He had no intention of stopping. His body levered itself over hers and pressed down, letting her feel the hardness of him intimately. His knee moved between her legs as he fed on her breast, almost drunk with her response, with the sweetness of her skin under his lips.
She knew that she should stop him. It was just that it felt so good, so right! The warm brandy had her so relaxed that her mind had gone soft. She was crazy about Ren. And surely it was more than just desire on his part. It had to be. He cared about her, of course he did. It would be all right. She could let him go this far, just this far. It would have killed her to make him stop, when she was so rapt with pleasure that she thought her body might explode.
“Are you on the pill, or do I need to use something?” he asked huskily as his mouth worked its way down her body to her soft belly.
“The pill?” she gasped.
“I don’t want to make you pregnant,” he said easily.
This wasn’t what she’d expected. She forced her body to lie still as she fought to get her dulled brain to work. She pushed at his chest gently. It was bare. When had his shirt come off? She didn’t realize her hands were buried in the thick hair that covered the hard muscles.
“Pregnant,” she chanted.
He lifted his head and looked at the creamy beauty of her body. “Pregnant.” He cocked his head and looked at her with what she dimly recognized as cynicism. “Oh, come on, Meredith, you’re Randall’s woman. He told me you were. He likes his women hot and experienced. It’s all right. He doesn’t mind sharing. It wouldn’t be the first time,” he added with faint sarcasm, and he looked down at her as if she were someone he’d bought for the night.
Merrie suddenly felt cold and sick and ashamed. The physical delight she’d been feeling left as if she’d never felt it. She tugged at her dress and pulled it over her bare breasts. “Please let me up,” she said in a tone choked with shame.
“Let you up?” he exclaimed. “For God’s sake, you come in here with me, get me hotter than a chili pepper, and now you want to stop?”
She looked at him with sad, dull eyes. “I’m not Randall’s woman, Ren,” she said miserably. “I’m his friend. Just his friend. I’ve never...” She swallowed and averted her gaze. “I’ve never done this with anyone.”
“Pull the other one, lady,” he said angrily. He got to his feet, raging with unsatisfied desire. “You weren’t resisting very much.”
She sat up. She felt dirty. She got to her feet and fumbled the frogs on her dress closed, enough to make her decent. She started toward the door.
Ren was furious. He wanted to hit something. “Is it money?” he asked harshly. “You can have anything you want. More dresses like that one, more coats like the ones I paid for.”
She winced. He didn’t know that she’d paid for them. She might have told him, but she was too sick. The brandy had gone to her head. She loved Ren. She’d thought he cared for her, too. But he thought she was Randall’s woman, and that made her fair game for an affair. Angie had also been Randall’s woman, she recalled. Ren was used to Randall’s women coming on to him, apparently, and he thought Merrie was just another in a long line of brief conquests. He didn’t want forever. He just needed a woman for the night. Nothing had ever hurt so much.
“I’m going to bed,” she said in a fog of misery.
“You might as well,” he said harshly. “I’ve had too many of Randall’s castoffs as it is. You turn my stomach.”
She closed her eyes and winced, but she didn’t let him see her do it. “I’m sorry,” she choked.
“Get out of my sight!”
She didn’t realize that it was frustrated desire talking. He hadn’t had a woman in months, and his poor, starving body was trying to cope with the loss. He turned away and went toward his study.
Merrie ran upstairs into her room and locked the door. She threw off the red dress and everything under it, threw all of it in the wastebasket. She grabbed some clean clothes and went into the bathroom to shower off the scent of Ren. She knew she’d never be able to face him again, after what had happened.
When she put on clean jeans and a sweatshirt, and boots, she packed a few things in a backpack. She put on her warmest coat and waited until she heard Ren go past her room to bed.
He stopped at her door, feeling betrayed and angry. But he couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mouth. She was like honey. He’d gotten used to having her around. He liked being with her. He loved the person she was. He was sorry that he’d treated her in such a manner. She couldn’t help what she was. Maybe she’d loved Randall, and that was why she’d been his woman. He could overlook that. He could overlook anything, if it meant not losing her. He hated hurting her feelings like that. He stood at her door, trying to find the right words to undo the hurt he’d caused. But he couldn’t find them. A neat whiskey on top of the brandy had fuddled his brain.
He went down the hall, reluctantly. He could apologize in the morning. Maybe he could smooth things over. She was under enough stress with a killer stalking her. Now she had Ren’s unkindness to add to the mix. He was genuinely sorry.