Interview with the Daredevil

by Nicola Marsh

  Not entirely fair, as Ava had more strength in her little finger than Estelle had in her entire passive-aggressive body, but fresh from another emotionally draining bout with his moody mother left him with little impetus to fall headlong into another potentially fragile situation, even if it was for only a night.

  Ava practically bounced along beside him as they traversed the long corridor to her room, oblivious to his dilemma.

  For that was what he was facing: lose himself for a night in a wild, passionate encounter guaranteed to refresh or give the woman beside him another reason to doubt herself if he ditched her at her door.

  She’d do it too, probably rehash their pool encounter at length and come to the erroneous conclusion that she’d said or done something wrong to drive him away.

  He’d hate that, for he could see she’d already had the life squished out of her. Being a prime minister’s daughter would’ve been hell, not to mention a politician’s wife, and the fact she’d gathered enough courage to invite him back to her room for a one-night stand spoke volumes.

  A month out of a divorce, she needed to test the freedom waters. It had nothing to do with getting laid and everything to do with asserting a femininity he’d hazard a guess had been battered.

  He’d seen mates go through divorces and one word summed them up. Ugly. How much harder had it been for Ava, with the added pressure of her family name?

  The right thing to do would be to walk her to her door, kiss her goodnight and wish her a happy life. The last thing she needed was a guy who made an art out of escapism, who’d outrun an Olympian at the first sign of anything deeper than casual.

  And Ava needed deeper. She needed a good guy to nurse her through this tender period, a guy to build her confidence, a guy to be there for her.

  He sure as hell wasn’t that guy.

  He’d make sure she made it safely back to her room, try to assure her he’d had a fun evening and make a run for it.

  Decision made, he risked a sideways glance at her, his gut instantly tightening and making a mockery of his resolution.

  Water droplets clung to the strands of hair framing her glowing face, her skin still dewy and damp from their pool encounter. Her body was completely covered in the hotel’s voluminous robe but he could remember every intriguing detail: the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips, her smooth caramel-toned legs, her breasts…

  The tension within him coiled tighter, strangling his resolve to leave her and walk away. He knew what he had to do. Shame his libido wasn’t with the programme yet.

  ‘Almost there.’

  A barely detectable tremor underscored her husky tone and in that second his intention to leave her alone took a serious hit.

  Her susceptibility was the one thing driving him away yet that audible hint of vulnerability had him wanting to hold her close all night.

  He wasn’t usually a sucker for a damsel in distress—discounting Estelle, who’d worked out he was an easy target for a single mother and who never let him forget that fact every day of his life.

  Nope, he usually went for confident, showy women. Women proud of their assets, who knew how to use them. Women like him. Nothing wrong with grabbing the spotlight and staying there, something he’d perfected out of necessity.

  So why was he so hung up over a naive divorcee primed to test her newfound independence?

  ‘Here we are.’

  With her back to the door, she gazed at him with a gut-punching mix of wary optimism and expected rejection. The rejection hit him hardest, as if she’d expected him to walk away all along.

  ‘You sure—’

  Her fingertips pressed against his lips, effectively silencing him, and when her hand trailed slowly downwards, her palm coming to rest over his heart, he knew he couldn’t do it.

  Walking away would be like kicking a defenceless puppy. Not that he pitied her, far from it. He admired her pluck in a world that must be topsy-turvy for her right about now.

  Women reeling from divorces might want to assert their independence but often didn’t follow through so the fact they’d got this far notched up his admiration further.

  When her palm slid lower, lingered on his upper abs, her fingers tentatively exploring, he didn’t pity her or admire her, he just plain wanted her and taking a step closer, their bodies barely touching, he knew that whatever happened when they stepped through that door, he wanted to make this night memorable for her.

  When Ava had headed for a late-night swim she hadn’t expected to bring back a visitor to her room so when she slid the key card into the slot and opened the door to her room, she baulked.

  ‘Problem?’

  Yeah, there was a problem.

  She’d never done this before.

  Inviting a guy she’d just met back to her room for sex? So far out of the realms of reality to be ludicrous. Except for the fact she had an incredibly hot, amazingly gorgeous guy hovering behind her, waiting for them to take their flirtation all the way.

  Was she nervous? Hell yeah, but anticipation far outweighed her nerves.

  A moment ago, she’d thought Roman would kiss her goodnight and walk away. He’d had that look, the look of a guy wanting to do the right thing.

  She never should’ve blurted that stuff about being recently divorced; for all she knew, this was a pity lay.

  Would it matter? Considering how Roman had made her feel the last hour, probably not. She wanted to explore the attraction between them, wanted to see if the excitement making her nerves buzz and her muscles clench could carry over into the best sex of her life.

  Staying in this hotel had been all about a fresh start and what better way to kick-start her new life than with an unforgettable night with a guy who made her insides quiver with a single look?

  A delicious shiver ran through her as Roman nuzzled her ear, his arms sliding around her waist from behind, pulling her close to reveal evidence of how he could make all her problems vanish over the next few hours.

