The Stargazer by Michele Jaffe Page B

her breath as her thigh brushed against his aroused shaft, and again when his hand gently rubbed the underside of her breast. She lifted her face to his, and their eyes met and locked. What she read there during that split second filled Bianca with the longing to take Ian not only into her body, but into her soul. Then he pulled her head down, covering his lips with hers.
    As their mouths touched Ian felt a spark leap inside of him, and her kiss seared through him in a way he had never before experienced. This was something more than mere passion, this burning sensation that threatened to take over his body. In a flash he knew that this woman of molten gold emanated a heat that could melt every reserve, every barrier, every layer of self-protection he had spent the past two years creating. She had already begun to turn his world topsy-turvy, why not let her continue? All he had to do was to drink her in, open himself to her, let her work her medicinal magic on him. He would feel again, laugh again, love again…and hurt again.
    In a single abrupt motion Ian pulled his mouth away from hers and pushed her off of him onto the floor. “Go! Now.” He spoke with his head turned from her and his voice shaking with emotions he could not recognize. Stunned, less from the impact of her fall than from his horrible rejection of her, it took a moment for Bianca to react. “Go, leave me. Get out! ” he repeated, more stridently this time, as he felt her reluctance to leave. He sensed she was about to speak, but he cut her off. “If you do not leave now, without a word, I shall have you arrested tomorrow.”
    Trembling with embarrassment and rage, Bianca ran toward the door Ian had pointed out earlier. She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at the figure reclined before the fire, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw squared. Caught in the web of her own tortured feelings, she was oblivious to the pain emanating from him as she glared in his direction. “I hate you,” she said under her breath, just loud enough for Ian to hear, as she pulled the door closed.
    He remained motionless for a moment after the lock clicked into place, then spoke aloud to the empty room. “You are not the only one.”

Chapter Eight
    Bianca lay on her back in the middle of the deep-blue-velvet bed, glaring at the ceiling above her. More accurately, she was glaring through the ceiling, aiming her anger at the degrading man who had so cruelly rejected her a short while before. The bump on her head was still tender and painful, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside of her. She hugged her knees close to her chest, trying to erase the feel of his body from her breast, her thigh, her lips. A wave of embarrassed nausea washed over her as she remembered the way she had exposed herself to him, asking him to make love to her. She had been a fool to think she was anything but repulsive to him, and he had made sure she realized it. Embarrassment gave way to anger as, recalling the obvious signs of his excitement, she reasoned that he was aroused by manipulating her. He had never had any intention of making love to her; he simply wanted to toy with her, to mock her in her inexperience.
    Only the intermittent chiming of the clocks and the feeble rays of light filtering in through the heavy curtains of the chamber alerted her to the passage of time. She sighed and uncoiled her body, realizing she should probably rise and dress, but found herself completely without energy to do anything. Perhaps if she stayed in bed, hid herself all day or all month or all year, perhaps the horrible emptiness and loneliness that had wrapped itself around her emotions would recede. She could leave this place, run away and live on her own forever.
    But there was no running away, she reminded herself. Her leaving, if she could leave, would only be taken as a sure sign of her guilt by Ian. She refused to give him the pleasure of thinking he was right. She had to stay and