He felt her every response, the little tiny ripples and the big, building need that swept all inhibitions out of its path. It seemed as if her senses uncurled at his touch, like a flower turning towards sunlight. It moved Jay more than he would have believed possible. He kissed her lingeringly.
Zoe clung. He knew from the way she writhed in his arms that she could not wait much longer.
Then he let her do what she wanted.
She urged him inside her. He hesitated only a moment. But he was not superhuman and she was breathless with an imperative need that he recognised even if she didn’t.
It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. He knew it at once and froze, shocked.
Zoe cried out. ‘No. Leave me alone. I can’t bear it.’
He nearly did. But then he thought how much it had cost her to get here. How much she had trusted him to get her through this.
An inner voice jeered. You’re supposed to be the expert, Jay. Can’t you do it after all?
He paused, agonised. Hardly believing what he was doing, he held himself very still. But he did not withdraw.
He said with difficulty, ‘Zoe, my love, we need to get this over.’
Jay realised too late that he had called her ‘my love’. What was he thinking of? Love was never part of their bargain. He could have bitten his tongue out. But it was impossible to recall it.
He did not notice that he said ‘we’. But Zoe did. She stopped thinking about her straining flesh and stared up at him, amazed.
Zoe, my love! She could not believe it. She had asked him for practical help. Was she being given the moon without asking? Without even suspecting it was available?
She touched her palm to his warm shoulder in wonder. He felt as if he were on fire.
He still did not move. But he said urgently, ‘Darling, if you make me stop now, we’ve got it all to do again.’
We! Again! She swallowed shakily.
He was supporting himself on his elbows, but he touched his fingers to her face. It was as fleeting as the thistledown that blew past her cheek in the summer garden at home. Gone before she had time to turn her head into the caress. Zoe felt cheated.
But Jay was saying soberly, ‘I know I can’t stop it hurting. But I can get you through it quickly.’ He smiled down at her, straight into her eyes. ‘It’s what I promised, after all.’
She nearly did not recognise him, his eyes were so blazing with tenderness.
‘Think,’ he said softly. ‘Just once and you don’t have to dread it ever again.’
That smile made her head spin. It also made her feel brave. She thought, Smile at me like that and I don’t have to dread anything.
She nearly said so. But she was shy. Crazily shy, in the circumstances. And not sure that it was what he wanted to hear. And suddenly bodies seemed the best communicators after all.
She ran her palms over his shoulders, savouring the warmth and strength and sheer otherness of him.
‘Oh, well,’ she said, doing her best to keep it light. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. Go—’ She broke off, gasping.
He had delivered one clean, swift thrust and pain tore through her like a typhoon.
From a long way away, she heard him say, ‘Oh, love.’
Eventually the nuclear cloud blew away and she opened her eyes. She was lying on the big gilded bed in a room full of antiques and the man who made her head spin was lying propped on one golden arm, watching her.
‘Zoe?’
‘Present,’ she said, trying to make a joke of it. Her voice cracked.
His mouth tightened. ‘That was unforgivable. I should never have—’
But she stopped him by putting her fingers over his mouth. It was amazing how good it felt to have the right to do that, to touch his lips.
‘Don’t. It’s over. Like you said.’ Her voice got stronger. ‘About time, too.’
His jaw was so tight it must hurt. ‘I’m sorry. You were unlucky,’ he said curtly.
Zoe brushed her lips against his naked shoulder quickly. She was not quite so sure she had the right to do that, and didn’t want to risk rejection.
‘We were unlucky,’ she corrected.
She fell back among the pillows, eyes closed. She was not shy, she told herself rebelliously. It would be ridiculous to be shy after making love to the man. Well, sort of making love to him. And she was a twenty-first century independent woman, after all. She just did not feel up to meeting his eyes quite yet, that was all.