Research into Marriage Page 10

  At nine o'clock she had to suppress a cowardly desire to give in to the boys' entreaties to be allowed to stay up for a while. Even so, she managed to drag out the routine of getting them into bed until just after ten. As she went back downstairs, having wished them both good night, she found herself hoping that the sitting-room would be empty.

  To her relief it was. Lyle must have gone into his surgery to do some work. With him gone she felt able to breathe properly for the first time that evening.

  Shivering a little, she went to the window and watched the approaching storm, gathering momentum now, the thunder drawing ever closer. Storms had never frightened her, on the contrary she found them strangely invigorating, but tonight she was not in the right frame of mind, already far too tense and wound up by the events of the afternoon. She felt as edgy as an animal sensing danger, she thought wryly, acknowledging that her most sensible course would be to remove herself from the possibility of encountering Lyle by going to bed.

  Switching off the light she made her way upstairs, pushing open the door of her bedroom and then coming to an abrupt halt.

  Lyle was standing by the window, apparently watching the storm as she had been doing earlier. Suddenly her throat was so constricted she could barely breathe, her "What are you doing in here?' coming out as an agonised croak.

  'Waiting for you.' He had swung round as she walked in, but with his face in the shadows and his voice devoid of all emotion it was impossible to guess at his mood.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  'Waiting for me?' Unlike his her voice vibrated with her feelings. 'Why? To apologise for your totally unfounded accusations this afternoon?'

  Mild hysteria cramped her stomach as he turned and she saw his face. His voice had deceived her— totally—she could see now that he was blazingly, furiously angry.

  'Apologise? For what? Preventing you from sating your lust for physical satisfaction?'

  It was the ugly, jeering sound of his voice that did it, that and the derogatory look in his eyes. She flew at him like a wildcat, raising her hand to strike his face and then when the grip of his fingers manacling her wrist prevented her, using her nails instead.

  She heard the indrawn hiss of his breath and felt him recoil with a savage sense of pleasure. The thunder outside seemed to be echoed by the tumultuous pounding of her blood as it beat through her body. She was in the grip of a feeling as primitive and elemental as the storm itself, too intent on her own fierce need to draw blood to even think of the consequences until she found herself flat on her back on her bed, with Lyle bending over her, his face contorted in a mask of rage.

  It was his need to punish her for daring to attack her that was responsible for the indignity of her present position; sprawled out on her bed, with the heavy weight of Lyle's body keeping her there, his breathing harsh and uneven, whether from rage or exertion she wasn't quite sure. She squirmed beneath him, her own anger burning as high as his, and then stilled in mute shock as she felt his body's reaction to her.

  For a moment as their glances tangled in mutual recognition it seemed to Jessica that he too was shocked and then the shock was gone and his hands were on her shoulders, pinning her against the bed, his mouth fierce and bitter as it took hers.

  Close at hand now the thunder crashed and rolled, its urgency mirrored in the febrile excitement heating her blood. She could tell that Lyle felt it too. His mouth moved on hers in relentless, feverish need that her mind told her had nothing to do with any gentle emotion, but which her body, fiercely exultant, would not let her heed.

  She felt Lyle's hands slide down her rib cage, gripping her almost bruisingly as he tugged her T-shirt free of her jeans, and part of her brain fought free of desire long enough for her to register how much she wanted the touch of his hands against her skin.

  Her body arched willingly, helping him to remove her thin top and bra.

  Now it was almost dark outside, the lightning that suddenly split the sky almost overhead illuminating her naked breasts, turning her skin a pagan gold.

  She heard the tormented, aroused sound of Lyle's indrawn breath, her body quivering on the verge of intense pleasure as he cupped her breasts, holding them as reverently as though they were indeed made of that most precious of metals.

  Strangely, even while he touched her one part of her knew that like her, tonight he was a different person transformed by his earlier anger. Tomorrow ... But she would not think of that now. She would not even think beyond the exquisite pleasure of the look in Lyle's eyes as he stared down at her.

  Oddly she felt no embarrassment or awkwardness, rather a heightened sense of acceptance; of knowing from the moment she had first seen him that this would happen. And now that it had, with the knowledge of her love for him still fresh in her mind she felt able to abandon herself completely to the fiercely drugging desire heating her veins without either guilt or regret.

  'Beautiful ... you're so beautiful.'

  Lyle's voice was slow and slurred, the tension in his body like that of a man in a trance, and then when, acting on an impulse totally new to her, Jessica arched her spine slightly, pressing her breasts tormentingly into the warmth of his palms, she saw that tension break, his body shivering with reaction as he bent his head and drew the hard peak of one breast into the heat of his mouth.

  Both the caress and the sensations it aroused were new to her, the shock-wave of pleasure convulsing her, making her moan huskily and cling to his shoulders while wave after wave of delight rippled through her. Her one previous lover had not been interested in any form of love- play, and although she had read and heard about it, nothing had prepared her for the intensity of it.

