Yet her eyes wouldn’t stray from his broad shoulders as he cut his way through the now heaving pub.
What would Grumps have said? Life is for living, Sam. One day you’ll wake up and be as old as me.
Making a snap decision she jumped down from the stool. One night. It’s all she wanted. A night when she could remember what it felt like to be a sexually attractive woman.
‘Wait!’
She caught up with him as he was about to cross the road outside the pub. Her breath caught as he halted and slowly turned to face her. He’d shrugged on his jacket and jammed his hands into the pockets, a scowl still on his face. At five foot ten, it wasn’t often Sam came across men who made her feel small. Not that this guy was excessively tall – she’d put him at six-two, maybe three. Yet the shoulders that strained against the leather of the jacket, the broken nose and the whole brooding thing he had going on, gave him a dangerous vibe. He looked big and mean. Intimidating. A bull, facing down the matador.
‘What?’
Maybe this was a bad idea. Inviting this guy to her place was pure insanity. But he pretended to listen while you talked about your grandad.
‘You planning on saying anything?’
He quirked a brow and she was relieved to see he seemed more irritated than angry now.
‘Sorry.’ She waved her hands about uselessly. ‘I think somehow I’ve offended you and I wanted you to know that it wasn’t my intention.’
‘You haven’t.’ His eyes drifted over her shoulder, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
‘Then why did you run away?’
‘Jesus.’ He inhaled slowly, then let it out in a hiss. ‘I tried a clumsy come-on, you shot me down. No big deal.’
‘I didn’t.’ When no reply came, she elaborated. ‘I said pardon, not no.’
‘Right.’ The muscle jumped again. ‘And is pardon code for yes now?’
‘Pardon means—’
‘I know what it means.’ He drew in another sharp breath. ‘You surely didn’t need me to repeat what I’d just said. It was fucking embarrassing enough the first time.’
‘You’re right, I didn’t.’ It was her turn for the deep breath. Come on, Sam, this isn’t hard. Take the jump. Live a little. ‘I said it to cover my surprise. Given longer to think, what I’d have actually asked is: do you want to come back with me because you hate your place? Or because you want me?’
The simmering anger faded. ‘Look, lady, I want to go back with you because you’re hot.’ He shrugged those impressive shoulders. ‘I mean, you talk too much, so we won’t be heading down the aisle, but you’re seriously hot. The chance to get away from my shithole for a while is a bonus.’
His words incited a zing of excitement. ‘You’re not my type, either. Too quiet and you don’t smile enough. But I find myself strangely attracted to you.’
‘Yeah? Does that mean we’re heading to yours?’ When she nodded, he started to laugh. ‘Well, lead the way, Champagne Lady.’
Ryan couldn’t believe his luck. One minute he’d been going back to his dump with his tail between his legs, dragging his battered ego behind him. Next, he was walking down the road with an elegant lady, about to get laid. Not that his godawful chat-up line deserved such an outcome but hey, he wasn’t about to complain. Either Champagne Lady was desperate – hard to imagine, looking like she did – or she fancied lowering her standards for the night. Lucky him.
Of course, there was a third option.
He glanced sideways at her. She was walking in a straight line, wasn’t she? A moment later, as if to prove how biased his judgement was, she stumbled. He shot out a hand and grabbed at her arm.
‘Thanks.’ She darted him an embarrassed smile and pointed to her sexy high shoes. ‘I don’t usually go to the pub in a black suit. I should have changed. At least put on some flat shoes. No woman in their right mind decides to get drunk while wearing heels.’
Damn it. He lurched to a stop, which, as he was still clutching her arm, brought her to a halt too. ‘Tell me you’re not drunk.’
She nibbled on her bottom lip, sending bolts of lust surging through him. ‘Umm, I’m not drunk?’
The wide-eyed look she gave him was cute, a mix of mischief and innocence, and he cursed under his breath. ‘Look, you’ve been drinking so I need to know this isn’t going to come back and bite me on the arse later.’ He held her by the shoulders, staring down at her. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
‘I thought we were going back to my place to screw like bunnies.’ Her mouth curved in a sexy smile. ‘That’s a sentence I didn’t think I’d ever say.’
Not unfocused, he decided. Her eyes were sexy as hell, but not unfocused. Still, his conscience pushed him. ‘You’re not going to wake up tomorrow morning with a bucketload of regrets? Cursing me for taking advantage?’
