The Bedroom Barter by Sara Craven

naked. Forcing her to recognise that he was unashamedly aroused.
    She had raised her hands instinctively to push him away. Instead her palms encountered the naked muscularity of his chest and lingered there of their own volition, savouring the smooth heat of his skin and the harsh thud of his heartbeat.
    Ash bent his head, the blue eyes glinting down at her like sun-drenched azure, and Chellie's lips parted in a gasp of shock. She tried to say something—to find words of protest—of denial, even—but then his mouth closed on hers, warm and totally possessive, and the chance was lost—if it had ever truly existed.
    His lips were moving on hers, softly but with purpose, sending messages of deliberate sensual demand to her reeling brain. He was teasing her tongue with his, coaxing her to respond. To grant him the total access to her surprised mouth that be was seeking.
    Her head fell back and her lashes drifted down, preparing her for this initial surrender. Presaging what might follow.
    She found she was lifting her arms and winding them round his neck, pressing even closer to him, so that her breasts in their fragile covering grazed the wall of his chest.
    His kiss deepened instantly, passionately, and she tasted hunger on his mouth. Recognised it because she shared it. And because she needed so desperately for it to be assuaged.
    Ash pushed the shirt from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. His hands were stroking her skin, tracing the vulnerable line of her backbone, brushing the sensitive nerve-endings, making her sigh and quiver in mounting excitement.
    She felt him unsnap the clip that held her bikini top and slide down the straps. The flimsy cups fell away, releasing her bare breasts to the caress of his fingers.
    His touch was gentle, but very sure, circling her hardening nipples, encouraging them to some peak of sweet intensity she had never known before or even dreamed was possible. Making her glory in this new intimacy.
    Her legs were shaking under her and she leaned back, seeking the support of the stateroom door.
    The note of her breathing had changed, and her pulses were going crazy. She could feel the fiery strength of his erection against her thighs, and knew that neither of them could wait much longer.
    All she had to do was open the door behind her, she realised with a swift intake of breath—and the bed would be there waiting for them.
    And this time, her frantic body told her, consummation would be very different.
    This time.
    Suddenly, unwillingly, she was back in that first hotel room, spreadeagled across the awful bed and its creaking mattress, with Ramon on top of her, his face contorted as he drove for his own satisfaction. Ramon—hurting her and not caring. Ramon—using her without love.
    Just as Ash would do—if she allowed it.
    She heard herself make a small hoarse sound of negation. Found that she was pushing at Ash with new-found strength, struggling to free herself, the image of the photograph on his night table forcing its way into her reluctant memory. Reminding her that they were still virtual strangers and that he had a life about which she knew nothing.
    At the same time, to him she was nothing more than a body he had briefly coveted in Mama Rita's club, but not enjoyed. Or not then, at least.
    She could see now that he'd simply been—biding his time. Waiting for the moment when she would simply fall into his hand.
    Well, she owed him, and she knew it, but she could not repay the debt with sex. He would take her with more finesse than Ramon, she had no doubt of that, but his purpose would be the same—to satisfy a transient desire. And she would not allow herself to be used like that again, only to be discarded when he chose to walk away.
    Ramon had ignored her reluctance, and her protests. He'd imposed himself on her with almost casual brutality.
    Ash, however, released her at once, staring down at her, his brows snapping together. 'What's the matter?'
    She stared down at