by Nicola Marsh
She laughed. ‘If you’re in a hurry because you can’t wait to get me alone later, I like the way you think.’
He stopped dead and she bumped into his side, relishing the all-too-brief contact of one half of his body slamming against hers.
‘I’m hoping you’ll like a lot more than that.’
He slipped a protective arm around her waist as his smouldering gaze sent a thrill of anticipation through her. ‘In fact, I’m counting on it.’
Beth couldn’t think for a moment, what with his hand nestled comfortably around her waist, his thumb strumming back and forth, and the intent in his eyes notching up her excitement levels to unbearable.
Moistening her bottom lip with her tongue, and enjoying the fleeting tortured expression that flickered across his face, she dropped her voice to a whisper.
‘The faster you bid, the faster we get to the good stuff.’
With a muffled groan he released her. ‘Come on, quit dawdling.’
She chuckled, the confident sound of a woman who knew what she liked in a man and how to get it, as Aidan all but dragged her into the ballroom in a fair imitation of a sedate sprint.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘YOU should’ve told me.’
Beth unlocked her front door and pushed it open, flinging a mischievous look over her shoulder with a toss of her silky blonde hair. ‘Why? I knew you’d find out soon enough.’
Shaking his head, Aidan followed her into the cavernous warehouse, hoping the inside was a lot more inviting than the bleak exterior.
‘You got that right.’ He blinked as she flicked on switches, flooding a suspended wooden walkway in light. ‘Unfortunately, I get to find out that my newest wannabe tour guide is actually a star sculptor when I see her name on the programme, and how much her art is worth rather than hearing it from the sculptor herself.’
She chuckled, the throaty, full-on laugh he’d grown way too fond of way too quickly.
‘It’s your fault. I was going to tell you before you wrinkled your uppity nose at my best work in ages and said it was “too modern”.’
His mouth twitched as he feigned indignation. ‘There’s nothing uppity about my nose and I definitely didn’t sound like Barry White on steroids when I said it was too modern.’
Unfortunately, he thought, considering most women were into that soul-deep crooning-voice thing, as he followed her down the walkway before stepping down a small flight of stairs into a room the size of a small aircraft hangar.
She laughed and crooked a finger over her shoulder, beckoning him to follow. As if he needed to be asked twice.
‘Some place.’
He did a three-sixty, taking in the eclectic mix of rippled steel ceiling, white-washed stone walls, honey-coloured wooden slat blinds over monstrous windows and the largest, brightest splashes of paint passing as pictures hanging on the walls at various spots throughout the warehouse.
‘I like it.’ She headed into a tiny kitchenette at odds with the size of the rest of the place. ‘What would you like to drink?’
‘Coffee’s fine. Black, one sugar, thanks.’
He headed over to a spotlit corner featuring a giant Japanese screen inlaid with the finest mother-of-pearl cherry-blossom motif. It was a work of art and he couldn’t help but run his fingertips over the exquisite work.
He missed the fieldwork, missed the excitement of searching, the thrill of discovering ancient items of beauty. Things like this screen were made for the world to appreciate yet the closest he got these days was staring at priceless pieces behind the glass of a museum cabinet with the rest of the public rather than touching and feeling and experiencing the sheer rush of finding a beautiful artefact.
He couldn’t wait to get back out there and the sooner Abe returned from his R & R, the sooner he could get back to the digs.
‘If you like the screen, wait till you get a load of what’s behind it.’
She joined him, handing over a mug of steaming coffee before stepping around the screen and jerking her head to indicate he should follow.
‘This is where I work. Though I guess it’s not really your thing, being so modern and all.’
‘Give a guy a break,’ he said, sipping at his coffee, wondering whether the jolt of energy coursing through his veins came from the caffeine rush or the sight of Beth picking up pliers and a shiny sheet of steel, caressing the metal with the kind of touch she’d reserve for a lover.
‘I’ll think about it.’
She shot him an impudent smile before gripping the metal with the pliers and twisting it into a star with origami-like precision.
‘You’re very talented.’
He drained his coffee and placed the mug on a sideboard before joining her at the workbench. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about all this? Really?’
Her hands stilled, the pliers looking surprisingly delicate resting in her palm despite their size and function as she raised her eyes to meet his.
‘Because it wasn’t relevant to my job and that’s what you’ve been pretty focussed on every time we’ve talked before our chat at Brunetti’s.’
She was right.
She was brash, funny, exuberant and obviously thought he was the opposite considering her nickname for him. She thought he was a pedantic workaholic who was too focussed on the museum. Sadly, she was absolutely spot on. He never used to be that guy, but he was these days and for what? To prove something to a man who probably wouldn’t notice if he danced naked on top of the Sphinx?
When she didn’t respond, he sat down on a stool next to her and picked up a miniature wrought-iron basket. ‘Being your boss and all that entails hasn’t given you a very good impression of me, huh?’
She gnawed on her bottom lip and he struggled to ignore the surge of lust at how much he’d like to do the same.
‘Actually, you’ve been pretty great about everything.’
‘But you think I’m judgemental.’
