Dear Mister Summers

twenty

"Look, Sir, this is really not appropriate!" she said in alarm, but he pushed her backward despite her attempt to resist until her back met the raft, his body pressing her down onto the solid bottom of the raft. His hands held her head in a vice as she fought him, twisting sideways to escape. "We can't do this."

Their eyes stared, locked in a silent duel, then he lowered to her parted lips and she was as conscious of that look as if he kissed her. She simply could not get away, his lean thigh muscles anchored her firmly beneath him, his broad shoulders pinned her down so that she could barely move. Sebastian moved his fingers, slowly sifting through the damp fronds of her long hair. She could feel the rapid pace of her heart against her breast, and in the sunny silence trapping them together, she could hear the thud of his heart above her.

Admitting defeat, she lay still, watching him. The violence seemed to have gone out of him. His hands shifted along her cheek, the fingers gentle, sensitively caressing her skin until one drew softly along the quivering line of her mouth, outlining it as if he were curious about the feel and shape of it. Her hands were tensed against the wide brown shoulders, but she made no further move to escape. The warmth of his body percolated to her own, their wet skin touching, the strong thighs and calves pressed against her legs.

She tried to find anything that she could use to reason with him, but her mind could not think of anything. All she could think was the rocking of the raft beneath her back and the slow erotic movements of Sebastian's hand across her face.

"Tian," she said, forcing the name to her lips in an effort to bring herself back from the brink of utter subjection.

"Hmm?" he murmured in response and she could tell that he was smiling by the feel of his lips on her.

"I know you're tired of hearing this but you are my boss. You're not my lover."

"Damn it," snapped Sebastian, in sudden harshness. "Why do you keep on bringing that?!"

"Because it is the truth," she whispered desperately.

"Is it?" he asked lazily, and his damnable seductive fingers slid gently over her throat, coaxing her very skin to respond to them, until he bent his head without any appearance of haste, making her wait, her heart thudding, and his lips silkily tingled over the sensitized skin he had been caressing, making her eyes close in abrupt weakness. "Am I only allowed to be one or the other? Why can't I be both? Hmm?"

* * *

Horrified by her shameful subjection, she opened her eyes again quickly. "Because I don't want you to," she lied fiercely.

"No?" There was laughter in his voice. He ran his hand over her shoulders, searching out the frail hollows between her fine bones.

"Sebastian," she said as she was growing more and more afraid of herself than of him at that moment, humiliatingly aware that she was aching to touch him as he was touching her, her palms sweating against his shoulders, shifting restlessly, possessed by a desire to move over him in a caress.

Casual lovemaking of the kind he always indulged himself in had always disgusted her. How, she asked herself bitterly, could she now be torn between a physical need which was becoming urgent and her moral principles? Ignoring her, the deft fingers traveled searchingly over her breasts, then with an incredulous leap of realization she felt him begin to loosen the laces between the small red cups.

"Oh gosh!" Her back arched in protest. Her hands dug into his chest, the nails tearing at him. He took her hands by the slender wrists and without an effort pulled them away, folding them around his neck so that her arms encircled his head. Her angry eyes stared into his, seeing the cool determined mockery in the blue eyes. She drew her arms down, but he had already freed her breasts and her own reaction defeated her.

Her eyes closed in the shock of pleasure so intense it made her dizzy. The sun burnt against her closed lids. The strong, sensitive fingers had taken possession. She felt her breasts swell passionately into the soft cup of his hand and experienced her first moment of intense sexual excitement. It seemed to run over her skin like fire, making her molten with desire. Her trembling hands clenched in on themselves as she tried to struggle out of his hypnotic hold over her.

"God, Andin. You're beautiful. So beautiful," he whispered. "You should not be ashamed of your body."

Andin tried her best to force her eyes to remain open, blinking under the sun, his head poised above her, the features powerful with triumph and arrogance.

"Look, I don't want you to touch me," she said, carrying so little conviction.

"That's not the impression I get," he said, his mouth hardening.

"Fine. Maybe I do, but I don't love you."

"Perhaps," he shrugged as his mouth loosened and a mischievous smile formed on his handsome face. "But you want me," he said softly, "as much as I want you. We have both known it for years."

Shock held her silent, then she swallowed. "You're so self-absorbed! I have never wanted you and I don't want you now!"

"I never take you for a liar so don't start becoming one, Andin," he said, untouched by her scorn. "Just admit it." Before she could tell him that there was nothing she could admit, he added, "Admit it, I could have you if I paid your price."

"Price?" Her voice rose with anger. "What price? What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Marriage. Commitment," he said coolly. "You have quaint old-fashioned notions about getting married, don't you, Andin?"

"This is a pointless discussion," she said irritably. "Let go of me, Sir, before I knee you and you will have a hard time recovering. You have been frustrating me for these past few days!"

"Is that what I've been doing?" he asked mockingly. "Frankly, my dear, you don't seem to be frustrated. In fact, I quite believe I could hear the excitement in your heartbeat." His hands trapped her face and her traitorous heart beat violently. "Stop resisting me, Andin. I want you. I want you so badly," he said suddenly, his voice thickening. "Please. For once, be honest. Be brave."

His words and husky voice were like a signal to her repressed emotions. As his mouth sought hers she met his lips with famished hunger, her hands reaching for his body in frantic movements of restless passion, experimentally finding where the strong neck met the upward lift of his head, the tense muscles of shoulder and arm, the long powerful back which curved down to his hips, his skin wet with salt under her fingertips. Everything else fled from her mind. Their lips fused endlessly, her softness yielding to the fierce demand of the cruel mouth, beyond protest, drugged by unknown sensual reactions, abject, mindless, only conscious of the erotic pressures of hands, lips, body. Their caresses grew fevered, an exchanged passion which underlined that Sebastian had spoken the truth when he had said he could have her if he wanted her.