the boldness of the move before the flimsy garment was dangling around her ankles.
“Step out of it, Christabel.”
“Jared…” It was more a choked cry of shock than protest.
Instantly his arms were around her hips again, on top of her skirt now, the fabric having naturally fallen as his hands had slid her underwear down her legs. The pressure, back into the cradle of his thighs, was a provocative reminder of her own wanton actions.
“I’ll put it in my pocket,” he assured her. “Neither Vikki nor Alicia will see when they come back. No-one will know you’re naked under that dress except you…and me. And I want to know it, Christabel. I want to know you won’t change your mind when Alicia comes to say good-night. I want to know the yes is still yes.”
The passion in his voice sizzled through her. “It will be,” she promised.
“You were in two minds earlier this evening. Make it decisive now. Don’t tease, Christabel. Show me.”
Tease… A guilty flush raced up her neck. The way she’d dressed could only be interpreted as teasing, had she not come this far with him, and what he said was true—no one else would know…except them. And there was something deliciously wicked in being dressed and naked at the same time. Wicked and sexy and terribly stimulating, knowing she was so accessible to any intimate touch from him.
She stepped out of the G-string.
He swooped, unbelievably…erotically… kissing the hollows behind her knees as he picked up the scrap of material and scrunched it into his shirt pocket. Then feather-light fingertips swirled up the outside of her calves and her thighs as he slowly straightened up, moving back into position behind her. The caress circled inwards, under her dress, and her whole body went into exquisite suspension again, tremulously waiting for him to reach further…wanting him to stroke her there.
But the shock of voices coming down the hallway froze that tantalising progress. Jared’s hands slid away and he stepped aside, picking up his wineglass and turning his back to the rain, casually propping himself against the balustrade and studying her face as they waited for the approaching intrusion on their privacy. Christabel found her hand clenched tightly around her own wineglass and was amazed she’d kept holding it all this time.
“You are more beautiful to me than any woman I’ve ever known,” Jared murmured. “And I want this night with you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”
She shivered at the passionate intensity in his voice, suddenly fearful he would press for more afterwards. “You are special to me, too,” she confessed. “But please understand.…”
He pressed a light finger to her lips, halting the words she felt constrained to speak.
“You have a child. And a life you won’t share with me. You don’t have to tell me that, Christabel. You’ve told me so in a thousand ways.”
“I don’t want it to be like this, Jared. It just is,” she pleaded.
He nodded. “I want you to know I value the gift…more than I can say.”
The gift…it was a lovely way of expressing what they were doing, the giving to each other of what they most wanted, the wonder of it, the pleasure, the satisfaction of finally unwrapping what had only been imagined and knowing all it was.
“Mummy…guess what?”
Christabel felt torn as she turned to face the child who could never be Jared’s child. Alicia was owned by her inheritance, and not even her mother could keep that from having its effect in the long run. Both their lives were circumscribed by it, and for several moments Christabel railed against that fate, having to remind herself that her daughter was the innocent victim of it before she could rise above a fierce wave of resentment and smile at the child she loved, now circling the table, assisting the old woman who’d accompanied her in clearing it.
“What am I to guess, Alicia?” She set her wineglass down on the balustrade, ready to attend to her daughter’s needs.
“You don’t have to tell me a story tonight ‘cause Vikki said she would. She knows about dragons.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“And I’m going to sleep in the shell room.”
“It’s all settled then?”
“Yes,” Vikki Chan answered, nodding reassurance as she added, “I’ll tuck the little one into bed and see that she sleeps.”
“It’s very good of you.”
“A pleasure.”
“And thank you for the delicious meal,” Christabel said belatedly, wondering just how much the old woman encompassed in her understanding. Not that it mattered. She would probably never meet Vikki Chan again. One night was one night.
“There’s some ice-cream left over if you want it, Mummy.”
“No. I’ve had enough, Alicia.” The only food she wanted now was food for the soul, her own private feast of memories that might make some sense of being a woman, not just a mother.
“I’ll look after coffee, Vikki,” Jared slid in. “Thank you for everything.”
The old woman flashed him a wise look as she finished clearing the table. “Then I shall retire, too.” Having loaded the last things onto the traymobile, she turned an indulgent smile to Alicia. “You’d best say good-night to your mother now. We have much to do.”
“Yes. We have lots to do,” came the eager agreement. “Good night, Mummy,” she cried, running towards her, arms outflung for a hug and a kiss.
Christabel had an electric few moments, hoping her daughter’s feet wouldn’t catch the hem of her dress as she scooped her up in their usual embrace. To her intense relief, she managed to negotiate the lift safely, with Alicia perched happily against her shoulder as they exchanged good-night kisses.
“Do I get a good-night kiss, too?” Jared asked teasingly, moving into an easily accessible position beside Christabel.
Alicia giggled and slid over to plant one on his offered cheek. It was done without the slightest hesitation, and although Jared wasn’t a stranger to her daughter, it was unusual for her to be so readily familiar with a man. Was it a natural affinity, an instinctive liking and trusting?