  Now she was shivering too, digging her nails into the smooth muscles of Lyle's back as she fought to hold on to reality and to ignore the deep aching pressure building up low in her body, activated by the feverishly urgent tug of Lyle's mouth on her breast. Her skin was so sensitised and aroused that she could feel the faint abrasion of his jaw, and when at last he released her aching nipple she clung to him, not wanting the pleasure to cease, frightened that somehow the spell might have been broken and that Lyle had realised what he was doing and with whom—because she was convinced that he had been so caught off guard by his own physical desire that he had not yet realised who she was—at least not consciously. To her relief instead of drawing away he turned his attention to her other breast, muttering thickly into her skin.

  'Did you like that? Did it make you feel good? You taste of honey, did you know that?'

  All the time his mouth was moving closer to the pink aureole of her nipple, pressing soft kisses into the smooth skin of her breast as his hand cupped its twin.

  Wholly unable to articulate any response, Jessica did all she could to communicate to him the frantic urgency building up inside her, arching her spine, making small sounds of need deep in her throat that ended in a sob of release as his tongue ceased teasing her aching flesh and his mouth closed satisfyingly around it.

  This time the pleasure was even greater, piercing her almost painfully so that she sobbed his name beneath her breath and moved instinctively beneath him, wanting to get as close as she could to the hard throb of his body.

  When he eased himself away from her slightly, she cried out in denial, reaching down between their bodies to curl her fingers around his wrist, her tension slackening only when she discovered that he was easing down the zip of his jeans.

  His mouth still caressed her breast, and realising he was not after all going to leave her, she started to relax, releasing her grip, but it seemed he had mistaken her intentions and as she pulled away his fingers entwined with hers and then placed her hand against the taut flesh of his belly.

  Beneath her fingertips she could feel the faint abrasion of body hair. She could also feel the tension within him. He moved, placing his lips against her ear, his jeans sliding free of his body as he muttered rawly, 'Touch me ...'

  He shuddered as her hand moved across his body in immediate
response. The fingers of one of his hands were curled into her shoulder, while the other dealt with her own zip.

  The moment she felt the heat of his hand just above the line where her narrow briefs finished, she knew exactly what had made him utter that raw, tormented demand, and it was all the more shocking when suddenly he pushed her hand away and sat up with his back to her, his skin gleaming satin-gold in the half-light.

  Unbelievably the thunder seemed to have stopped, but she had been so wrapped up in her desire for him that she had not even been aware of it. But now it was over. Lyle, it seemed, had realised what he was doing. She started to sit up herself, and then checked, slow quivers of nervous excitement building up inside her as she realised that Lyle wasn't leaving her; he was simply removing the rest of his clothes.

  As he came back to her the thin light fell directly across his body, aroused and undeniably male. She wanted to reach out and touch him, Jessica realised, recognising within herself a primitive and very strong urge to worship and embrace the maleness of him, not so much in desire as in a wholly feminine need to pay homage to him as a male source of life.

  It was a revelationary moment, illuminating for her an aspect of her own nature she had never guessed existed. To kneel before him and caress the male contours of his body might seem to others to be an act of humility and recognition of his male superiority, but Jessica knew that it wasn't that. It was more a need to acknowledge the power and perfection of him, fashioned so specifically to complement and complete her own femininity.

  Her hands were on his thighs before she was even aware of moving. Beneath her fingertips his muscles felt like corded steel, his body so immobile it was almost as though he were afraid to move.

  She glanced up and saw in his face acute torment and acute desire and suddenly realised just what she was doing to him. She started to withdraw, her breath rattling in her lungs as his hands dug into her shoulders, her sense of reality totally swept away as he groaned a tortured denial. He wanted her to touch him.

  Slowly, delicately she did so until their mutual calm was shattered by desire. Jessica could feel it pulsing through his body, thudding openly through his veins and held tightly under control as he thrust her hands away from him, gripping her fingers so tightly that she felt they might break as he fought for control.

  'No ...' The sound was almost strangled in his throat, the muscles clenched and ridging. 'Not like this ... not yet ... I want you ... I want you, Jessica.'

  He had said her name. He knew who she was. His recognition of her half-shocked her into immobility, awareness only flooding back as she felt him removing her jeans.

  Her body was not something she had ever given much thought to in the past, but now suddenly she was anxious about it, and she stiffened in tension as he removed her briefs and looked down at her. For a second the silence was something she could almost feel pressing down on her, and then she heard Lyle sigh and the tension was broken.

  'You're so beautiful.'

  His hands stroked over her skin, gentle and yet scorching her where they touched, making her ache with the torment of all that they promised and yet still withheld. She wanted him. She wanted him now, and in the most primitive and intense way it was possible for a woman to want a man.

  'Jessica.' He said her name against her ear, lying down and taking her into his arms, his voice muffled and strained. 'I can't make love to you the way I wanted to ... I can't wait that long. I want you, now.'

  Jessica wasn't sure which of them had said it, she only knew that as he moved and fitted her beneath his body there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him deep inside her.

