For years she’d studied novels where the heroine swooned every time the hero passed by, unable to control her passionate feelings for him. Much as she loved classical literature, it was all romantic nonsense. A person absolutely could control their feelings for another person. Or at least, that person could control the way they reacted to those feelings. Although she was sympathetic toward women who’d been mistreated by men, deep down she couldn’t understand a woman who stayed in a destructive relationship. “But I love him” was not an excuse that passed muster for her.
Love wasn’t an airy-fairy thing that could be caught like the common cold. Love started with plain, old-fashioned lust, a surge of hormones caused by a prehistoric urge to copulate and reproduce. Attraction was a physical, chemical thing—everyone knew men liked women with big breasts and shapely butts because on some subconscious level it meant they would be suitable to bear their children. And lust developed into love over time, maturing like expensive whisky, born out of trust and comfort and feeling safe and secure with your mate. A person couldn’t “fall in love”. Lust, yes. Love, no. She’d never been in love, and she had no intention of succumbing to it, either. She’d assuage her physical need and Cupid could bugger off and shoot someone else.
She looked at Toby, not overly surprised to find him studying her thoughtfully. She smiled, but he didn’t return it. A frown hovered on his brow. He was upset. Why? What had annoyed him?
“Okay.” He pushed his chair back. “I think Esther and I will make a move, if that’s all right. Are you sure about looking after Charlie, Cath?”
“Of course.” The plump, amenable Cath smiled. “Where are you off to—the cinema?”
“Yeah. One of the Bourne films.” Toby’s gaze met Esther’s. “We’re really looking forward to seeing it, aren’t we?”
Well, she could hardly contradict him now. “Mm,” she said in a non-committal voice.
He held a hand out to her. “Come on. Don’t want to miss the exciting opening scenes, eh?”
She took his hand and smiled at Cath. “Thank you for looking after Charlie. If he gives you any hassle, just call Toby’s mobile.”
“No worries. We’ll have an ice cream sundae in a minute and he can choose what toppings he wants—kids love doing that. Then he can have a bath with Jayden. That’ll keep them both amused for a while.”
“Thank you.” Esther couldn’t get rid of her shyness at the thought that these strangers were happy to look after her son. But Matt and Felix were Charlie’s uncles, and Sasha and Jayden were his cousins. They were his family. And even though they were practically strangers, blood had an odd effect on people. When she was younger, her father had taken her to the Crusaders rugby matches in Christchurch, and there had always been a kind of tribal atmosphere as they’d walked to the ground wearing the team jersey. This felt similar, the same kind of affinity with total strangers because they were your family, your kin.
Matt and Felix stood as they went to leave, and Matt came forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Sorry if we embarrassed you,” he murmured. His eyes were gentle. “We’re so used to teasing each other we forget some people don’t like it.”
Her cheeks grew warm at his sincerity. “I’m an only child,” she admitted. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all.”
“Just tell us to fuck off if we go too far.” Felix also kissed her on the cheek. “We won’t be offended.”
She laughed. “I couldn’t possibly do that. But thanks.”
Toby tugged her hand. “Come on.” He nodded to his brothers. “We’ll see you later.” He walked around the house to the front where they’d parked the car, bringing Esther with him.
She frowned at him as he unlocked the car and got in. His jaw looked knotted as if he was clenching his teeth. She opened the door, slid into the passenger seat and clipped herself in before turning to him. “What’s up?”
He glanced at her as he clipped in his seatbelt and then turned his attention back to the car, slotting in the key and starting the engine. “Nothing.” He pulled away smoothly and guided the car onto the main road toward his house.
She studied him, puzzled. It was the first time since she’d met him that he’d seemed preoccupied. Tentatively, she laid a hand on his arm. “What is it?”
He said nothing for a moment, taking the time to negotiate a junction. She rubbed his arm, thinking that if she had to guess she would have said he seemed slightly depressed.
“Come on,” she said, “you can tell me.”
He sighed and leaned his right elbow on the windowsill, his fingers brushing his lips. “Nothing deep and meaningful.”
She recognised the phrase and frowned. “Is this to do with your brothers?”
He shrugged.
Continuing to rub his arm gently, she said, “What did they say that bothered you?”
“It wasn’t what they said.” He glanced at her and then looked away.
So it was something they’d done. She thought furiously about what could possibly have upset him. He’d been fine until they’d got up to go. Then Matt and Felix had kissed her goodbye and… Oh.
Her lips began to curve. “Toby Wilkinson, are you jealous?”
He glared at her. “Of course not.”
“You are. Because they kissed me goodbye?”
He said nothing, staring moodily at the road.
“No,” she said softly. “Not just that. Because you think I like them.”
“Why wouldn’t you? They’re smarter, richer, funnier than me. Why the fuck would anyone pick me out of the three of us?” He moved away from her, and her hand fell into her lap.
