Free Kelly's Man by Rosemary Carter

closeness which was more intoxicating than anything she had ever known. 'I am a virgin,' she managed.
    'Keep that one for Andrew Lang. He might believe you.' Nicholas spoke with uncompromising coldness. 'You travelled with Gary, you shared a room with him. You're no virgin, Kelly Stanwick.'
    'I shared a room with Sheila,' she whispered.
    'You don't make a good liar,' he accused harshly. 'Open the door, Kelly.'
    'No!'
    'Very well.' Roughly his arm thrust past her, pushing her a little aside, so that he could reach the knob. At the same time his arm rested against her breast. The feel of it sent a tremor through Kelly's nerve-stream. For a moment she could not breathe, could not move.
    Then the door was open. With unaccustomed politeness Nicholas waited for her to precede him into the cottage. Quite suddenly Kelly's mind cleared. With a show of outward docility and reluctance she walked slowly through the doorway, then she whirled around to close the door. She had moved very quickly, but Nicholas was even quicker. A foot was thrust through the opening, blocking the movement of the door. Still Kelly did not give up the struggle. With all her strength she pushed against the door. The struggle lasted no more than a moment, then a broad shoulder pushed the door easily back at her.
    Very deliberately he closed the door. She stood quite still, watching him, her reactions numbed, her body stiff with fright. Too late she eyed the open bedroom. If she had acted more quickly she might have made the room and locked that door. But it was obvious that Nicholas had anticipated that route of escape, for the tough wall of his body had already moved to a point where she could not get past it.
    He stepped closer to her. An unholy light gleamed in the dark eyes. The line of his jaw was long and rigid and with the hint of steel that seemed such an intrinsic part of the man. Above the formal shirt he had worn for dinner, his throat rose strong and bronzed. The cut of his expensive trousers was narrow, revealing long muscled legs. Transcending the cut and quality of his clothes was an aura of sensual virility, of power and strength and uncompromising ruthlessness.
    Kelly opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She was rendered totally speechless by the sheer primitiveness of the male figure towering so ominously above her. His eyes ravaged her face, taking in every detail of the wide green eyes, luminous and frightened, the trembling half-open lips, the little pulse beating too quickly at the base of the slender throat. Then, blatantly, insolently, they moved downwards, over the rapid rise and fall of her breasts occasioned by the unevenness of her breathing, and then further still to the gently rounded hips beneath the soft fabric of her dress.
    'Please, Nicholas ..she managed to whisper at last, in an unconscious repetition of her earlier unheeded pleading.
    'Please, Nicholas,' he mocked her. 'Please what? Are you asking me to make love to you, to show you what you've been missing in your milksop of a fianc£?'
    She was so frightened now that she could only shake her head violently. The blood was pounding in her temples, and her legs were so weak that she could hardly stand.
    There was no softness in the grey eyes that came up once more to hers. No understanding, no compassion. There was no tenderness in the hands that pulled her towards him, in the lips that closed on hers.
    Just when she needed her strength the most, her limbs were weaker than they had ever been. But she did not give up the struggle easily. Later she would remember that she had pummelled his chest hard with her fists, that she had tried to twist her head away from his, and that, failing in her efforts to do so, she had bitten him and had had the satisfaction of tasting blood.
    But with the memory came the knowledge that the struggle did not last long. For as his hands moved over her, moulding her body to his, and as the pressure of his lips increased, forcing hers open, the