The British Bachelors Collection

‘And I—I don’t want to spend the night alone in one of your spare rooms, Drake.’

‘Then come with me,’ he husked.

Somehow, her hand held firmly in his, she found herself climbing another glass-lined staircase that led to an upper floor. Barely registering the lush oil paintings that hung here and there on the ivory-coloured walls, or the black velvet sky she glimpsed through the various windows they passed, now she was the one who felt as though she was under a spell. When they reached his bedroom she saw that it was an undoubtedly masculine retreat, with clean, uncluttered surfaces and an original restored oakwood floor without so much as a single rug covering even the smallest square of it. The only less than pristine note was the rumpled burgundy silk counterpane on the large king-size bed. It looked as though its owner had attempted to straighten it in a hurry, thought better of it, then irritably decided to just let it be.

Layla refused to entertain the idea that maybe it was rumpled because he’d spent the night in it with a lover. Such a possibility would ruin everything for her.

Briefly letting go of her hand, Drake touched his fingers to a dimmer switch on the wall next to the door and glowing lamps gently filled the room with softly intimate light. Then he closed the door behind them and, turning back, hungrily fastened his hands either side of her hips.

‘Let me love you,’ he breathed. ‘No more talking or making promises we’re afraid to keep in case they don’t work out. Just let it be you and me alone together in this room … in this bed.’

He touched his lips to hers and the seductive spell already cast became a sensual magical dream that Layla never wanted to wake up from.

The hot thrust of his tongue into her mouth ignited a trail of fire straight to her core, causing her knees to buckle helplessly and making her sag as though drunk against the hard muscular wall of his chest. His arms immediately encircled her waist to hold her upright. Then she was effortlessly lifted up and transported across the room to the rumpled bed.

The moment she was lowered down onto the silken counterpane Layla knew it was imperative to get something off her chest before they went any further. ‘I don’t know what you’ve imagined, but I’m not—I’m not very experienced at this. The last occasion when I was intimate with someone was with my boss, and that was the most horrible mistake. Since then …’ She screwed up her face. ‘Since then I haven’t even wanted to get close to a man like this.’

His grey eyes glinting with gentle amusement, Drake touched his palm to her cheek. ‘I’m not interested in your past, Layla. The only thing I’ve imagined is you and me here and now, in this bed, writing a new page to both our histories.’

‘I want that too, Drake … But, on the subject of histories, I need to ask has there—has there been anyone that’s shared your bed lately?’

The astute grey eyes that seemed to be gifted with the unsettling ability to read her thoughts glinted with ironic disbelief, and perhaps some annoyance too. Layla sensed her cheeks redden helplessly. ‘I haven’t been intimate with anyone since my ex-girlfriend, and it’s been six months since we broke up,’ he confided.

‘You didn’t live together?’

‘No. We did not.’

Easing out a relieved sigh, she ventured an apologetic smile. ‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you, but I had to know.’

‘I understand.’

The steady, deeply assessing gaze he returned let her know he did indeed understand.

‘Now that we know where we both stand, how about we go back to where we were?’

Feeling suddenly daring, and perhaps a little reckless too, Layla reached up to Drake to cup her hands round his iron jaw and pull his face down to hers. The lower half of his visage was already shaded with bristles, and they inevitably abraded her softer feminine skin as she seductively kissed him, inviting his equally seductive response. Their open-mouthed ravenous kissing quickly and inevitably built into another conflagration, and the passion and fervour that pulsed through Layla’s veins secretly frightened her—because whatever came of this hot, wild attraction of theirs she already knew this man had ruined her for anyone else …

Tearing his mouth away from hers and breathing hard, Drake put out a hand and gently pushed her so that she found herself on her back. His silvery gaze searing her like a white-hot laser, he reached down and ripped the two sides of her cotton shirt apart so that the row of tiny buttons that fastened it flew off like confetti.

‘I’ll buy you a new one,’ he murmured.

Before he could apply the same treatment to her front-fastening white lace bra, her heart thundering like a sprinter’s as he raced for the finishing line, Layla deftly released the catch herself, so that her bared breasts were suddenly exposed to the silky night air and to her would-be lover’s appreciative aroused glance.