  ‘The place is a mess,’ she said, tilting her head back to look at him.

  ‘I’m not here to check out the place.’

  His mouth crushed hers in a breath-stealing kiss to prove it and her last-minute doubts faded into oblivion.

  When he finally gave her a chance to breathe again, she said, ‘Right, now we’ve cleared that up, come on in.’

  Laughing, they tumbled through the door and as it slammed shut they reached for each other, oblivious to the mess, oblivious to everything but satisfying the hunger that had started with an unexpected kiss.

  Ava wanted to tear off his robe, push him against the nearest wall and jump him.

  She settled for tugging on his robe sash so hard he slammed against her and she staggered slightly, getting her wish reversed when her back hit the wall.

  ‘Uh…it’s been a while for me,’ she said, feeling the need to explain her desperate behaviour.

  In response he captured her face between his hands and kissed her, long, hot, open-mouthed kisses that made further explanations unnecessary.

  Her knees would’ve buckled if he hadn’t pressed his body to hers, holding her upright with every delicious, hard plane.

  As his tongue danced with hers she strummed his shoulders, his back, revelling in the defined muscles, the lean sinews.

  When her hands moved lower, exploring the contours of one very fine ass, he moaned, pressing his pelvis into hers, making her crumple just that little bit more.

  ‘You’re driving me wild,’ he murmured against the side of her mouth and she groped him, unable to keep the smug grin off her face.

  She’d never driven any guy wild in her entire life and to think a guy like Roman, who’d probably had enough adrenalin rushes to keep him high for life, found her exciting enough to drive him wild…well, it was the best aphrodisiac ever.

  ‘You think this is funny?’

  ‘I think this is fantastic,’ she said, her fingertips toying with the waist of his wet board shorts.

 
The corner of his mouth kicked up along with an eyebrow.

  ‘Then why the grin?’

  ‘Because I’m happier than I’ve been in a while.’

  The truth spilled out and as surprise lit his eyes she wished she could take it back.

  This wasn’t the time for stark reality.

  This was a time to forget the past; to live in the future.

  Before he could ask any more questions or she could blurt out any more mood-killers, she wrapped a leg around him, surprised when he murmured, ‘Me too,’ in her ear.

  Before she could ponder why a rich, gorgeous, adventurous guy like him would be anything other than happy he systematically ravaged her, starting at the top and working his way down.

  He ripped off her robe and her nipples instantly hardened as he stared at her breasts through the wet Lycra.

  Her simple navy one-piece was conservative by swimsuit standards these days but the way Roman devoured her with his eyes made her feel as if she wore the skimpiest, sexiest swimsuit ever.

  Not that she was wearing it for long.

  Hooking his thumbs under the straps, he peeled them down.

  Slowly.

  Revealing one breast first, then another, his hungry stare making her skin pebble.

  She sucked in a breath as he continued stripping her, kneeling in front of her as he tugged the swimsuit lower…and lower…his breath fanning her belly.

  Lower still and she stiffened as the swimsuit snagged on her butt. Using his hands, he slid them under the Lycra and eased it over and down her legs, baring her to him and she shivered, more from the intensity and hunger in his stare than the air-conditioned chill in the air.

  ‘Jeez,’ he murmured, his hands stroking her ankles, her calves, the backs of her knees, lingering on the insides of her thighs and gently nudging her apart.

  She watched him, so turned on she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, for wanting him to touch the part of her throbbing for him.

  Second after torturous second passed before his head eased forward and his mouth finally touched her where she yearned to be touched.

  Her pelvis arched as his tongue flicked her, once, twice and she whimpered, the tension within her spiralling out of control too soon, too fast.

  But she was powerless to stop it and as he spread her further, his tongue lapping at her, she came apart on a drawn-out scream.

  Senseless, boneless, she would’ve slid down the wall if his strong hands hadn’t braced her waist and as he kissed his way upwards, his tongue tracing a slow, scorching path towards her breasts, her need for him increased.

  ‘That was…ooh…’

  His mouth clamped around a nipple, sucking it while his hand kneaded her other breast, and the tension started again, coiling, tightening.

  She wanted to say that was spectacular, sensational, stupendous, and a whole host of other totally inadequate adjectives. But he didn’t give her time to think.

  Before shrugging off his robe he pulled his wallet out of the pocket, snaffled a foil packet, stripped off his board shorts as if it were the most natural thing in the world and made quick work of a condom.

  While she struggled to breathe as she watched the entire time.

  Time slowed as she watched him roll the condom over his arousal, thick and long, and she clenched her hands to stop from reaching out and finishing the job for him.

  When she finally wrenched her gaze away, she sucked in a breath, for he was looking at her the same way: wide-eyed, dazed and ravenous.

  Needing him inside her, now, she opened her arms to him and he didn’t need to be asked twice.

  His hands splayed her waist as he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him.

  He nudged her entrance and she moaned as he slid in, inch by exquisite inch, until he filled her.

  His mouth claimed hers as he started to move, gliding in and out, trying to keep it slow.

  But she didn’t want slow. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted the type of sex she’d never had.

