Make Love Not War (13 page)

They alighted at the tenth floor. Caroline followed him down a carpeted corridor to a wooden door. Without speaking he unlocked it and ushered her in. A subdued glow enveloped the room so there must have been a dimmer on the light switch.

“Have a seat while I put the percolator on. I could do with a coffee, it might clear my head.”

Sitting on the velour couch, she gratefully sank into its softness. Her legs were weak; her whole body felt fluid, as if it floated on a calm sea.

Her wavering vision scanned the room. White shag pile carpet covered the floor. A beautiful room, but what a shame it lacked warmth.

He returned with two ceramic coffee mugs. “White with one sugar, isn’t it?”

“Yes, thank you.”

They sipped the coffee in silence and her head began to clear. What a fool she had been to guzzle so much champagne when she wasn’t used to it. When she finished her coffee, he took the empty mug and placed it on the coffee table.

He put his arm around her to draw her close and the subtle scent of his aftershave lotion infused her nostrils, causing her to become light-headed again.

“Did you enjoy the party?”

“Yes, it was great.” But this is the best part of all. She had him to herself, if only for a short time.

He kissed her, gently, almost hesitantly at first. Madness, a voice screamed inside her head. She ignored it and returned his kisses with fervor, trying to tell him with actions what she couldn’t tell him in words. She loved him.

He eased her back onto the couch until she lay stretched out along the length of it.

His hands caressed her breasts through her frock and she trembled at his touch. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare flesh, wanted him to see her blossoming nipples. She wore her bikini bottoms but not the top. Without being asked, she slipped her dress up over her head. His strangled groan echoed around the room.

He shifted slightly so his body covered hers. His mouth devoured her lips, her throat and eyelids. “Oh, God,” he gasped the words out. “I want you so badly it’s killing me.”

He dragged off his shirt. The touch of his bare, hair-roughened chest against her breasts became an exquisite form of torture. Her womanly center pulsated with an urgency that matched his.

From her breasts to her navel he rained kisses, and when his fingers fumbled with the tie on her bikini briefs she didn’t care about anything except him.

“Will you stay the night with me?” he asked in a voice raw with emotion.

“Yes. I love you.” She was shocked when the last three words fell out of her mouth of their own volition.

“Prove it.  Stay the night with me.”

Effortlessly he picked her up. Cradling her in his arms, he strode to his bedroom, turned back the sheets and laid her on the bed.

His mouth covered hers. His hands stroked her heated skin, fanning a passion she had never known existed until he brought it into raging life.

When he eased himself away she could hear him removing his clothing in the darkness. He was naked when he joined her on the bed.

His hand slid between her thighs and his fingers caressed her soft, feminine curls. She raised her knees, letting her legs fall open to give him easy access.  He parted her quivering flesh with his thumbs. She felt his tongue slide into her hot moistness. He suckled her bud, tugging it gently with his teeth, taking it into his warm mouth, working her until she was demented with need.

Harsh rapid breathing echoed in her ears. She didn’t know or care which of them it belonged to. Perspiration dampened his shoulders by the time he entered her feminine recess with one long, powerful thrust.

For an agonized second she felt a tearing pain, followed by ecstasy as they moved together in a passionate frenzy. She had never been with a man before, but instinctively knew how to give and receive pleasure beyond anything she had dreamed possible before. “Bryce!” He brought her to an earth-shattering climax. A million stars exploded inside her head, the light so bright she was momentarily blinded.

He didn’t move away, just kissed away the salty tears she didn’t even realize she had shed.

“I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t realize. Did I hurt you?”

“No, it was wonderful. I love you so much. You love me a little, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but by this time she felt too drowsy to notice as she floated on a cloud of after-sex euphoria.

He was cold-stone sober now. “Shit.”  His head throbbed. He never drank champagne as a rule because it gave him a headache. Not that he had consumed all that many glasses anyway, but mixed with the couple of whiskies he’d shared with his father before the party, and two or three beers, it had proved a deadly combination. I’m a bloody fool to have even gotten behind the wheel of a car, let alone bring Caroline here.

He rolled away from her, sick with remorse now his passion had cooled. God alone knew what ramifications might follow
, t
he regrets, the tears and recriminations. Caroline had given him something special tonight and he wasn’t a worthy recipient of such a gift. The women he used for love making were experienced. He cursed his stupidity for not having realized sooner, but it was the sixties, for God’s sake, free love and all that.

His head pounded, so he climbed out of bed and wandered into his bathroom. Fumbling around in the medicine cabinet he found a packet of pain-killing tablets and swallowed a couple with a mouthful of water.

Back in the bedroom Caroline still slept, so he slid carefully into bed to avoid waking her. He wasn’t looking forward to facing her in the cold light of day. He was in no fit state to drive now, and he couldn’t wake her up and bundle her into a cab. That would be too crass. She wasn’t a call girl and he would never treat her like one.

The next m
orning, as Bryce woke, he felt something warm and soft lying against him. Last night’s events came flooding back with shocking intensity. In the morning light she looked young, vulnerable, but oh, so beautiful. Her cheeks were still stained with tears, her well-shaped lips puckered. The sheet, having dropped away, left her creamy breasts and rosy nipples exposed.

His breath caught in his throat and once more he felt a fiery surge of desire. His manhood hardened. What was the matter with him? His excuse for seducing her last night had been that too much alcohol had impaired his judgment. No excuse for his carnal thoughts now except sheer, rampant lust.

He slid out of bed before he gave into his urges and made wild, passionate love to her again. By the time he’d finished showering and shaving he at least felt physically better, but emotionally he couldn’t expunge the guilt of what he had done. With a towel draped around his hips, he padded across to his dressing room, where he dressed in jeans and a burgundy polo shirt. She still slept, so he tiptoed out to the sitting room.