‘My God … you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,’ he declared, gravel-voiced.

Hurriedly assisting her to dispose of her torn shirt and bra, seconds later, with his well-developed jeans-clad thighs straddling her, Drake gave her the most intimately seductive smile she’d ever experienced. Then he bent his head to capture one of her tight aching nipples in the scalding cavern of his mouth. She almost hit the roof. The pleasure-pain as his teeth caught the tender flesh and lightly bit was like a lightning strike going straight to her womb. Moving his lips, he gave the same erotic treatment to its twin and, softly whimpering, Layla drove her fingers mindlessly through the silken strands of his hair to hold him to her.

Seconds later he came up for air and sat back on his heels. His hot, slumbrous gaze was filled with unashamed erotic intent, and slowly he unbuckled his leather belt, freed the button at the top of his jeans and unzipped his fly. ‘You do the same,’ he instructed huskily, at the same time reaching into his back pocket for a foil packet that he expertly ripped open.

Her mouth drying, Layla kicked off her shoes and, with fingers that shook helplessly, unzipped her jeans. Taking hold of both sides, she momentarily lifted her bottom up off the bed so that she could push the heavy denim down over her thighs. In front of her, Drake took the opportunity to discard his own clothing and expertly sheathed his aroused manhood with the latex protection. Her blood pounded with primal need when she saw the sheer magnificence of his strong and proud male body, with toned, well-defined muscles and a flat, lean abdomen. His job might not be physically demanding, but he clearly didn’t avoid the necessity to keep himself fit and strong.

Before Layla could rid herself completely of the jeans she had pushed down her legs Drake took over the task with a definitely urgent air, and straight afterwards tugged her silk white panties over her slender hips and jettisoned them carelessly over his shoulder. Bending towards her, he claimed her lips in a crushing hot kiss that not only stole her breath but acted like a seismic eruption in her already overheated blood. He was still kissing her when she felt his hand reach down to firmly press her thighs apart and brush once, twice, three times over her sensitive feminine core. The pleasure that intimate caress instigated was so intense that, because he was still kissing her, she had to swallow the low moan that immediately threatened to surface. But when he suddenly drove himself deeply inside her in a possessive motion that bordered on the passionately rough Layla freed her lips from his to gasp her shock and pleasure out loud against his shoulder.

She wasn’t a virgin, but apart from the unfortunate encounter with her ex-boss she hadn’t had sex for a long time, and her feminine muscles were tighter than she’d imagined they would be. Consequently she felt every exquisite inch of her lover. And now, even though there was no question that Drake desired and wanted her, insecurity surfaced. She had so little experience in knowing how to please a man. What if their lovemaking didn’t live up to his expectations? What if she disappointed him?

Seconds later both those unhelpful thoughts flew instantly from her mind as he started to move faster and more rhythmically inside her and she automatically wrapped her arms round his strongly corded neck to hold on. Making love with Drake was like riding the most tumultuous exhilarating wave, Layla thought.

As the inflammatory silkily hot sensations building inside her went way beyond the point where she could control them she dug her fingernails into his hard-muscled back and cried out as wave after wave of erotic velvet heat consumed her. With a deep guttural groan, and the light lustre of perspiration standing out on his handsome forehead, Drake suddenly stilled, and she knew that he too had reached the sensual pinnacle of their impassioned union.

Her heart leapt when he didn’t immediately move away, as she’d thought he might. Instead he leant forward and, with his face just bare inches from hers—so close that she could almost count every lustrous dark eyelash that swept over his dazzling silver gaze—said, ‘You may not have a lot of experience, my angel, but when it comes to satisfying a man’s desire, trust me—you have everything that’s needed and much more besides.’ He finished this comment with a sexy boyish grin that all but stopped her heart.

‘You’re not so bad yourself.’ She smiled.

