by Lucy King
Picking up his razor, Marcus tilted his head and cut a swathe through the white cream and winced as he nicked his jaw. Dammit, he had to put a stop to these meetings. They’d been an indulgence he could ill afford and it was time to end them.
Anyway, the whole idea behind them in the first place had been to get to know each other and by now they knew plenty. Too much, in fact. Celia had told him things he didn’t want or need to know. Things that had him wondering how on earth he could ever have thought her an uptight, judgemental pain in the arse. Things that had him thinking that, on the contrary, what with her sharp wit and her spot-on insight, her warmth and her self-deprecation, she might be rather wonderful.
In return he’d found himself telling her things he’d never told anyone. Big things. Small things. Either way, a lot of things. He’d given her so many little pieces of himself over the past three weeks, in fact, that she nearly had the whole.
As much as he might have wanted to prevent it she’d got under his skin. And he could tell himself all he liked that it was merely down to the fact that he hadn’t had the chance to build up those all-important defences, but that didn’t eradicate the feeling that even if his defences had been the height of Everest she’d simply have bulldozed them down.
He didn’t know what it meant. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
What he wanted, he thought, finishing up and wiping his face clean, what he needed, was space. A bit of distance and time to get some perspective and figure out what was going on here. And then, if necessary, put a stop to it.
So after tonight that would be that. He’d tell her he needed a break, and tomorrow he’d make plans to go away.
If he still lived by the principles he’d had at eighteen—and right now he wished he did—he’d have cancelled this evening. But he knew how important this partnership deal was for her and how hard she’d worked for it. And he knew that despite her apparent confidence that it was in the bag, that she’d worked so hard it had to be hers, she was nervous about the outcome.
So they’d go for dinner as planned and he’d order a bottle of champagne just in case she wanted half a glass whatever the result, he’d be as charming as she was expecting him to be, and after that, as he’d done so many times before, he’d bid her goodnight and put her in a taxi.
And then tomorrow, in a bid to get that distance, he’d be off.
* * *
Celia stood on the pavement outside the restaurant from which she and Marcus had just emerged, her body buzzing and her pulse racing. Not with delight about getting the partnership, which, if she was being honest, didn’t come anywhere near the thrill of being out and celebrating it with him, but with the thought of what, hopefully, was coming next. Which was, with any luck, her.
Dinner had been sublime. The heavenly array of food, the seductive lighting and incredibly romantic atmosphere and above all, Marcus, who’d gone out of his way to make tonight special.
He’d ordered her a bottle of champagne and then asked for it not to be opened so she could keep it and drink it when she was back on the hard stuff. He’d told her to have whatever she wanted or everything, if that took her fancy. He’d asked her all about her meeting this afternoon, and had seemed more enthusiastic about the fact that she’d got the partnership than she was.
And now... Well, now, come hell or high water, she was going to take him home with her.
He wanted her; she knew he did. Even if they hadn’t spent the past three weeks communicating it with everything other than words, every now and then this evening she’d looked up to find him watching her, his eyes blazing with hunger and desire before the shutters snapped down and he made some comment designed to make her laugh and forget about what she’d seen.
But she couldn’t forget. Nor did she want to because she’d hungered for him for so long and she couldn’t stand the frustration any longer. She didn’t think he could either.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Marcus,’ she said, her voice husky with the desire that she couldn’t be bothered to hide any more.
He glanced at her, his jaw tight and a faint scowl on his face as he shrugged on his jacket. ‘No problem.’
‘And thank you for supper.’
‘Least I could do,’ he said, adjusting the collar and then tugging at the cuffs of his shirt beneath his jacket.
And, OK, so his mood seemed to be worsening with every second they stood on the pavement, which wasn’t particularly encouraging, but what the hell? He could always say no. She’d been thinking about this for what felt like for ever and she had to give it her best shot because she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t.
‘Marcus,’ she said, her heart thundering and her mouth dry as she inched towards him.
‘What?’ he said, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his trousers and looking down at her unsmilingly in the darkness.
She stepped closer and fought the temptation to sway slightly as her body responded to the magnetism he exuded, and then took a deep breath. ‘Will you come home with me?’
* * *
Marcus wanted nothing more than to go home with her. And nothing less.
Tonight had been agony. Celia had sparkled from the moment she’d sat down at the table where he’d been waiting for her, and he’d known practically right then and there that he was doomed. That it was going to take every drop of his control to put her in a taxi alone at the end of the night.
But he’d got through it. And had thought he’d succeeded.
But dammit, he should have known that Celia would suggest something like this. He’d seen the desire in her eyes all evening, not banked as his was, but alive and burning and so very tempting.
He should have realised that excitement and the high of success would spill over into recklessness. He should have been prepared. Even better he should have cancelled in the first place, he thought grimly, mentally cursing every principle he possessed.
