Secret Surrender. Laura Martin

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       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘CHRISTY?’ She could see him in the half-light, propped up on one elbow, watching her with a face that expressed incredulity and anger. ‘Just where the hell do you think you’re going?’

      The hotel sheets didn’t cover much of the powerful naked torso. Christy, in the second it took her to turn her head, appraised the glistening body with its sheen of sweat, found herself picturing the frantic activity that had gone on between them, on this most humid of summer nights. ‘I…I thought you were asleep.’ She continued her scramble in the grey light for her clothes. Her blouse had been retrieved but that wasn’t enough—not if she wanted to escape the luxurious surroundings of this place without causing a riot.

      ‘You haven’t answered my question.’ His voice was steel-edged, insistent, and Christy found herself trembling deep inside.

      What on earth was she doing here? How had she ever allowed this to happen? She closed her eyes for a split-second and called herself all manner of names as she pulled her blouse frantically over her tousled, shiny blonde mane.

      ‘Christy, come back to bed! It’s past one in the morning.’ It was a strong voice. Strong and deep and commanding. Used to being obeyed, used to having its wishes followed immediately, particularly when those wishes were directed at young, attractive females who barely had a stitch on.

      But I’m not just another of his bimbos, Christy reminded herself desperately, frantically continuing her search for her clothes. I’m not! Her eyes were more used to the light now and she saw with relief a pile of clothing on the floor beside the bed. ‘This is crazy! How did I ever get myself into this situation?’ she whispered frantically. ‘I…I’ve got to go; I should never have stayed—never!’

      Since the ardour of their mutual passion had been extinguished so satisfactorily, that thought had been the only thing on her mind—that and what a fool she had made of herself. ‘I’ve got to get out of here.’ Her voice trembled noticeably as she cast her eyes towards the bed and with enormous effort she took a deep breath and added in stronger tones, ‘I should never have come here. We should never have——

      Drew leant forward then and she felt the strength of his fingers curled around her upper arm, felt tingling deep in the pit of her stomach as the heat of his breath warmed the sensitive place between her neck and her shoulder-blade, sending shivers of desire down her spine, just like before. ‘Christy, don’t be so hasty.’

      His voice had momentarily lost its edge, as if he too had fallen under the spell that had overwhelmed them so unexpectedly earlier in the evening. Her name sounded so sweet, so sensuous on his lips, beguiling her, trying to fool her all over again. And his mouth— oh, that was a sensation! How could kisses be so erotic, so tempting? Christy wondered, as her eyes began to close and her body momentarily swayed back against the strength of Drew Michaels’ powerful chest.

      ‘Don’t be foolish,’ he murmured huskily, running his mouth along the curve of her neck, sweeping her hair away with his large strong hands. ‘You can’t leave now. You know you can’t.’

      She was weakening all over again. Her resolve just seemed to melt away at the lightest of touches. She felt the sharp familiar ache of desire deep in the pit of her stomach and knew that time was running out; any more of this and she wouldn’t be able to hold on, wouldn’t be able to rescue what little pride and self-esteem she had left…

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