Read Online Starting Over by Sue Moorcroft - Free Book Online Page B

kept staring. She blanked him.
    He smiled and raised his glass to her. She blanked him again.
    He made his way over. When he asked her to dance she snapped, ‘No thanks!’
    ‘Oh, come on!’ he cajoled. His eyes weren’t on her face.
    Ratty’s voice from behind Tess was calm. ‘You’ve forgotten your manners, Simeon.’
    Simeon reddened. Shuffled closer to Tess and lowered his voice. ‘Look, if I was a bit out of order that time, y’know, at the bonfire, I apologise. Blame it on the beer, shall we?’
    And he laid his hand, heavy and strong and well remembered, on her bare arm.
    Tess leapt to her feet. ‘ Don’t touch me !’ People looked around and she didn’t care. ‘Go away, stay away, don’t touch me, and be grateful I haven’t reported you to the police!’
    His flurried retreat had been fun.
    The ball was all whirling, happy, mindless, laughing fun . For ages she’d been so concerned with getting over everything, she’d hardly thought about fun. But this was Tess Riddell, dancing, dancing, having fun.
     
    Dawn edged the damask curtains, dinner jackets on chair backs and shoes with impossible heels discarded under tables among fallen napkins. And finally, the music slowed.
    Hair long since tumbled down, cheek pressed against the latest in a succession of white shirts, enjoying the feel of warm flesh through fabric, dreamily she watched Pete and Angel smooching, Pete’s face against Angel’s hair, hands cupping her buttocks through the scarlet dress. Angel opened her eyes to look directly at Tess, grinned, raised her brow in a little gesture of surprise.
    Tess couldn’t be bothered to wonder what Angel was trying to convey. She let her own eyes close, swayed within encircling arms. Nice. Light-headed. Tired. Tipsy. Nice.
     
    ‘Izzat you, Ratty? How come you’re not drunk?’ Was it really Ratty supervising his party’s retrieval of their possessions after the smoked salmon and scrambled egg breakfast with Buck’s Fizz, leading them through a sunny, misty morning onto the Survivors’ Bus? Identifying their stop, waving goodbye to Pete and Angel as they wove homeward across the Cross, steering Tess down Main Road and into Little Lane, arms linked. Was Ratty being so responsible? Amazing.
    His voice seemed surprisingly loud. ‘Key?’
    She proffered her open evening purse, swaying, eyelids drooping. She accepted his supporting arm around her.
    Through the green door, trying to walk with her head resting on his shoulder, eyes shut, hair streaming across his dinner jacket.
    ‘Upstairs?’
    She nodded, yes.
     
    Breathing the warm, boozy, perfumed scent of her closeness, he took her long, turned-up fingers decorated by chased-gold rings, towing her up the turn of the stairs. Across the landing to the bedroom.
    Slit-eyed, she accepted the support of his body, smiled dreamily when he dotted her face with tiny kisses, sighed when he stroked the twin wings of her collar bones with his thumbs. Shuddered when he kissed first the ear lobe with two hoops, then the one with two studs. The most carnal, promising, desirous kiss he’d ever experienced, soft lips, sexy tongue welcoming his, sending a thrill right up his body and down again.
    Breaking away to shut the curtains, he left her wavering with champagne and lack of sleep by the bedside.
    Spinning at the unmistakable long sound of an unfastening zip, he froze as he watched her fumble with her bra, stumble out of the pool of turquoise silk that had sunk to the carpet and kick off her shoes, sucking in his breath at the movement of lovely bare breasts. Allowing his eyes to speculate on deliciously simple, satin, stark white French knickers.
    Arousal gripped in a moment. Jacket off in a shrug, bow tie unknotted, he stepped her into his arms, groaning at the exuberant buffet of her breasts. Glorious hair streamed over his hands that barely-stroked her spine and glided up her sides to her breasts as he nuzzled his lips against her neck. Her fingers dug into