But as he hadn’t, right now he just had to be stronger, more resolute and more ruthless than he’d ever been before. For both their sakes.
‘Stop it, Celia,’ he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper with the effort of holding onto his control and not grabbing the next taxi that passed, bundling her in and clambering in after her.
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
She tilted her head and her hair rippled, gleaming in the light of the street lamp, and he fought back the urge to reach out and wrap a chunk of it round his fingers. ‘I thought I did,’ she said softly, ‘but now I’m not so sure.’
Then he’d make her sure. ‘It would screw everything up.’
‘Isn’t everything pretty much screwed up anyway?’
His jaw tightened. ‘And you want to make it worse?’
‘I want to make it better.’
No. He was going to make it better. ‘I’m going away.’
She stared at him, wide-eyed and momentarily speechless. ‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere.’
Her eyes filled with understanding. ‘I see. When?’
He’d have gone now if he had a plan, which he didn’t because right now he wanted her so badly he could barely think. Which was bad. Really bad. ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Then we still have tonight.’
‘We’d be mad to even consider it.’
‘You want it as much as I do.’
Of course he did. He was as hard as rock and had been since for ever, but even though his self-control was stretched more than it had ever been it was still holding firm. ‘So what?’
‘This has been brewing for weeks.’
‘I know.’
‘What’s the point of resisting it any more?’
‘There are a billion points.’ Although he was damned if he could remember any of them.
&nb
sp; ‘I’m tired of it, Marcus. And I know you are too.’
‘I’ve never stayed on friendly terms with any of my exes,’ he muttered, and then wondered what the hell that had to do with anything, because he wasn’t seriously considering this, was he? God. No. He couldn’t be...
‘Nor have I,’ she said. ‘But one night does not an ex make.’
‘What does it make?’ he said, his head swimming as much with confusion as desire.
‘I don’t know. Heaven?’
Heaven sounded good. So good... ‘And then?’
‘Who knows?’ she said with a small smile that just about undid him. ‘But what if you were right?’
‘About what?’ he said, his voice sounding as if it came from a million miles away.
‘Maybe we should try and get it out of our systems.’
‘No,’ he said, but the denial was weak. ‘You’re not thinking straight.’
‘Actually, I’ve never been thinking straighter. Avoiding it doesn’t seem to be working, does it? So what other choice do we have but to confront it? Because it’s not going to go away.’
‘It has to.’
‘What if it doesn’t?’
If it didn’t they’d have a lifetime of it, tearing them up inside.
At the thought of that Marcus went dizzy, his heart hammering and his stomach churning. A lifetime of this? How would he stand it?
Especially when he didn’t even have to.
Collapsing under so much pressure, so much need, Marcus felt what was left of his self-control disintegrate. He’d clung on for as long as he could and he knew it was the worst idea in the world to take Celia up on her suggestion but he was only a man. He had his limits like everyone else and she was pushing him way past his.
He’d tried to resist, so hard, he had for months, but the pleading in her voice, the hunger in her eyes, the sense she was making when it was everything he wanted had chipped his resolve right away. He was a man at the end of his tether, and, really, she was right. What was one night?
‘Whatever happens after,’ she said, stepping closer, putting her hands on his chest and splaying her fingers, her proximity scrambling his head even more and making him feel quite weak, ‘I know what I want, Marcus, and I know what I’m doing.’
‘Do you?’ he grated as the last of his resistance shattered and he gave in, body and soul. ‘Really? Because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.’
And with that, he pulled her into his arms, one round her waist and the other at the back of her head, and crashed his mouth down on hers.
Her hands slid up his chest, burning a trail he could feel right down to his toes. She wound them round his neck and locked them there as she pressed against him.
She moaned and he pulled her tighter and it was as if someone had thrown a match on a tinderbox. Heat surged between them. Fire ran through his veins. His heart thundered and desire surged through his blood, thick and drugging and nearly making him forget where they were.
But not quite.
He pulled back, breathing harshly, and she whimpered.
‘Don’t stop,’ she mumbled, pulling his head down and kissing him again.
‘We have to,’ he said, somehow finding the strength of will to unwind her arms from around his neck and peel himself away.
‘No,’ she protested. ‘Why? Surely you’re not going to turn all scrupulous on me now.’
‘God, no,’ he said, thinking he was too far beyond the point of return to come up with all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this.
‘Then why?’
‘Because for one thing,’ he said, taking her arm and scouring the street, ‘if we don’t we’ll be arrested for indecency, and for another we need to find a taxi.’
THIRTEEN
The journey to Celia’s flat passed by in a bit of a blur, although not because they were going particularly fast.
