Free Flood Tide by Stella Whitelaw Page B

trying to shake him off. But what business is it of yours anyway?” she taunted him, her eyes flashing, hair aflame. “I'm single, a free spirit. I can do exactly what I like. ”
    “No, you can’t. While you’re here, you are in my care,” he snapped with an arrogant tilt of his head. “Come with me and don’t argue.”
    He turned and walked her firmly in the direction of the lift.
    “No, Ewart. Stop it. Don’t make me do this,” she said, struggling. “This is madness.”
    “It didn’t take you long to find someone else to buy your supper, did it? Well, I’m tired of waiting. I want my payment now.”
    He pushed her into the lift and the doors closed silently. She had never seen him look so angry.
    “I’ll pay you back, every penny. If you’ll just wait until I’m back in England…”
    “I don’t want your money,” he said harshly. “I make more money than I’ll ever need. And don’t play the little innocent. It’s you I want…you and your damned red hair.”
    He unlocked his door and propelled her inside. She stood wretchedly, hardly able to believe that Ewart could be serious. He slammed the door shut and turned the lock on the handle. He switched on a low lamp.
    The suite was elegant and luxurious but Reah saw none of it. She saw only Ewart’s blazing eyes and the powerful thrust of his shoulders as he shook off his jacket.
    “Take off your clothes,” he commanded.
    Reah froze, terror and confusion turning her to ice.
    “Take off your dress,” he said coldly. “Or do you want me to tear it off? I will, you know. Then you’ll have nothing to wear when you go back to your room. That could be very embarrassing.”
    She began to tremble. This was not Ewart, the man who had kissed her with passion and gentleness in the Cascine gardens, whose lovemaking could be so tender. Had she dreamed that romantic ride?
    Button by button, he unfastened his shirt and pulled it out of his waistband. He strolled over to her and tipped back her head.
    “Perhaps this’ll warm you up,” he said huskily.
    His mouth came down on her lips with a ruthlessness that sent shock waves reeling through her body. Her legs went weak as he pulled her against him. She tried to escape his mouth, turning and twisting, but he pursued her relentlessly, biting her soft flesh with an urgency that made her cry out.
    “You liked that, didn’t you?” he whispered. His face was in darkness, a stranger’s face.
    “No…no,” said Reah, blinking back her tears. “You’re being cruel and hateful. Please let me go. The joke’s over.”
    “Don’t tell me that you don’t want my kisses,” he said. He traced the line of her cheek with his finger, following it with kisses persuasive and caressing. She felt a warmth rising in her veins. His arms closed round her, his hands finding the soft curves of her body with an assurance and mastery that had her traitor body responding to his touch.
    “Now take your dress off,” he said again.
    She hardly knew what she was doing. She wanted him so much.
    This was her special man. She wanted to be loved by him, to belong to him. It was bewildering, the fury and the passion…none of it had any relation to her conception of love. This then was the real Ewart Morgan.
    With a small sob, she fumbled with the fastening of the dress and it fell to the floor like a moonbeam. Her hair swung across her face as she stood motionless in her lacy bra and bikini pants. He was looking at her and she could not bear it.
    Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly. He did not touch them but she could feel his breath on her soft skin. She ached with a sweet stab of longing to feel his fingers explore the valleys of love.
    He tugged lightly at the edge of the lacy bra.
    “That’s a very wanton garment,” he said. “Hardly the bra one would expect to find on a school mistress.”
    He slid his fingers to the tiny satin bow at the centre; Reah held her breath at the exquisite pleasure. His other hand went