  Her pelvis took on a life of its own as she bucked against him, urging him on and he obliged, pumping into her until she was mindless, clawing to the edge of another monumental orgasm before falling over the other side in a blaze of heat and glory.

  He came a second later, thrusting up so high she almost passed out with pleasure and as they clung to each other, sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the lamplight, she couldn’t help but wish she’d been this adventurous a long time ago.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AVA had no idea about morning-after etiquette. How could she, when the only guy she’d ever slept with had been Leon and they’d been dating for ever before they’d finally had sex?

  There’d been no awkward mulling over what to say or when to leave or how to extricate herself gracefully from the situation then, for they’d practically been engaged anyway. They’d known each other so long, as family friends first, later as a couple, that sleeping together had been no big deal.

  Unlike now.

  Roman slid into his hotel bathrobe and belted it, looking as delectably sexy as he did without it.

  His hair spiked every which way, he had some serious stubble going on and the faintest dark circles under his eyes indicating he hadn’t slept much.

  Snap, neither had she.

  She wasn’t complaining.

  Trying not to cower under the sheets like the one-night-stand novice she was, she scooted up the bed, semi-sitting as he stalked towards her, aiming for post-coital cool when in fact she probably had bed hair and morning breath.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it, a grand romantic gesture that merely added to the surrealism of their encounter.

  ‘I have to go. Meeting.’

  ‘No worries, I’ve got stuff to do too.’

  And if she didn’t get him out of here so she could shower and get her head screwed on right she’d make a mess of this.

  Roman had been a lovely distraction, an incredible, mind-blowing distraction, but she needed to refocus on getting the rest of her life back on track and the faster they made a clean break, the better.

  Gently extricating her hand out of his, she touched his cheek, the stubble rasping deliciously against her fingertips.

  ‘Last night was…’

  What? The most exciting night of her life? The best sex she’d ever had? The most spontaneous, adventurous, outrageous thing she’d ever done?

  She wanted to thank him, to explain what last night had meant to her—shedding her old life, welcoming her new—but one glance at his face and she knew she couldn’t say any of those things.

  For Roman had reverted to the suave charmer she’d first met last night, the guy whose lips quirked as if he found everything amusing, the guy whose eyes crinkled in the corners from laughing a lot, the guy who lived life on the edge and wouldn’t understand how monumental last night had been to a staid, regular girl like her.

  Smiling, he cradled her face in his hands. ‘I think this sums up what last night was.’

  His kiss was slow, sensual and steeped in eroticism. A kiss to remind her of what they’d shared; a kiss to ensure she’d never forget.

  When their lips eased apart all too soon her fingers convulsed against the sheets to stop from reaching out and hauling him back for more.

  ‘Thanks, Roman.’

  The second the words popped out she felt stupid. Did you thank a guy for sex? For the hottest night of your life? She had no idea of rules in this situation and for a girl who’d followed protocols her entire life she didn’t like this floundering.

  ‘My pleasure.’

  He touched her shoulder once before standing, the few centimetres separating them feeling like an ocean already.

  Last night had been about sex.

  Last night had been about sizzle.

  Then why the crazy, irrational ache in her chest as she watched him stroll towards the door? For a moment she wanted to run after him, grab hold of that robe a
nd rip it off as she had last night.

  Biting her bottom lip to stop from saying anything else, she pasted a bright smile on her face as he stopped at the door and turned back.

  ‘If you have any free time, I’m staying another day.’

  Unsure whether he wanted to see her again or was reverting to type with the flirtation, she managed a mute nod and some stupid half-salute as he let himself out.

  The minute the door closed, she slumped down the bed and flung her forearm over her eyes.

  Maybe that would block out the stupid voice in her head, the one that insisted she had the guts to discover his room number and ring him before he left.

  Ludicrous, as one-night stands were just that: one night.

  But in the time it took to reject the idea as ridiculous, frivolous and totally unreal, she had envisioned herself having dinner, a midnight swim and possibly a whole lot more with the guy who had rocked her world.

  Roman glanced at his watch as he entered the Michelin-starred restaurant on the hotel’s ground floor. He was running late. Not that he cared. The cause of his tardiness had been worth it.

  And how.

  Even now, forty-five minutes later, he couldn’t get the last image of Ava out of his head. Tousled, wide-eyed, sated, sitting up in bed clutching a sheet to hide what he’d already seen and admired and tasted all night long.

  She’d looked so vulnerable, the exact opposite of the wild, passionate woman she’d been in his arms, and it had taken every ounce of will power to walk away from her.

  Though what would hanging around have achieved? They’d had a memorable one-night stand. They had separate lives to lead on different continents. They had nothing in common beyond what they’d shared last night.

  So why that parting shot about how long he was staying here? The last thing he needed was a newly divorced woman finding her feet in singledom latching onto him.

  He mentally winced at that poor judgement call. Nothing Ava had said or done implied she’d be latching onto anyone any time soon. In fact, from what she’d said, she’d spent her life under a microscope and was probably looking for a little freedom.