She said nothing more as he drove the short distance to his house. He wasn’t just jealous, she thought. It went deeper than irritation. He was angry, and he was hurt. All his life, his brothers had mocked him, and now he thought they’d charmed the woman he’d been sure would be loyal to him because he was the father of her child. How odd that so many feelings people experienced started at the prehistoric level. Woman mine. He obviously wanted to yell it from the rooftops, but he couldn’t because they weren’t dating, and he knew he had no right to claim any possession over her.
He pulled up outside his house but left the car engine running. Without looking at her, both hands on the steering wheel, he said, “Perhaps I should take you back to Faith’s house.” He rubbed at a mark on the wheel with his thumb. “I don’t know that I’m in the mood for any Naughty Nights.”
She bit her lip. If she came on to him, would he turn her down? Could she bear the humiliation? And yet he was hurting, and she wanted to ease that hurt. More than anything, at that moment, she wanted to make him feel better.
She’d take the chance. If he turned her down again, that would be it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She unclipped her seatbelt. “I don’t want to go Faith’s house. Come inside.”
He didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on the steering wheel.
“You may not be wearing a loincloth,” she said softly, “but I seem to recall you’re my personal slave. And at the moment, you don’t seem to be doing what you’re told.”
His lips curved at that, but as he glanced across at her, she could see he was going to turn her down. “Esther…”
“Toby, if I had to choose, I’d choose you every time,” she said hurriedly. Oh God, please don’t let him turn her down. “Matt and Felix are both nice, but they’re not you. Why won’t you believe me when I tell you how special you are?”
“I’m not special,” he said, a little sadly. “I’m just me.”
“And I’m just me. You make me feel special—why can’t I do the same for you?” Tears pricked her eyelids. Why didn’t he believe her?
He stared out of the car for a moment, and then finally relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. He sighed and looked across at her. “Felix liked you,” he said.
“I get the impression Felix likes most members of the female sex.”
His lips twisted. �
��That’s probably true. But he knows we’re not an item—that you’re fair game. He won’t hesitate to make a move on you.”
Indignation made her sit up straight and frown. “Well, first, even if he did, that doesn’t mean I’d say yes. And second, I don’t actually believe he’d make a move on me right in front of you. He’s your brother, for Christ’s sake.”
“You don’t think propositioning you in a language I don’t understand counts?”
Oh… He was upset because he didn’t know what they’d talked about. That was fair.
She sighed. “He wasn’t propositioning me. What he said in Latin… He asked me how I feel about you.” It was only a little lie.
That obviously surprised him. “What did you say?”
She smiled. “I said I liked you.”
“Did you now?”
“I did.” She lifted herself up in the seat, leaned over and hovered her lips above his. “I refrained from pointing out we had an arrangement, but I think he got the general idea.”
He brought his hand up and slipped it into her hair, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he said huskily. “I’m not normally the jealous type and I know I have no right to be. But watching them talk to you, kiss you, even on the cheek… It did something to me inside.”
She understood. She’d had the same feeling when she’d wondered who he’d slept with since Fiji. Was he not normally jealous? If not, why was he jealous where she was concerned? What were they getting themselves into?
“Don’t think about it now,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his. “It’s just me and you here. And right now, you’re all I need. All I want.”
She kissed him, relieved when he responded with a heartfelt and passionate embrace. He still wanted her, still desired her. She kissed around his jaw, up to his cheekbone, touched her lips to his closed eyes and forehead, then back to his mouth.
He sighed deeply when she lifted her head, and she looked into his eyes. “Better?” she asked.
He smiled. “Yes.”
“Then why don’t we go inside? I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Ordering me about?”
“Yeah.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and said huskily, “I’m going to make you kiss me all over.” She met his gaze boldly. “And then I’m going to ask you to fuck me into next week.”
He blinked, pupils dilating. “Wow. Way to give a guy an instant erection.”
She giggled. “Come on then.”
They got out of the car, Toby rising so hurriedly he bumped his head. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the house, his fast stride making her laugh. He let them in and she threw her handbag on the table, then led him to the sofa, switching on a lamp in the corner. The light was fading outside, and the lamp made the room glow.
He glanced at the kitchen. “Don’t you want a drink?”
She shook her head, breathless with anticipation. “No. I want you.”
He moved closer to her, his hands on her hips. “I’m all yours.” He touched his lips to hers. “Tell me what you’d like me to do.”
She stepped back from him. “First, slave, I’d like you naked. Strip.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Strip?”
“Strip. Remove your clothes. Disrobe. Get your kit off.”
“I get the idea,” he said wryly. “Do I have to do it to music?”
“Great idea.” She went over to his computer, pulled up YouTube and selected a song. Then she pressed Play. Joe Cocker’s husky voice started singing ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’.”
“Jeez.” He rolled his eyes. She giggled and took a seat on the sofa in front of him.
“Come on.” She motioned with her hand. “Show me that manly body of yours.” She sat back, making herself comfortable. “I should have got some popcorn.”
With a sigh of resignation, he began to unbutton his shirt. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, enjoying every moment of the role-play. What was not to like? He had natural rhythm, and even though he’d made a show of being exasperated at her instructions, within minutes he was strutting his stuff and performing, to her delight.
