Lacybourne Manor (43 page)

This, he could only assume,
meant she didn’t trust him.

Which meant he had more work to
do.

Luckily, he now
had
seven
months in which to do it. She seemed willing, with only the
mildest form of protestation (something that he found very telling)
to allow him to demand further time from her. He pinned his hope on
this.

Her refusal to discuss Royce
was a different story. How Colin could feel such searing jealousy
for a dead man, he could not fathom, but he did. She’d shared
something with Royce in her chalet and Colin damned well wanted to
know what it was.

And what Colin wanted, he found
a way to get.

He reached out and dragged her
across the bed. She made an endearing, sleepy mew in her throat but
didn’t wake. The moment she hit his warmth, she turned and curled
against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist.

This was
much
better.

Then, listening to the soft
rain against the windows for a few moments while Sibyl nestled
deeper into him, Colin fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

Colin woke again, hours later,
to an empty bed.

Instantly alert, he nearly
threw the covers back, thinking she’d crept away while he was
sleeping and determined to find her (wherever she was) and drag her
back and keep her there until they had things sorted. The way
things were, obviously, could not go on. He wouldn’t allow it. They
needed to straighten everything out between them; he didn’t need to
battle her while protecting her against whoever was out there
trying to kill her. He still took the threat seriously even though
there had been no further contact and no report of suspicious
activity from the team that was following her.

Then he saw her coming from the
bathroom wearing the green shirt he’d worn last night. His body
momentarily stilled at the sight and then he settled back into the
bed and allowed some of the tension to ease out of him. He watched
her without saying a word, deciding that he liked, very much, the
look of her in his shirt.

She was holding it together
with one hand at the front and looking about the room with what
appeared to be confusion. He watched with interest, wondering what
she was up to as she walked to one of his dressers, pulled open
first one drawer then closed it then another then she found what
she was looking for. Closing the drawer quietly with her thigh, she
shed his shirt with her back to him. Then she pulled one of the
t-shirts he used to work out in over her head. As she was quite
tall, it engulfed her in width but barely covered her rounded
bottom.

There was something profoundly
intimate about her wearing his clothes, not only wearing them but
rooting around in his dresser to find them. If any other woman had
dared to do this, he would have found it an unacceptable invasion.
With any other woman, it would have been a line not to be
crossed.

With Sibyl, he not only
accepted it, he welcomed it and decided he liked this item of his
clothing on her even better than the other.

She walked back to the bed,
clearly preoccupied. She didn’t even look at him to notice he was
watching her openly, lying on his side and up on his elbow. She
slid between the covers, close to the edge of her side and settled
with her back to him.

The instant she was settled,
Colin’s arm shot out, hooked around her waist and dragged her
(again) across the bed.

This time, awake, she
made an
angry
mew of protest and whirled mid-drag so she faced
him head on.

“You’re awake!” she cried,
accusation in her voice, as if he was trying to keep this fact from
her, which he was not.

“I thought you’d left,” he
returned.

Expressions chased across her
face from surprise to exasperation.

“I didn’t think of that,” she
muttered and he could tell she was cross with herself.

He nearly smiled at the thought
of her absentmindedness finally working in his favour.

Instead, he kept his mind
steadily on his latest task.

“Are you ready to talk this
morning?” he enquired smoothly.

Her eyes shifted to his face
and they narrowed just as her lips puckered. The room was dim with
early morning light but he could still see they were growing
emerald. Quickly.

He had long since found her
transforming eye colour a boon. She wasn’t likely ever to be able
to hide anything from him when it was written, so clearly, in her
eyes. Not to mention the fact that she was an incredibly and often
hilariously poor liar.

“No,” she answered abruptly,
everything about her showing she was definitely deep in her early
morning grouch.

It was then the idea came upon
him. A very pleasing idea. An idea that would make this morning’s
anticipated skirmish go in Colin’s favour, and, likely, be
immensely enjoyable in the process.

And Colin wasted no time
putting it in action.

One of his arms was under her
body; he wrapped it around her waist and bunched the material of
the t-shirt up in his fist so it slid slowly up her bottom. He felt
her tense as he ducked his hand under the shirt while his other arm
went around her back, pulling her even closer to his chest. Before
she could try to escape, he threw his leg over both of hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked
suspiciously, moving her legs under his thigh and he knew she was
trapped when she made an aggravated noise in the back of her
throat.

He didn’t answer as his hand
started to move on the soft skin at the small of her back,
leisurely forming figure eights on her body’s (nearly) most
sensitive area, and her head snapped back to look at him just as
her frame froze.

“Colin, what are you doing?”
she repeated.

Her voice was now slightly
desperate, definitely tinged with panic and she lifted her hands to
press them against his chest.

“Making you talk,” he answered
lazily.

“No!” she cried, realising his
intent.

“Yes,” he retorted.

She moaned, it was partially a
frustrated sound but partially something else. He felt his own body
begin to respond to the moan, not to mention her fidgeting.

Christ, but no woman had ever
had this effect on him. The sight of her, the feel of her, the
smell of her never ceased to make him nearly desperate with wanting
her.

Resolutely keeping his mind on
his aim, he dipped his hand to smooth it over her lushly curved ass
and suggested, “Let’s start where we left off last night, hmm?”

She closed her eyes, bit her
lip and pressed against him. She didn’t say a word, just shook her
head on the pillow.

“Sibyl, look at me,” he
commanded.

Her eyes flew open and they
were no longer emerald but changing swiftly to sherry.

He grinned in anticipated
triumph and went back to his figure eights.

“The fifty thousand pounds,
what did you need it for?” he asked, his voice low and, not giving
her time to answer, he brushed his lips against hers and, tasting a
hint of toothpaste, but mostly Sibyl, he felt himself start to
harden with need.