After dropping a warm and lazy kiss on her surprised mouth, he lay down with his head between her breasts and trailed his fingers gently up and down her bare arm. Revelling in his deliciously erotic male scent, and the weight of his hard, lean body pressing her firmly down into the mattress, Layla resolved to memorise every moment of this ardent union with Drake—knowing that whatever happened to her in the future she would never forget it …

The second time they made love that night it was no less passionate, but the caresses on both sides were infused with tenderness and much more considered. To Layla’s delight, Drake paid particular attention to ensuring she received just as much pleasure and satisfaction as he did—if not more—and in turn she loved the fact that her intuition and desire led her to discovering just where and how he liked to be touched. In that discovery all her doubts about knowing how to please him disappeared.

Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms in the softly illuminated lamplit room.

After waking in the middle of the night because she was in need of the bathroom, Layla quickly returned to the sumptuous dishevelled bed she had so briefly vacated and switched off the lamps on the gleaming walnut cabinets that stood either side of it. The room was plunged into a near pitch-black darkness that was punctuated by the sound of Drake’s gentle breathing. He appeared to be in the deepest of slumbers.

Pleased at the thought that their lovemaking had helped him to relax, she snuggled down beside him, gently laid her arm across his abdomen and closed her eyes.

What could have been no more than a few minutes later, she found her arm violently pushed aside with an anguished shout.

‘Drake, what is it?’ Her hand quickly fumbling for the light switch on the lamp next to her, Layla pushed up into a sitting position as once again the room was suffused with a softly diffused glow.

Hearing the laboured breathing of the man lying by her side, she saw with a start that his brow was studded with perspiration, almost as though he was sweating out a fever. When he turned his head to look at her she saw that his wide-eyed gaze was nothing less than terrified. In the depths of his haunted grey eyes she saw the pain and horror of a man who had been shown a devastating glimpse of hell and believed himself to be trapped in that realm, perhaps for ever.

Leaning towards him, she cautiously touched his shoulder, softly murmuring, ‘You must have had a nightmare … a bad dream. But it’s gone now, Drake. You’re safe and here with me. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise.’

In response, he shrugged off her hand and roughly drove his fingers through his hair. Then he sat up. After that he simply fell into a kind of stunned trance, remaining mute. His harsh breaths continued for several more seconds before eventually returning to a more regular rhythm.

Still staring straight ahead of him he spoke. And his voice sounded as if it scraped over gravel when he declared suddenly, ‘You turned out the lights.’

Tugging the silk counterpane protectively up over her breasts, Layla felt inexplicable fear wash over her like an icy river. The statement had sounded like an accusation. ‘I did it automatically … when I returned from the bathroom.’

‘I don’t sleep with the lights out … ever.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. If it makes things more comfortable for you, I can sleep in one of your guest rooms for the rest of the night, if you like?’

The scowl on his handsome face as he turned towards her was forbidding. ‘No! I don’t want that.’

Layla’s blood ran cold for a second time. ‘All right, then, I’ll—I’ll stay here with you.’

‘I’m sorry, Layla. I’m sorry if I scared you.’ He grimaced.

‘It must have been a terrible dream. Do you think that you could tell me about it?’

Although his troubled expression had started to ease a little, Drake stared at her as if once again cornered by something frighteningly threatening. ‘Please don’t ask me. It’s not something I feel ready to share and I don’t know if I ever will.’

‘This is one of those places you don’t want me to go? Is that what you’re telling me?’

He nodded and looked desolate for a moment, and although she desperately wanted to know Layla knew this wasn’t the time to enquire more deeply into why he didn’t sleep with the lights off. What he needed right now was unquestioning understanding, she decided, and maybe some consolation as well. Nightmares could disturb the strongest of characters.

Pushing aside the silk counterpane, she moved towards him, cupped his jaw, then tenderly kissed him on the mouth. It was like touching flame to dry tinder, and straight away the heat that flared between them made him haul her onto his lap so that her thighs spread over his, and the clash of lips, teeth and tongues became even more urgent and demanding.