  And yet despite the intensity with which she had wanted him there was still a momentary sensation of discomfort, of tightness, quickly dispelled as her body adapted itself to him. Of course it had been a long time, and even then nothing, nothing like this. And then her thoughts turned hazy and finally had to be abandoned as her body picked up the rhythm his was imposing on it, matched it and gloried in it, her legs wrapped tightly round him as she sought to draw him deeper and deeper within her.

  The pulsing, demanding pressure that had been building up inside her from the moment he touched her gathered strength and grew, her body slick with sweat as she arched breathlessly against him and felt the bubble of pleasure explode and expand in a series of pulsing ripples that Lyle's climax caught at their height and intensified to such a pitch that for a moment she almost felt as though she had actually fainted.

  Now with the last residue of pleasure gently washing through her body she was reluctantly coming down to earth. Now the caution she would not acknowledge earlier came crashing down over her, and as Lyle moved away from her and the harsh sound of his breathing started to ease slightly she wondered in appalled comprehension just what interpretation he would put on her behaviour. At all costs he must not guess that she loved him! If he did he was all too likely to send her away, and that was something she could not endure. She had broken the most important of the rules governing their marriage, and now she must try to repair the damage before Lyle started putting two and two together and came up with four.

  It cost her everything she had to appear detached and say calmly, 'I thought you couldn't do that.'

  She felt Lyle's momentary tension without having to look at him. The mattress moved slightly as he levered himself up on one elbow, and knowing that he was watching her Jessica turned her head. In the dim light it was impossible for her to read his expression, but his voice was even calmer than hers as he retorted drily, 'It seems that anger is a very effective aphrodisiac.'

  So now she knew. He had not made love to her out of any real desire for her but simply out of a desire springing from his earlier anger, but then hadn't she known that all along?

  He was still looking at her, and continued to look at her for a long time, almost as though he was searching for something, she thought warily, and then at last he said coolly, 'Do you expect me to apologise?'

  Jessica knew that he was challenging her to deny that she had enjoyed their lovemaking. Summoning her strength, she responded lightly, 'For your unwarranted accusations about my brother-in-law earlier, yes. For making love to me, no.'

  She had a feeling that somehow she had angered him, without understanding why.

  'You and he may not yet have been lovers, but that does not alter the fact that there's something between you,' he said curtly.

  Jessica was about to tell him that she felt nothing but contempt for David, when totally unexpectedly he asked harshly, 'How long is it since you last made love?'

  Every muscle in her body screamed a danger warning. There was just enough light for her to see that Lyle was frowning, and she knew it was pointless to lie; initially at least her body had been as unprepared for the masculinity of him as that of a totally inexperienced girl.

  'Quite some time.' She didn't qualify her statement.

  'So that response I got from you was based on physical frustration, was it?'

  She wanted to scream at him that he was wrong, that she loved him, but pride and caution stopped her. Far better to let him think he was right. If she let him guess the truth she would lose him and the boys and the life she had here which she loved already. Logically she knew that it was unlikely that he would ever come to feel about her the way she did about him, but at least she would have ... what?

  'Well?'

  His curt demand cut across her thoughts.

  'I suppose it must have been.' How husky and emotional her voice sounded; the voice of someone in pain. Trying to sound flippant she added shakily, 'So now we know, frustration and anger make a pretty lethal combination.'

  To her surprise his only response was a smothered curse, her mattress depressing as he got up and pulled on his jeans, not looking at her as he picked up his shirt and headed for the door. Once there he paused, with his hand on the doorknob, his voice harsh as he told her, 'Fortunately, it's a combination we're not likely to repeat.'

  And then h
e was gone, leaving her alone to dream of how it could have been if instead of disliking her he had loved her. She wouldn't be alone now. Instead she would be wrapped in his arms, listening to his tender words of love and praise. Tears stung her eyes and she buried her head into her pillow, letting them fall.

  The next few days were purgatory. Jessica was torn between the fear that Lyle would tell her he wanted to end their marriage and the anguish brought on by the fact that he was quite obviously avoiding her. Even Stuart noticed it, commenting that his father never seemed to spend any time with them in the evenings any more.

  At least she had achieved a measure of success where the boys were concerned, Jessica consoled herself one afternoon as she worked in the garden. Both of them were much more open now; much more ready to accept Lyle as their father, and from the tiny scraps of information they had unwittingly given her, she had discovered that their withdrawal from him had been caused, not by their attachment to their mother, but by their realisation that she neither loved nor wanted them and their fear that Lyle would feel the same.

  It was something she wanted to tell Lyle and discuss with him, but she was far too afraid to approach him. She dreaded seeing him look at her with contempt and dislike, or having him think that she was using the boys as an excuse to force on him an intimacy he plainly did not want.

  In addition, nagging at her conscience and compounding her guilt was the very real fear that she could quite easily have conceived—it would be a week or more before she could know, but already she shuddered to think of Lyle's anger if she should discover that she had. There was quite simply no way he would want her to have his child, and yet knowing what she did about him, she knew he would never willingly consider an abortion, and neither was there any way she would want one, so that left her with the painful knowledge that if she was pregnant she would be inflicting upon him more worries and responsibilities, and that it was quite possible that he would allow the marriage to stand simply because of the child.