She remained silent.

“The fifty thousand?” he
prompted relentlessly.

She shifted and dipped her chin
low, nearly knocking his with her head as she did so. He could feel
she was no longer trying to escape but instead trying to control
her body’s reaction to him. He moved his other hand up under the
t-shirt and brushed his knuckles on another sensitive area he
discovered, the satiny skin beneath her breast, and he heard her
suppressed moan.

“This isn’t fair,” she
whispered to her chest, her voice breathless.

“I’ll stop when you talk to
me.”

She shook her head and he
didn’t know if she was shaking it to tell him not to stop or that
she wasn’t going to talk. Either way suited his purpose. He was
vastly enjoying this sensual torture and he moved his hand to cup
her full breast, softly brushing his thumb over a nipple and
feeling it harden in response. All the while, his hand moved
languidly and tantalisingly at the small of her back.

Her head fell back and she
licked her lips then pulled them between her teeth.

Still, she remained silent.

“Not talking?” he queried.

She shook her head stubbornly,
her hair fell into her face, sliding gorgeously down his chest and
his already stiffening body turned rock hard. He recognised then
that he wasn’t going to be able to play this game very long.
Heightening her arousal was doing the same to him.

He needed answers from her. He
needed her to trust him with those answers, and, as she writhed
against him, he felt the blood pound through his veins, quickening
his own breath and licking fire through his body. He decided he
didn’t much care how he got those answers just that he got them
soon.

Colin dropped his head, pulled
the t-shirt up to her chest and lifted her breast to receive his
mouth. The minute his lips closed around her nipple, drawing it in
gently, she made an appealing sound deep in her throat and he
smiled as desire strummed through him.

“Do you like that?” he asked
against her nipple and then blew on it, watching in fascination as
it rose and puckered, tremendously satisfied that he could illicit
the same easy reaction from her that he felt for her.

He heard her head move on the
pillow again and lifted his to watch her.

“No?” His tone was teasing.

“I’m never going to forgive
you,” she whispered, her eyes sherry and her face flushed.

“I think you will,” he
countered and then dropped his head again and pulled her nipple
into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it. Gratified when he
felt her body buck and jerk against him, he drew her nipple in
further, sucking gently, then more adamantly, demanding a further
response and she didn’t disappoint him. She arched her back,
forcing herself deeper into his mouth. This caused havoc in his own
body, her squirming against him and her mute, seductive displays of
desire. He had a pressing urge to plunge his hand between her legs
to see how ready she was for him.

When her hands slid into his
hair, holding his head to his task, he realised he was finally
getting somewhere.

He lifted his head and she made
a noise of disappointment that thrilled him in an almost primitive
way and he interrupted his game by crushing his mouth to hers. He
needed to taste her, allowed himself this moment of sheer pleasure
before carrying on with his goal. She opened her lips immediately,
inviting his tongue inside and, happily, he obliged. The kiss was
hot and wild and he pressed his hips against hers, showing her his
blatant arousal. She groaned into his mouth the moment she felt his
need and her hand slid down his back, over his ass then fluttered
around his hip to find him.

He caught it easily and shifted
it behind her back.

“Not yet,” he warned. “Not
until you talk.” This he said against her mouth, his breath was
coming fast but hers was faster. His hand at the small of her back
never ceased moving and she was, of her own accord, pressing her
body against him, pushing her hips insistently against his.

He let go of her hand and
before she knew what he was about, he lifted his leg off hers,
pulled one of hers up to hook around his waist and slid his hand
between her legs, finally touching her right where she needed
it.

The minute he did, she gasped
deliciously and his own body jerked at the sound and the evidence
of her need.

Christ, she was amazing.

Colin lost several notches on
his control.

“Talk,” he growled impatiently,
needing this to end soon so he could take care of the both of them.
He pressed his fingers against her, wanting his cock to be where
his fingers were, just as she pushed her hips against his hand.

“What… what do you want to
know?” she breathed, delightfully losing her battle.

“The fifty thousand pounds,” he
reminded her through clenched teeth, too far gone to glory in his
triumph then, needing the feel of her, Colin slid one finger inside
her. He watched her immediate reaction, her lips parting, she
pulled in her breath delicately and he nearly lost himself in the
seductive beauty of it.

Christ, he was going to come
without her even touching him.

She emitted a deep, lusty groan
and finally capitulated. “I gave it to the community centre. For…
a… a minibus.”

Not finished, he wanted it all,
so continued his torture. He slid his finger out of her silken
wetness, sensing victory and then back in again. “Why wouldn’t you
tell me?”

“I thought…” She pressed
against his hand and he took his finger away from her when she
hesitated and her half-closed eyes flew open. “Colin, I want it
back.” Her voice was throaty and her hands were moving all over
him, they felt hot, fevered and wherever they went, they sent
shafts of lust straight through him.

“You’ll get it back,” he
promised and she’d get more than that, he knew. “Finish telling
me.”

She shook her head but started
talking anyway. “I thought you’d think I was crazy. I thought, if
you knew I’d sell my body for a minibus, you’d leave me.”

That
was not what he expected to hear and it so
surprised him, he momentarily forgot his desire.

“Why would I leave you?”

Her dazed eyes found his.

“Who in their right mind sells
their body for a minibus for oldies?” she burst out breathily,
frustrated, tracing his arm to his hand to force him back to where
she wanted him but he was now more interested in what she said than
what they both wanted. She swiftly reminded him, “I told you,
Colin, and you promised. Now I want it back,” she demanded and he
pushed her on her back and loomed over her, spreading her legs with
his thigh and pressing against her.