When Drake moved his hands to her hips to position her over his already hard member, then pushed up inside her, Layla threw back her head and let loose a deep throated groan. She was still a little tender from their previous energetic coupling, but in a way this raw and elemental coming together was even more inevitable and necessary than both those occasions—because right now Drake really needed her. And for the first time in her life she discovered that she finally knew what it was to really need a man too …

As he started to move more deeply inside her his palms hungrily cupped and kneaded her breasts. Every now and then his fingers and thumbs tugged at her rigid nipples, sending fiery heat directly to her womb. With her tousled dark hair falling around her face Layla stared back into his blazing lustful glance, her heart pounding so hard it was difficult to think straight. But most of all she was struck dumb by the sheer intensity of the feelings she saw reflected in his eyes.

‘You are one seriously sexy and beautiful woman,’ he declared huskily, his breathing ragged with unashamed need and desire.

Leaving her breasts, his hands reached up to pull her face down to his. Just as their lips made contact she sensed him buck beneath her, and even as he kissed her it was with a mixture of shock and pleasure that she registered the hot liquid heat that spurted into her womb. But there was barely time to contemplate the event because in the very next moment her own climax burst upon her. Freeing her lips from his still demanding mouth and oh-so-seductive moist tongue, she let her head fall against Drake’s hard-muscled shoulder with a breathless gasp that was quickly followed by several more …

CHAPTER EIGHT

LAYLA was taking a shower and washing her hair. Having left her with one of his finest cotton shirts to replace the pretty blouse he had ripped open last night, Drake had nipped out to a local French patisserie to buy warm croissants and a pot of speciality fruit jam for them to enjoy with their morning coffee. Even as his mind teemed with provocative detailed reruns of the events of last night his body throbbed from the passionate lovemaking they had shared. He’d had little sleep, God knew, but this morning he felt on top of the world.

But as he let himself back inside the house, then made his way into the kitchen, it hit him like a steel wave crashing into his gut—how he had awoken in the suffocating dark and for chilling seconds been plunged back into the nightmare of his childhood.

Reaching for the kettle, he witnessed his hand shake slightly and cursed furiously. He still didn’t know why Layla hadn’t pressed him more for an explanation. Under the circumstances she’d had a perfect right to. What must she have thought when he’d told her that he never slept without the lights on?

He caught his breath when he remembered what she had done instead of probing him for answers. With her beautiful body moving over him, taking him to heaven instead of hell, Drake had quickly forgotten his nightmare of being locked in his bedroom in the dark and then hearing the slamming of the door that told him his father had gone out to the pub.

Even when his father had returned he’d never come up to unlock his son’s door or check if he was okay. No, Drake would be forced to stay there until he’d cried himself to sleep.

Needing to shake off the hurt that suffused him at the memory, he filled the kettle from a filtered water jug and pressed the switch for it to boil. Then he measured generous spoonsful of aromatic coffee grounds into a cafetière and arranged the warm croissants he’d bought on two patterned side plates. As he reached into the fridge for some milk, another disturbing realisation stopped him in his tracks. Instead of cursing, this one made him shut the fridge door dazedly and stand there shaking his head in wonder and disbelief.

Caught up in the vortex of uncontrollable need and lust last night, along with the fantasy that maybe Layla was the woman who really could help put an end to his nightmares and loneliness for good, if she genuinely grew to care for him, he hadn’t given a thought to using protection. And, having not had sex for a long time until her boss had so deviously seduced her by plying her with drink, he doubted very much that Layla was on the pill. In which case it was entirely possible that Drake had made her pregnant. If such an event occurred then it was the most reckless act he’d committed since he’d left his teenage years behind and become a man.

‘Hello, again … Are you making coffee, by any chance?’

Standing in the doorway with a shaft of sunlight playing upon her newly washed dark hair, wearing Drake’s too-large pristine white shirt over fitted blue jeans, his ravishing lover took his breath away. It struck him that he’d never seen a woman look more beautiful or desirable as Layla did right then.

As he moved towards her his heart skipped a beat. ‘Hi. Not only am I making coffee, but I’ve been out to buy us some croissants and fruit preserve too.’

