protection.
‘Whose…?’ Damon repeated, ominous threat lacing every letter of the word.
‘J-Jason’s!’
He knew, damn him. He didn’t need to ask!
But what he didn’t know—and didn’t trouble to ask—was that the only reason Jason’s medallion had been in the bed was because the other man had been up here this afternoon—with Andrea. Never, ever with Sarah herself. Though that was the accusation that was etched savagely onto his face.
And his next words proved as much.
‘Jason’s,’ he repeated, spitting the name out as if it was poison. ‘Jason—your lover—’
‘No!’
‘No, not any more perhaps. Not since he spoiled things by playing away from home. Or, rather, at home…’
The grim humour in his tone, the glint of something demonic in his eyes threw her completely. How could he laugh ?
But then Damon looked down at the rumpled, dishevelled bed, and all trace of humour, black or otherwise, vanished in the blink of an eye.
‘How could you?’
It was low and savage, a brutal, slashing demand with danger in every word.
‘How the bloody hell could you?’
‘How could I what, Damon?’
Her lips felt so stiff and tight that they might as well have been made of wood for all the expression she could put into the cold little voice.
‘How could I do—what?’
If he truly believed what she suspected then he was goingto have to say it. If he thought that she was capable of the appalling crime that had stamped that expression onto his stunning features, then he was going to have to accuse her of it to her face. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to slide out of things later by claiming I never said that .
‘Tell me.’
‘You were actually prepared to make love to me in the bed that you normally share with your boyfriend!’ he flung at her in pure ‘you asked for it’ tones. ‘The sheets were barely cold—’
‘From his assignation with his girlfriend!’
Her stomach lurched queasily at just the thought.
‘So you thought you’d do what? Have your revenge with me in the same place that he’d betrayed you? What is it you call it? Tit for tat?’
‘No! It wasn’t anything like that!’
She felt so ill that she couldn’t control her tongue in any way, letting it run away with her totally.
‘And don’t you dare call what just happened making love! We both know it wasn’t anything like that!’
‘We certainly do.’
After the hard incisiveness of his anger, the deliberately lazy drawl was viciously insulting.
‘There was nothing of love in that. All you were after was a quick—’
A swift glance at her face had him cutting off the crude description abruptly.
‘It was lust, nothing more.’
She’d known that all along; had been under no illusion from the start. But still it hurt so very much to hear him state his lack of feeling quite so openly and bluntly.
‘But then we both knew that already.’
He had the nerve—the vicious nerve—to smile , directing the icy, humourless look straight into her clouded green eyes.
‘Of course,’ Sarah responded tightly, and he nodded his satisfaction. The smile faded, turning his mouth into a grim, hard line.
‘At least we agree on something.’
Stooping, he snatched up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. The brusque, decisive way he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, pulling the belt tightly shut over the top, put a firm, cold stop to the passion that had flared so briefly and yet so wildly between them.
Not that he needed to bother, Sarah told herself miserably. She had never felt less passionate in all her life. Shaken and shivery after the desperate assault on her senses, the sudden, brutal halt to her arousal, she was distinctly unsteady on her feet. Her legs felt weak and hollow, lacking the strength to hold her upright. But she had to stay where she was. At least until Damon left.
She would rather die than have him see just how appalling she felt. So she tried to copy him by
‘Whose…?’ Damon repeated, ominous threat lacing every letter of the word.
‘J-Jason’s!’
He knew, damn him. He didn’t need to ask!
But what he didn’t know—and didn’t trouble to ask—was that the only reason Jason’s medallion had been in the bed was because the other man had been up here this afternoon—with Andrea. Never, ever with Sarah herself. Though that was the accusation that was etched savagely onto his face.
And his next words proved as much.
‘Jason’s,’ he repeated, spitting the name out as if it was poison. ‘Jason—your lover—’
‘No!’
‘No, not any more perhaps. Not since he spoiled things by playing away from home. Or, rather, at home…’
The grim humour in his tone, the glint of something demonic in his eyes threw her completely. How could he laugh ?
But then Damon looked down at the rumpled, dishevelled bed, and all trace of humour, black or otherwise, vanished in the blink of an eye.
‘How could you?’
It was low and savage, a brutal, slashing demand with danger in every word.
‘How the bloody hell could you?’
‘How could I what, Damon?’
Her lips felt so stiff and tight that they might as well have been made of wood for all the expression she could put into the cold little voice.
‘How could I do—what?’
If he truly believed what she suspected then he was goingto have to say it. If he thought that she was capable of the appalling crime that had stamped that expression onto his stunning features, then he was going to have to accuse her of it to her face. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to slide out of things later by claiming I never said that .
‘Tell me.’
‘You were actually prepared to make love to me in the bed that you normally share with your boyfriend!’ he flung at her in pure ‘you asked for it’ tones. ‘The sheets were barely cold—’
‘From his assignation with his girlfriend!’
Her stomach lurched queasily at just the thought.
‘So you thought you’d do what? Have your revenge with me in the same place that he’d betrayed you? What is it you call it? Tit for tat?’
‘No! It wasn’t anything like that!’
She felt so ill that she couldn’t control her tongue in any way, letting it run away with her totally.
‘And don’t you dare call what just happened making love! We both know it wasn’t anything like that!’
‘We certainly do.’
After the hard incisiveness of his anger, the deliberately lazy drawl was viciously insulting.
‘There was nothing of love in that. All you were after was a quick—’
A swift glance at her face had him cutting off the crude description abruptly.
‘It was lust, nothing more.’
She’d known that all along; had been under no illusion from the start. But still it hurt so very much to hear him state his lack of feeling quite so openly and bluntly.
‘But then we both knew that already.’
He had the nerve—the vicious nerve—to smile , directing the icy, humourless look straight into her clouded green eyes.
‘Of course,’ Sarah responded tightly, and he nodded his satisfaction. The smile faded, turning his mouth into a grim, hard line.
‘At least we agree on something.’
Stooping, he snatched up his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. The brusque, decisive way he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, pulling the belt tightly shut over the top, put a firm, cold stop to the passion that had flared so briefly and yet so wildly between them.
Not that he needed to bother, Sarah told herself miserably. She had never felt less passionate in all her life. Shaken and shivery after the desperate assault on her senses, the sudden, brutal halt to her arousal, she was distinctly unsteady on her feet. Her legs felt weak and hollow, lacking the strength to hold her upright. But she had to stay where she was. At least until Damon left.
She would rather die than have him see just how appalling she felt. So she tried to copy him by
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