Nicole didn’t resist any of Quin’s actions. Submitting to them actually kept him at a distance. She was being undressed by someone she couldn’t see, being ministered to by someone she couldn’t see. Now she was completely naked, yet in a strange, detached way she didn’t feel vulnerable. She had a sense of liberation from all the responsibilities she had carried for so long. Right at this moment she existed only as a woman, revelling in the re-awakening of her sexuality.
His hands grazed her inner thighs as he straightened up behind her. They cupped the rounded voluptuousness of her bottom, then parted the soft cheeks enough for him to press the hard thick shaft of his erection along the cleft. Then his arms were around her waist, drawing her whole body back against his, making her acutely aware of his nakedness.
It was both strange and familiar—strange because she hadn’t been with a man like this since Quin—familiar because it was Quin and her body recognised every inch of him. And she could not stop a wildly primitive wave of exultation in the recognition. Her man…her mate…
Except he wasn’t.
Quin Sola belonged only to himself.
“What are you seeing out there?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she answered, her voice sounding oddly rough, as though it was being resurrected from a long period of disuse.
“Then let me show you something to see.”
He dropped his embrace, took her hand, and led her across the living room and down the hall he had entered earlier. He stopped at a door, opened it, and took her into a large bedroom. Nicole barely noticed the bed. Beyond it was another wall of glass but her gaze was not drawn to yet another view of Sydney Harbour. It was instantly captivated by what was set up in front of the middle window.
The glass butterfly had been placed on a pedestal and spotlighted by a lamp shining up behind it and turning the wings into a stunning fluorescent blue.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NO DOUBT about it, Quin thought triumphantly. As a tactic to crack Nicole’s wall of indifference to him, placing the blue butterfly centre stage and spotlighting it was an act of pure genius. Gone was the submissive sex slave. She spun to face him in full frontal attack, her green eyes shooting furious sparks, outrage pumping through her, shoulders back, breasts lifting, and if her taut nipples had been pistols, there would probably be blood on the floor right now.
“What do you think you’re playing at?”
Definitely a kill note in her voice.
“It’s a beautiful piece,” he stated calmly. “It should be displayed like that. Why are you upset by it?”
“You did it deliberately.”
Violent accusation.
“Yes, I did,” Quin agreed. “I wanted to get the best effect.”
“Since when have you been interested in doing home decoration?”
Blistering scorn.
He smiled. “You inspired me to start tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because it means something to you.”
“No, it doesn’t!” she denied heatedly, her hands clenching, her need to fight the point making Quin all the more certain he’d hit on a highly vulnerable area in her current life.
“Then it shouldn’t be upsetting you, Nicole. My aim was to give you pleasure.”
“Pleasure!”
The fury in her eyes whirled into confusion, followed by flickers of fear at having reacted too strongly, consequently revealing there was far more to the issue of the butterfly than she wanted him to know.
“Pleasure beyond what we share in bed,” he said silkily, moving in to claim what she owed him, taking her in his embrace, ignoring the stiff resistance of her body as he pressed his to it. “It’s something beautiful for you to look at tonight. And when you wake in the morning.”
Her hands were still clenched at her sides. Her eyes burned with an angry hatred. There was nothing cool and detached about her now. Why she should hate him, he didn’t know, but hate was infinitely better than indifference. Quin sensed she was steaming inside, wanting to lash out at him, and he exulted in having stirred so much volatile emotion. He didn’t want a passive Nicole in bed. He wanted the passionate Nicole who’d left an indelible imprint on his memory.
“Bed,” she bit out, pouring a mountain of venom into the word. “Right! Let’s get to it!”
He laughed at her boiling impatience to get it over and done with. “Not so fast, Nicole. We haven’t even kissed yet.”
“Not a good idea, Quin,” she flashed back at him. “I might bite your tongue out.”
“I think I’ll risk it anyhow.”
“Whores don’t kiss.”
“You’re no whore, Nicole. The money is totally irrelevant to what pulses between us.”
“That’s your ego talking, Quin. I wouldn’t be here but for the money.”
“Okay. Then give me my money’s worth.” He whipped a hand up to cup her chin, holding her face so she couldn’t turn it away. “Use your tongue for something other than talking.”
She opened her mouth to speak again and he swooped on it, his own passions aroused by her refusal to acknowledge the powerful chemistry between them. He kissed her hard, determined on crashing through any resistance.
There was a non-responsive moment of shock.
Then her tongue was tangling with his in a fierce duel for possession, no holding back, no sharp teeth trying to beat him into retreat. She assaulted his mouth with as much pumped up passion as he assaulted hers, and the excitement of it was so intense, Quin’s entire body was seized with the need to drive it further.
Her arms had wound around his neck, hands thrust aggressively into his hair to enforce her kiss. It was easy to lower his hold on her, using the leverage of her lushly cushioned bottom to lift her up enough for him to stride to the bed and move them both onto it. Her legs sprawled apart invitingly as he came down on top of her. An exhilarating rush of adrenaline surged through him at the obvious proof that she wanted him as urgently as he wanted her.
Swiftly positioning himself, feeling her moist heat, knowing she was ready, her flesh quivering, craving what he craved, Quin was on the point of plunging forward when she suddenly slammed her hands against his shoulders and cried, “No! No! Wait!”
“What for?” he snapped, every taut nerve and muscle protesting the delay, his mind angrily whirling over the thought of her playing some sadistic, teasing game with him.
“You have to use protection, Quin,” she said forcefully, her breasts heaving against his chest, her knees up, feet planted to give her pushing strength if she had to use it.