Walking into his arms as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do, she teased, ‘You must be trying to win the Most Considerate Man of the Year award, then. Don’t worry, as far as I’m concerned you’ve already won the prize.’ Reaching up and kissing him on the mouth, she glanced up at him from beneath her lustrous dark lashes and blushed charmingly.

Drake chuckled. ‘Ain’t that the truth …? I certainly have won the prize.’ As his arms tightened a little more round her slender hourglass waist, he smiled. ‘By the way, I’m never going to wash that shirt of mine again when you give it back.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it will have the scent of your very sexy body all over it … From now on it’s elevated to being my favourite item of clothing.’

‘Well, on that rather provocative little note, I think we should sit down and partake of those delicious-looking croissants you’ve bought … of course that’s as soon as you get your act together and make the coffee, Mr Ashton,’ she added mischievously.

As she extricated herself from his arms to move towards the table he caught hold of her hand and, lifting it to his lips, reverently kissed her fingers.

‘What was that for?’

‘Do I need a reason other than that I simply felt like it?’ Feeling his heart swell with the kind of addictive warmth he couldn’t ever remember feeling before, Drake kept a hold of Layla’s hand, reluctant to let it go. ‘That’s not strictly true. I just wanted to thank you for last night … for understanding.’

It was a relief to him to know that he didn’t have to say any more than that, because staring back into her compassionate brown eyes he knew no other explanation was necessary … at least for now.

‘I hated seeing you so distressed. Whatever horrors you were dreaming about, I just wanted to try and help you forget them.’

‘Trust me …’ He grinned. ‘You did.’

As he released her hand so he could return to the counter and make the coffee Layla frowned and briefly touched his arm, indicating that she wanted to extend their little discussion. ‘Drake?’

‘What is it?’

‘Last night when we—when we made love again … we didn’t use protection.’

‘I was standing here thinking about that just before you came in.’ He rubbed his hand round his chiselled jaw and grimaced. ‘I’m usually much more careful about such things, but I’m afraid that the power of events rendered my common sense obsolete.’ As if subconsciously illustrating the fact, he moved his heated glance helplessly up and down her figure. ‘I definitely wasn’t thinking straight, that’s for sure. It’s understandable that you’ve been worrying yourself sick.’

‘What happened wasn’t just down to you, Drake.’ Shrugging a rueful shoulder, Layla nonetheless made her gaze direct as she levelled it at him. ‘You weren’t the only one who wasn’t thinking straight. But I’m going to have to find the nearest chemist when we’ve finished our breakfast, so that I can buy an emergency contraceptive pill.’

Drake didn’t know why, but a deeply unsettled feeling swept through him. If he had to analyse it he’d probably describe it as a sense of indignant protest … as if something he hadn’t even known was precious was being threatened and being taken away from him.

‘Anyway, I’ll have my breakfast and then head out and find a chemist. Do you know if there’s one nearby?’

Clenching his jaw a little, he answered soberly, ‘There is. Don’t worry. I’ll take you there.’

‘Thanks.’ Lowering her glance, she wrapped her arms protectively round her chest, as though perturbed. Then she silently made her way over to the table and sat down.

Right then Drake couldn’t find the courage to ask her why she suddenly looked so sad …

The day was surprisingly fair, and they agreed to kick off their weekend break with a visit to one of the capital’s well-known art galleries. They were running separate exhibitions by two influential British artists whose work Layla and Drake both admired and were keen to view. But as they walked slowly through the lofty wooden-floored galleries with the same reverential sense of visitors to a hushed cathedral, the morning-after pill that Layla had purchased from the chemist all but burned a guilty hole in her coat pocket.

Between them they seemed to have made an unspoken agreement not to discuss the topic again, and certainly Drake hadn’t suggested she take the contraceptive straight away. It was probably utter madness, and Layla didn’t know why she should be so hesitant in swallowing the pill with the mineral water she’d purchased. Except that if she was really honest with herself she did know why. Since last night her heart had been full of a passionate romantic longing she couldn’t seem to control, and as she walked round the gallery with her hand firmly encased in her handsome companion’s it just grew stronger and stronger.