Their discarded clothing lay in tangled confusion on the couch and the floor. He disposed of his in the soiled linen basket, took hers into the bedroom and laid them across the dressing table.

He strode into the kitchen. He was not domesticated, didn’t have to be with hired staff around. He could cook the bare essentials and make a decent cup of coffee.

He glanced at the wall clock. “Hell!” Nine o’clock. After making some coffee and toast, he arranged it on a wooden tray and took it into the bedroom.

“Caroline,” he lowered his voice when he spoke her name, but it still penetrated her sleep. As she opened her eyes he noticed bewilderment, followed by a strawberry flush staining her cheeks and throat.

“I…I made you some breakfast.”

Caroline stared at Bryce without speaking and started to sit up. Oh, God, what had she done?  She made a desperate grab for the sheet and pulled it up over her bare breasts. She didn’t know where to look. What to say.

He set the tray on the bedside table. “The bathroom is through there. After you’ve eaten you might like a shower. There are plenty of fresh towels in the cupboard under the vanity basin. Use my dressing gown, if you like.” His words were stilted. He pointed to the navy silk robe lying across the foot of the bed. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Call out if you need anything.”  He turned and left the room.

She raised herself higher in the bed, wrapping the sheet under her arms. If she ate anything she would be ill, but she took a gulp of coffee. What had she done?  Shame and humiliation engulfed her.

She loved Bryce, loved him so much it had become a burning, tormenting flame scorching right through her, but even at the height of his passion he had mentioned nothing about love.

The coffee burned her throat but she welcomed the diversion the pain gave. He didn’t love her, probably didn’t even like her
very
much. Fueled by alcohol, she had encouraged him, thrown away her inhibitions, and he had been the same. The only reasonable course of action now was to try to make a dignified exit.

Slipping out of bed, she donned the robe. The fabric felt smooth against her skin and his male scent lingered in the fibers. Should she make the bed? She swung around and her hands flew to her face in horror. The pristine whiteness of his sheet was stained with droplets of her virginal blood. Oh, God. She started trembling. What now? Change the sheets? Ask him what to do?

She folded her arms across her breasts and rocked backwards and forwards. After the initial pain of his penetration there had only been bliss. He was too consummate a lover to leave her feeling sore. No, the stark truth of what she had given away last night screamed at her from the bed linen.

If he had loved her, those droplets of blood would have been a badge of honor. She rushed over to the bed, wrenched the sheets off and stormed into the bathroom. By the time she disposed of the linen in his washing basket her spurt of anger fizzled out.

In normal circumstances she would have admired the opulent black marble bath. Two people could stretch out fully in it. But for all she cared right now, it could have been a horse trough. Discarding the robe, she stepped into the shower cubicle. Two sets of shower knobs. His and hers?

She turned the taps on full bore, wishing she could stay there forever. Eventually she stepped out and, after drying herself on a large fluffy towel, stood trembling, prolonging the time until she would have to confront Bryce.

She folded the towel in half, hung it on the rack and stumbled out into his bedroom. Her clothes had been neatly laid out on the dressing table, and she slipped them on. Where were her shoes?  Probably still in the sitting room where she had so carelessly kicked them off last night. Her bra and panties were in her handbag. Thank goodness he hadn’t had to handle such intimate items of clothing.

She picked up a tan leather brush and ran it through her tangled hair. Grimacing at her wan appearance, she took in several deep steadying breaths. You can do this. You have to. Mustering her courage, she trudged into the kitchen.

Bryce lounged at an island-type bench, reading the papers. An empty plate and cup sat next to him.

“I wasn’t hungry.” She placed the tray on the bench.

When he glanced up, those well-shaped lips she had tasted so wantonly last night were drawn into tight lines. Still extremely kissable, though.

“Another cup of coffee?” he asked in overly polite tones.

“Yes, thank you.”

He switched the percolator back on and sat watching her without speaking.

A muscle convulsed in his jaw. He cleared his throat a couple of times. “I’m sorry about last night. I know it’s inadequate, but what else can I say?”

“It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have asked to come here, should have stopped you before, well, before things got out of control.” Her voice wobbled. If only he said he loved her, everything would be all right. She would be happy instead of distraught.

He didn’t say anything more, just turned the percolator off when it bubbled and refilled both their cups.

They drank in silence. She idly noticed a modern wall oven with concealed hot plates, and there was a dishwasher and garbage disposal unit. Everything looked ultramodern and expensive, but cold and clinical.

When the silence became unbearable, she broke it by saying, “I’d like to go home soon. Could you call me a cab?”

“I’ll run you home when we’ve finished our coffee.”

“I…I took off the bed linen and…”

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” he said, cutting her off. “My housekeeper comes in on a daily basis and takes care of everything.”

Not bloodstained sheets. Nausea grabbed at her stomach.

He gave a tight smile. He looked embarrassed, but couldn’t possibly feel as bad as her.

Gulping down the last couple of mouthfuls of coffee she put the cup down.

She stood. “I’d like to leave now, please.”

He glanced down at his bare feet. “I’ll go and put some shoes on.”   

She waited for him in the sitting room. Daylight only emphasized the luxurious surroundings. Bryce’s world could never be hers. Not that it could stifle the love and longing in her heart. Insurmountable obstacles could be overcome by love, but he didn’t love her, pure and simple.

He drove her home without speaking. She glanced at his stony, brooding profile a couple of times. It didn’t take much imagination to realize she wasn’t the only one regretting last night’s passion. He pulled up outside her apartment, came around to let her out of the car.