Rebel's Bargain by Annie West Page A

maintaining a depth of reserve masked by charm and potent sexuality.
    History had repeated itself. First her parents then her and Orsino.
    Loving and losing had almost destroyed her. She couldn’t countenance the idea of giving herself in love again.
    So if not love, what about lust? Was there sense in Orsino’s words? She couldn’t shake the insidious idea he might be right.
    Maybe she could practise what he preached, take lovers to assuage this hunger he’d reawakened. In five years she hadn’t managed to eradicate him. Could a no-holds-barred sexual relationship do what abstinence hadn’t and free her once and for all?
    Poppy showered so long the flesh on her fingers started to pucker, but no answer presented itself. Common sense and the voice of temptation raced round her head, like mice on a never-ending wheel.
    Slicking back the weight of wet hair from her face she turned off the water then leaned, palms braced, against the tiled shower wall. She’d thought to wash off Orsino’s touch and scent, but the warm spray of water had only energised her still-aroused body, making her regret the speed of what had happened downstairs. She hadn’t felt his touch on her bare skin and, tucked away in the privacy of her bathroom, she admitted the truth—that she wanted that, wanted Orsino, more than anything.
    Poppy squeezed her eyes shut, berating herself. This wouldn’t do.
    Reaching out for the shower door she instead encountered hot flesh. Bare hot flesh with a delicious smattering of crisp hair.
    Her eyes sprang open.
    ‘Orsino!’
    One look at her and Orsino knew he’d been right to come. Without time to don her touch-me-not hauteur, Poppy’s expression betrayed her. The dreamy yearning in her eyes, the ripe invitation of her parted lips, the way she swayed towards him instead of recoiling.
    Oh, yes, she wanted him as he did her. That went some way towards silencing his concerns about the immensity of his hunger for her.
    The feel of her damp palm splaying over his chest made his heart erupt in a tattoo of need.
    ‘Who else?’ His voice was unsteady as his gaze dropped to her delicious body, glowing softly from the heat of the shower. High, pert breasts that made his palms ache to hold them. Dark raspberry nipples. A long, lithe sweep of torso down to a waist that he knew fitted his hands perfectly. The purely feminine curve of hips cradling that dark russet triangle of soft hair. He swallowed convulsively, remembering the taste of her on his tongue. Slender, strong legs and narrow, sexy feet.
    ‘Here.’ He took her by the elbow, guiding her out of the shower cubicle. ‘Let me.’ He lifted the enormousbath towel he held and draped it around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
    ‘You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t invite you.’ He heard her reaching for indignation but she couldn’t quite achieve it.
    And they both knew why.
    ‘Where else would I be?’ Slowly he rubbed her shoulders through the plush towelling. ‘I want you. And you want me.’ He paused, waiting. ‘Don’t you, Poppy?’
    Her breath hitched and her dazed eyes grew heavy-lidded as his hands found her breasts through the thick towel.
    She opened her mouth but no sound emerged. He would have grinned in triumph at finally silencing her sassy tongue, but he felt like she looked, poleaxed.
    ‘It’s not
you
.’ She grabbed his hands and dragged them away. ‘As you explained so clearly, it’s just sex.’
    He watched her cheeks flush and something tightened inside. That blush of hers had fascinated him from the first. He’d assumed a woman who displayed her body in swimsuits and skimpy dresses would have lost the ability to blush. Not Poppy.
    The first time he’d stripped her naked the rosy heat in her cheeks had been adorable, and he’d actually wondered if he might be her first lover. Until she’d responded with such unabashed enthusiasm he’d realised how impossible that was.
    She cleared her throat. ‘It’s been a while for me,