In fact, after that first frantic kiss on the pavement during which she’d nearly gone up in flames with longing and relief because his strength of will was such a powerful force that for a moment she’d doubted her ability to break it, she and Marcus were now going achingly slowly.
The minute he’d slammed the door behind them and the driver had pulled away from the kerb, he’d slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She’d leaned into him and lifted her hand to the back of his neck, and their mouths had met and they stayed like that, necking like teenagers as they crossed London, sharing long, slow, drugging kisses that blew her mind and obliterated her control.
At one point, she tried to straddle him, desperate for the feel and the friction of his hardness against the place where she needed it most. She didn’t get very far, though. She’d just slid her leg over his and Marcus had just clamped his hand to her thigh to help her climb onto his lap, when a not so discreet cough from the taxi driver had them stopping in their tracks and sticking to kissing.
She was so dizzy with desire and desperation, so out of her mind with need, she barely noticed the taxi coming to a stop outside her building. When Marcus peeled away, her brain was too frazzled to be able to work out why until her head cleared enough to see that he’d got out and was thrusting a couple of notes through the window and muttering something about there being no need for change.
How she managed to get her key in the lock when her hands were so shaky she didn’t know. And as for climbing all the stairs to her flat, well, since her limbs had turned to water she must have floated. Either that or Marcus had somehow carried her up as they carried on kissing.
But eventually, still entwined but now grappling at clothing, they made it through her front door, and she slapped at the light switch before they stumbled into her sitting room and tumbled down onto the sofa.
Marcus landed first. Celia followed, straddling him the way she’d wanted to in the taxi. She shed her jacket and her shirt while he shrugged off his and then his hands were around her back unhooking her bra.
Shivering, although not with cold, she put her hands on his chest, finally finding out what he felt like, and he inhaled sharply, tensing beneath her touch. She splayed her fingers, slid her hands over the sprinkling of coarse hair, the hot skin over tight muscle and then the thundering of his heart and she thought it couldn’t be hammering nearly as hard or as fast as hers.
Especially not when he moved his hands down round her waist and up to cup her breasts. Heavier, thanks to the pregnancy, and...oh, Lord, supersensitive. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and as sparks showered through her she groaned and arched her back in an instinctive attempt to increase the pressure.
In response Marcus nudged her back and then bent his head, and as he closed his mouth over her breast, his tongue flicking back and forth, Celia yelped and nearly came right then and there.
She’d never known anything like it, she thought dazedly, staggered at the sensations coursing through her. She’d had sex. Good sex. And not just with him. But this... This was something else. She felt as if every nerve ending were tingling. As if every muscle were tightening and every cell were bracing itself for heaven.
Was it just her hormones or was it him?
Did she care?
Not really. All she cared about was doing this. Right now.
She thrust her fingers in his hair and brought his head up. Captured his mouth with hers and ground herself against him as he was grinding himself against her.
Enough. She couldn’t take it any more.
And clearly neither could Marcus because he was lifting her onto her knees and shoving his jeans and shorts down. A second later he was running his hands up her stockinged thighs, brushing over the nubs of her suspender belt and groaning, and pushing her skirt up and ripping first one side of her knickers and then the other.
‘You have something against knickers
?’ she mumbled against his mouth.
He choked out a laugh. ‘Only yours.’
‘They were expensive.’
‘I’ll buy you more.’
And then he slid a couple of fingers inside her and she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. All she could do was bite her lip to stop herself from crying out, and try to cling onto some kind of control.
‘God, you feel good,’ he muttered.
‘So do you,’ she moaned. ‘I need you, Marcus. Inside me. Now.’
It must have been the sob that accompanied the ‘now’ that told him of her desperation because within a second he’d slipped his fingers out of her, took himself in one hand and held her hip with the other, and whether she thrust down or he thrust up, she didn’t know. All she knew was that just when she couldn’t bear it any longer he was lodged deep inside her, filling her and stretching her and she was losing her mind with the pleasure spearing through her.
‘Don’t you think this was the best idea ever?’ she panted as he began to move and she with him.
‘Not able to think,’ he muttered, one hand clutching at her hip and the other clamped to the back of her neck.
And then nor was she because he was slowly pulling out of her and then driving into her over and over again, and she could feel the tangle of feeling swelling inside her, her head spinning faster and faster until she erupted, crying out his name as she came and then again when, a second later, he exploded deep inside her.
She collapsed against him, stars flashing behind her eyelids and her body weak and trembling, the rasp of his breathing the only thing she could hear.
‘So,’ she said dazedly once she’d got her breath back and her heart rate had subsided. ‘Would you say it’s out of your system now?’
Marcus laughed raggedly and shook his head before resting his forehead against hers. ‘Celia, sweetheart, it’s not even looking for the exit.’