Hell, he’d probably reacted to her work exactly how she’d thought he would. Though she didn’t say the words, he remembered her disappointment when he’d commented on her show-stopper at the auction before she’d masked it with her usual quick wit.
‘Not really,’ she muttered, lacking total conviction, and he drifted towards a nearby bookcase constructed from twisted metal and glass, grasping at a change of subject.
Scanning the shelves, he was surprised by the strange mix of anatomy and psychology texts next to classic literature.
‘Bit of light reading?’
She swivelled to face him, wariness clouding her eyes. ‘Just some stuff I read in my teens while trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘You read Gray’s Anatomy in your teens?’
She shrugged and fiddled with the pliers, twisting a metal sliver into a pretzel. ‘I was gifted.’
She dropped the bombshell in the same monotone a kid might use to request a peanut-butter sandwich.
‘Let me get this straight. Your IQ is off the charts, you could be anything you want and you choose to do that?’
He knew it was the wrong thing to say the instant the pliers sheered off and sliced the metal clean in two.
Damn it, he usually weighed his words as carefully as his decisions, but somehow her announcement had thrown him more than discovering the wrought-iron impression of the Sydney Opera House at the auction tonight was her creation.
Picking up another sheet of metal, she resumed her twisting with the pliers and he had the distinct feeling she was wishing it were his head.
‘I like what I do. I like being creative,’ she said, her voice glacial, her eyes shooting green fire as she stabbed at the metal, making a giant hole for goodness knew what reason. ‘I don’t like being judged by the size of my brain.’
She paused to give a particularly vicious twist to the metal to the point where it bent and contorted to breaking-point. ‘And I really, really don’t like some judgemental jackass like you belittling what I do.
’
She was right, again. He didn’t take her job seriously and hadn’t from the first moment he’d learned the truth tonight.
Mentally kicking himself for being such a moron, he crossed the room to stand in front of her, willing her to look at him again, to pay as much attention to him as she was to the bizarre creation in her hands.
‘You know what I like?’
‘What?’
She lifted her head a fraction, enough for him to see her frown while her body language—folded arms, tense shoulders, slight lean away from him—screamed hands off.
Yeah, as if he could do that.
‘You,’ he said softly, cupping her chin, using the gentlest of pressure to lift her face towards his, hoping she’d listen to what he had to say after the way he’d blundered through things the last few minutes. ‘I like you. I’m sorry I offended you. You caught me off guard, that’s all.’
Her compressed lips softened a tad but she didn’t lose the frown. ‘It still doesn’t change the fact you think I’m wasting my time being a metal sculptor rather than using my brain for something more worthwhile. Like an archaeologist perhaps? Or maybe a brain surgeon? Or a rocket scientist?’
She snapped her fingers. ‘I know, maybe I should be the world’s greatest tour guide.’
Suddenly, her frown vanished, accompanied by a twitching of the corners of her lush mouth. ‘Oh, that’s right. I already am.’
To his amazement, she laughed, a laugh that echoed in the cavernous warehouse, bouncing off the walls until it seemed to envelop him with her natural spontaneity and warmth.
‘So I take it I’m forgiven for being a conservative jerk who can’t think before he speaks?’
‘There’s nothing conservative about you.’
Her eyes widened to large green pools as his hand slid from under her chin to rest at the nape of her neck, as if she anticipated his next move would be to draw her closer and kiss her senseless.
‘Just in case, I think it’s time to shake things up a bit, to show you exactly how non-conservative I can be.’
Aidan didn’t know who made the first move but suddenly the short space between him and a handful of luscious woman vanished in an instant as they lunged at each other.
‘Never knew you could lighten up this much, Professor.’ She gasped as he slid his hands over her shoulders, pushing down the flimsy straps holding up her shimmery, barely there dress as he’d been yearning to do all evening.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Fancy Feet,’ he murmured, savouring the feel of silky-soft skin beneath his fingertips, blazing a trail with his lips where his hands had just been.
A weird sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh erupted near his ear. ‘Fancy Feet?’
He raised his head from the creamy skin of her neck reluctantly, muttering a curse.
‘Not the most romantic endearment you’ve ever heard, I bet.’
She smiled, a sensuous upward curving of her lips that had him dying to cover them with his own.
‘I’ve heard better. Then again, it is original.’
‘It’s those damn shoes you keep wearing.’
He pointed to yet another sexy ensemble designed to entice and draw his attention to the perfection of her endless legs. ‘How’s a guy supposed to not ogle your sensational legs when you draw attention to them with shoes like that?’
He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close until she couldn’t mistake the bulge in his pants for anything other than what it was: irreversible proof of exactly how much he desired her.
She smirked and wound her arms around his neck, pulling his head down towards her. ‘Now that we’ve established how much we like each other with the nickname thing and how much you like my shoes, where were we?’
‘Right here.’
He settled his lips over hers, more than a little disconcerted at how right it felt.
As if he’d finally come home.
As if this was the type of woman he could get used to having around for longer than his usual few dates.
But that could never be.
He’d almost given up everything once before and he could never settle in one place again, no matter how much he wanted to or for whom.
