clothes, or rather Lady Jeveson's. Perhaps they weren't as
flattering as Rosie's borrowed dress, but somehow she felt more
comfortable in them.
One thing she had done, though, and that was to discard
her bulky, unfeminine bra.
At first she had flushed with guilt, half glancing over
her shoulder almost as though she had expected Aunt Vi to materialise
behind her to chastise her for what she was doing, for her wanton
dress, her lack of morals.
There was a small bruise mark on her left breast where Kit
had bitten her, and her nipples still felt uncomfortably tender, and
yet last night, lying alone in her narrow, cold bed, when she had
closed her eyes and daringly allowed herself to remember the later,
more gentle touch of Kit's hands and mouth against her breasts, the
tiny thrill of sensation in her stomach had made her tremble with mixed
excitement and relief.
Everything was going to be all right, she was sure of it.
Today she would be able to show Kit how much she loved him.
Today…she took a deep breath…today she would do
whatever he asked of her, if only to prove to him that she had not been
lying when she had claimed to love him.
And yet she still felt nervous, ill at ease…
vulnerable. She tensed as she heard someone coming down towards the
pool. What if it wasn't Kit? What if it was someone else, a stranger,
coming unwittingly to destroy their precious time together? But when
she looked through the broken window it was Kit's tall, lithe body she
saw striding towards her. Today he was dressed in his uniform and her
heart was caught up in a jolt of sharply piercing sensation, a mingling
of pride and dread as the reality of their situation swept in on her on
an unwanted tide, reinforcing her awareness of how precious their time
together was. Kit—who knew quite well how good he looked in
his uniform, how very male it made him seem, how very much the epitome
of all that an airman ought to be.
He paused as he walked towards her, recognising in her
expression her adoration and her fear. A feeling of power, of triumph
filled him.
'Come here,' he commanded softly as he walked towards the
summer-house and then paused on its threshold.
Uncertainly, tremulously, Lizzie did as he instructed,
and, as she felt his arms go round her, she lifted her face towards his
in blind supplication of his kiss and his forgiveness for her errors of
the previous day.
'That's better,' Kit told her approvingly, savouring the
soft tremble of her mouth. 'Much better.'
As he slid his tongue between her lips, he pulled her
closer to his body, reinforcing her awareness of his arousal, his hands
moving rapidly over her back and buttocks, his own body moving urgently
against hers as he sought to impress its sexual message, its need on
her still innocent flesh.
When his hand slid up to cover her breast and discovered
that beneath her dull sensible jumper she was naked, he told her
approvingly, 'Good girl,' and then whispered thickly in her ear, 'I
ought to reward you for being so thoughtful, oughtn't I? What would you
like, sweetheart—what would you like me to do?'
Her mind registered the thickening of his voice and sent
sharp warning signals darting through her body, so that when she
squirmed in his arms it was more with apprehension than excitement, but
Kit was in no mood to be patient with her. He had lain awake far too
long last night with his body aching and his temper on edge to waste
time this morning. He wanted her and he intended to have her.
Fighting against her apprehension, Lizzie reminded herself
that this was what she wanted; that only last night she had lain in bed
and thrilled to the memory of Kit caressing her breasts as he was doing
now, first with his hands, and then with his mouth, and yet she still
cried out with pain when he savaged their tender crests with his teeth,
wanting to beg him to stop, to protest that he was hurting her, but
afraid of doing so in case she angered him, in case it proved that
there
was
something
flattering as Rosie's borrowed dress, but somehow she felt more
comfortable in them.
One thing she had done, though, and that was to discard
her bulky, unfeminine bra.
At first she had flushed with guilt, half glancing over
her shoulder almost as though she had expected Aunt Vi to materialise
behind her to chastise her for what she was doing, for her wanton
dress, her lack of morals.
There was a small bruise mark on her left breast where Kit
had bitten her, and her nipples still felt uncomfortably tender, and
yet last night, lying alone in her narrow, cold bed, when she had
closed her eyes and daringly allowed herself to remember the later,
more gentle touch of Kit's hands and mouth against her breasts, the
tiny thrill of sensation in her stomach had made her tremble with mixed
excitement and relief.
Everything was going to be all right, she was sure of it.
Today she would be able to show Kit how much she loved him.
Today…she took a deep breath…today she would do
whatever he asked of her, if only to prove to him that she had not been
lying when she had claimed to love him.
And yet she still felt nervous, ill at ease…
vulnerable. She tensed as she heard someone coming down towards the
pool. What if it wasn't Kit? What if it was someone else, a stranger,
coming unwittingly to destroy their precious time together? But when
she looked through the broken window it was Kit's tall, lithe body she
saw striding towards her. Today he was dressed in his uniform and her
heart was caught up in a jolt of sharply piercing sensation, a mingling
of pride and dread as the reality of their situation swept in on her on
an unwanted tide, reinforcing her awareness of how precious their time
together was. Kit—who knew quite well how good he looked in
his uniform, how very male it made him seem, how very much the epitome
of all that an airman ought to be.
He paused as he walked towards her, recognising in her
expression her adoration and her fear. A feeling of power, of triumph
filled him.
'Come here,' he commanded softly as he walked towards the
summer-house and then paused on its threshold.
Uncertainly, tremulously, Lizzie did as he instructed,
and, as she felt his arms go round her, she lifted her face towards his
in blind supplication of his kiss and his forgiveness for her errors of
the previous day.
'That's better,' Kit told her approvingly, savouring the
soft tremble of her mouth. 'Much better.'
As he slid his tongue between her lips, he pulled her
closer to his body, reinforcing her awareness of his arousal, his hands
moving rapidly over her back and buttocks, his own body moving urgently
against hers as he sought to impress its sexual message, its need on
her still innocent flesh.
When his hand slid up to cover her breast and discovered
that beneath her dull sensible jumper she was naked, he told her
approvingly, 'Good girl,' and then whispered thickly in her ear, 'I
ought to reward you for being so thoughtful, oughtn't I? What would you
like, sweetheart—what would you like me to do?'
Her mind registered the thickening of his voice and sent
sharp warning signals darting through her body, so that when she
squirmed in his arms it was more with apprehension than excitement, but
Kit was in no mood to be patient with her. He had lain awake far too
long last night with his body aching and his temper on edge to waste
time this morning. He wanted her and he intended to have her.
Fighting against her apprehension, Lizzie reminded herself
that this was what she wanted; that only last night she had lain in bed
and thrilled to the memory of Kit caressing her breasts as he was doing
now, first with his hands, and then with his mouth, and yet she still
cried out with pain when he savaged their tender crests with his teeth,
wanting to beg him to stop, to protest that he was hurting her, but
afraid of doing so in case she angered him, in case it proved that
there
was
something
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