Starting at the top of the shirt, he worked his way down, sliding his finger between each button. He held her gaze as he did so, moving his hips to the music, and her face began to grow warm at his sexy grin.
When he reached the bottom, he opened one side of the shirt and then closed it and opened the other, teasing her. She fanned herself, and he laughed and let the shirt fall from his back, catching it in a hand. He threw it at her, and it landed on her head. She crumpled it into a ball and buried her face in it. The warmed cloth brought out the subtle smell of his aftershave, and her pheromones stirred, yawned, stretched and looked around with interest.
“Yum,” she said, her gaze wandering over his torso. Wow, what a body.
He turned so his back was to her and continued to dance, rolling his shoulders, and she admired the way his muscles moved beneath his tanned skin, imagining them underneath her fingers, solid and warm.
“Does my lady like what she sees?” He turned back and posed.
“She’d like it even more if you got your pants off.”
“What’s the rush?” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and ran them around to his hips, then back again. “Waiting increases the anticipation.”
“Just as long as you don’t mind drowning in a sea of drool.”
He chuckled. “That’s gross, but it’s possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
She smiled and kept her nose buried in his shirt as he started to unbutton his pants. Did he have any idea how gorgeous he was? She suspected not. He carried himself with the ease of a man who worked hard to keep fit but didn’t spend every five minutes looking in a mirror. Not that she would have blamed him if he did. She could easily stare at that body all day, from the toned abs to the defined stomach muscles to the wonderful line of hair that trailed enticingly into his jeans.
He moved his fingers to the zipper and pulled it down. Then he turned his back to her again and wiggled his hips.
She groaned. “Tease.”
He stuck his thumbs in the waistband and gave her a glimpse of his boxers. Still moving to the music, he lowered the jeans and slid them down his legs.
She sighed and studied his tight butt encased beautifully in the silky fabric of his underwear. “That should be framed and put in the Auckland Art Gallery.”
He laughed and kicked off the jeans. “I feel so sorry for you. Obviously you have so little sexual experience you find the most meagre male body exciting.”
“Sweetheart,” she said, breathless with desire, “the very last thing you are is meagre. Your body is…” Her voice trailed off as he turned around and the evidence of his desire strained toward her through the boxers. “Ooh. Sublime.”
He ran a finger along his erection and raised an eyebrow. “Does it meet the lady’s requirements?”
“Um…hmm…I’ll let you know at the end of the evening.” She pointed to his underwear. “Take them off.”
First he walked over to the computer and selected an album of some slow, sexy music on iTunes and pressed Play. Then he came back to stand before her. He lifted the elastic over his erection and lowered the boxers. Giving her a taunting smile, he walked forward to stand in front of her, completely naked, hands on hips. “I’m all yours, my lady. Ready to service your needs, whatever they are.”
She licked her lips. The swollen tip was inches from her mouth. Naughtiness flooded her. He was hers for the evening—she could make him do anything she wanted. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
He didn’t look the tiniest bit shocked. Obediently, fixing his hot gaze on her, he grasped his shaft in his left hand and started to stroke himself.
She inhaled, so turned on at the sight that her mouth watered. He kept his right hand on his hip, closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he continued to ar
ouse himself. Speechless with desire, she watched for about thirty seconds before she couldn’t stand it any longer.
Pushing herself to her feet, she stood before him. “Undress me,” she commanded huskily.
He opened his eyes and went to kiss her, but she put a hand on his chest. “Undress me,” she said again, more firmly.
Eyes half-lidded with desire, he pretended to doff his cap. “Yes, ma’am.”
He stood a few inches away from her and held the bottom of her vest. She lifted her arms, and he drew the vest up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor.
The heat of his eyes burned into her naked skin like the rays of the sun.
“No bra,” he murmured. “Nice.” He lifted a hand to cup her breast, but she stopped him.
“No touching.”
His lips curved and he dropped his hand. “Yes, ma’am. Okay. You tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
She couldn’t believe she was being so bold. “Finish undressing me.”
He tugged at her skirt, and the elasticised waist expanded to slide down her hips. She held her breath as the skirt dropped with a rustle to the floor. She’d gone commando, and she would have laughed at the look on his face if she hadn’t been so turned on.
His hands twitched as if he wanted to touch her, but he remained still, instead caressing her with his gaze.
Slowly, she lowered herself back onto the sofa. “Kneel between my legs,” she instructed him.
He did so, moving forward so his hips brushed the inside of her thighs. He rested his hands on the top of her legs, but couldn’t seem to stop the instinctive brush of his thumbs against her skin. “What now, my lady?” he asked.
She fixed him with her gaze, letting all her desire show in her eyes. “Kiss me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. The tentative, playful kisses vanished—instead his red-hot embrace scorched through her, setting light to all her nerve endings. She moaned as he plunged his tongue inside her mouth and threaded her hands into his hair, holding him as they kissed. But when he placed a hand on her breast, she smacked it playfully.
Six Naughty Nights Page 17