He deepened the kiss, pure, unadulterated lust shooting through him as she matched him thrust for thrust, her tongue winding around his, teasing, tasting, taking as much as she gave.
He groaned as her hands grabbed his butt, hanging on as if she couldn’t get enough while her mouth left his only to nibble her way across his jaw to his ear where she bit down, hard enough to brand him as hers, soft enough to leave him begging for more.
‘Bedroom?’ he managed to grit out as she slid a hand around from his butt to cup his erection, sending the blood roaring through his head as she shifted her hand up and down the length of him.
‘Now, now, where’s your famous adventurous spirit?’
She sent a pointed look at the plush red rug beneath their feet and he grinned, more than eager to dispense with the wasted seconds it would take to reach her bedroom.
‘I like the way you think.’
He tugged on the zip holding up the silver sheath, smiling when it gave a satisfying hiss and the dress pooled in a glittering heap at her feet.
‘That’s a mighty confident grin,’ she murmured, not in the least embarrassed as his gaze left her face to slide downwards, his breath catching at the sight of her beautiful breasts. Full. Round. Exquisite.
Unable to keep his hands off them a second longer, he cupped them, savouring their lushness, skimming a thumb over each pale brown nipple. ‘That’s because I’m guessing we’re a sure thing right about now?’
‘Good guess.’
She drew his belt out of his trousers’ loops inch by slow inch, deliberately brushing against his erection with every move. Torturing him, teasing him, her touch driving him slowly but surely crazy.
He usually liked to take things slow, to draw out the pleasure, but with every tantalising touch he knew he’d combust if he didn’t follow this base instinct and have fast and furious sex with this feisty woman who could turn him on with the barest hint of a twinkle in her incredible eyes.
As if she sensed his need the next few moments were a blur of fast hands, flying garments and clashing mouths as they repeatedly kissed while tearing each others’ clothes off, the air filled with her soft pants and his heavy groans.
‘At last,’ he murmured as she stood before him, naked, glorious, her suddenly shy smile hitting him where he least expected it: his heart.
His heart?
Hell, it really had been way too long since he’d had sex. Since when did he let himself feel anything beyond job satisfaction, let alone emotion?
Emotions were wasted. They built hopes, fuelled dreams, before disintegrating into the dust he dug through. He’d learned it as a boy, had had it confirmed as a man and there was no way he’d let Beth get too close no matter how much she captivated him.
‘Come on.’
She tugged him down to the rug and he quickly banished his thoughts to concentrate on the task at hand and that was losing his mind with the woman who turned him on with a simple smile.
Beth moaned as Aidan’s lips trailed down her neck, hard, insistent, creating heat and sending rivers of mind-numbing need flooding through her body.
‘Oh!’ She arched upwards as his mouth found her nipple, sucking, nipping, teasing her with his skilful tongue while his hands were free to roam south, skimming her belly before gently spreading her thighs.
‘Am I going too fast for you?’
He lifted his head as she let out another hearty moan and she laughed, shaking her head.
‘What would you do if I said not fast enough?’
His eyes darkened to pewter as his lips curved into a naughty smile, a smile loaded with wicked promise.
‘I’d do this.’
With a fast move she’d associate with an X-rated star rather than a CEO he’d flipped h
er around, his hot breath fanning against her stomach and bringing his arousal in her direct line of vision.
‘Slick, Professor, very slick,’ she murmured, a second before he placed his mouth against her throbbing centre, sending sparks of electricity shooting through her body in little bursts of pleasure.
‘Fast enough for you?’
He spread her further apart, his tongue finding her clitoris with unerring accuracy, licking at her, flicking her in quick little darting movements designed to send her into orbit in the blink of an eye.
‘Oh, yeah,’ she said through gritted teeth, wondering if there was a world record for the fastest orgasm ever, sure she was about to beat it with the help of one very sexy guy.
He paused, sending her a scorching glance. ‘We’ve done it your way for a while, now we do it mine.’
She made a tiny mewl of disappointment, her pelvis making a small unconscious thrust up towards his mouth, shamelessly begging for more.
‘You may like things fast, but we staid museum types prefer it slow. Real slow.’
He dipped his head to lick her once, twice. Long, drawn out sweeps with his tongue, which had her biting her lower lip to stop from crying out.
‘Slow is good too,’ she managed to get out before he picked up where he’d left off, though this time at a much slower pace, which drove her wilder than before.
Closing her eyes, she gave in to the sensations bombarding her, making more noise than was surely polite for a first time with a guy but not giving a damn.
She was blinded with mindless need, and her head dropped forward, only to be nudged by the hard evidence of what her rather shameless noises were doing to him.
‘Payback time…’ She leaned forward a fraction to take him in her mouth, enjoying the tortured groan he let out as she licked him with the same fervour he was inflicting on her.
‘Too much,’ he muttered, picking up where he’d left off for a second, driving her to the brink of losing control.
‘On the contrary, not nearly enough.’ She raised her head to send him a seductive smile.
She’d never felt this empowered, this confident and it had everything to do with the guy about to send her to the moon and back with the best orgasm of her life.