‘I’m going to curse you for ruining the mood if you carry on like this.’ She wasn’t just getting annoyed now, he noted with alarm, she was becoming agitated.
Way to go, Ryan Black. First man in history to talk himself out of getting laid. His hands still on her shoulders, he looked past the eyes that had held him transfixed, and down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The enticing curve of her cleavage, peeping out of the V of her blouse. No way was he going to blow this. No bloody way. Dipping his head – with her heels on, he didn’t have too far to bend – he kissed her.
She gasped, but he swallowed whatever she was going to say as he pressed his mouth more firmly, teasing her lips open with his tongue so he could dive into the heat of her. He groaned as he got his first taste. Champagne. And those bloody rainbows. Far sweeter than he’d thought, yet even more intoxicating. Desire ripped through him and he dropped a hand to her back, then lower, to the curve of her buttocks, pressing her against the part of him that ached and throbbed.
Mind fogged with lust, he continued to drive them both crazy right there, on the pavement, until a shrill wolf whistle and the unsubtle cry of ‘get a room’ broke his stride just enough for sanity to return. Breathing heavily, he eased back. ‘How’s your mood now?’ he asked hoarsely.
Her lips, swollen from his kisses, broke into a grin. ‘Back on track.’
‘Good. Let’s get to your place before I balls this up again.’
Dimly he noticed they were headed to the posh end of town. The opposite direction to the way he’d come. He’d had to get on a tube for a few stops in order to find a pub he was reasonably confident he wouldn’t get stabbed in. Just when he was about to ask how much further – her heels looked hell to walk in – she turned off the high street and into a smart side road where a cluster of elegant Georgian townhouses surrounded a small green.
She halted outside the second house. ‘I’m, umm, in this one.’
‘Nice.’
‘Yes.’ He knew her nerves had reappeared when she wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘You’re not like an axe murderer or anything, are you?’
He made a play of opening his jacket and looking in the inside pocket. ‘No axe today.’
Her smile looked strained. ‘Sorry, you can probably tell, I’m not used to doing this.’
‘Sex?’
It got the smile he’d hoped for. ‘Sex I can manage. It’s bringing a guy I don’t know back to mine that’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.’
Yet again, he felt the evening slipping away from him. ‘If it helps, I’m no expert at this either.’
‘You’re not?’
He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or insulted at her obvious surprise. ‘You couldn’t tell from my smooth pick-up line?’ Because he didn’t want to dwell on that again, he added, ‘We can always go back to mine, instead.’ Though he shuddered at the thought.
‘The shithole?’
‘Yeah. Bed’s comfy.’ He’d made sure of it. Renting a furnished dive was bad enough. He wasn’t going to sleep on a mattress that rats had partied on.
‘No, we’re good here.’
She shifted from foot to foot a
nd he knew, despite her words, she was still debating. He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out his wallet. ‘Would it help if I told you my name and address? Showed you some ID?’
‘No.’ She pushed his hand away, all that shiny red hair bouncing around her shoulders as she shook her head. ‘I kind of like that we don’t know each other.’
‘You got a sex-with-a-stranger kink going on?’ He didn’t mind that. Didn’t mind it at all.
‘I don’t think so. More recovering from a shitty breakup and not ready to date but I miss sex.’
Reassured, he clasped her hand. ‘Then let’s get you laid.’
She laughed softly. ‘Not exactly Mr Romantic, are you?’
He watched as she opened the heavy black door and stepped into the hallway. ‘Thought you wanted a one-night stand?’
She glanced up at him beneath her lashes. ‘I do.’
Placing his hands beneath her buttocks he lifted her and marched them to the nearest wall. There he pushed her against it, settling his hips between her legs. His arousal against her core. ‘Then who needs romance?’ He asked roughly, before plundering her mouth.
Her legs – he had a flash of bunched skirt and long, shapely leg – wrapped around him, sending further jolts of heat through him. As he continued to kiss her, he pushed the jacket off her shoulders and started to undo the buttons of her blouse. Christ, if he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t even get to her bedroom. Panting like a dog on heat, he drew back and let her legs slide slowly back to the ground. ‘What floor are you on?’
‘Third.’ At least she looked and sounded as turned on as he did.
‘Okay then.’ Three flights of stairs. Nothing to a man who worked out like he did, yet right now it felt like he had to climb Everest.
But then he looked at her flushed cheeks, her glittering blue eyes. The rise and fall of a pair of glorious lace-covered breasts, now partly exposed by his wandering hands. Climbing Everest was a small price to pay for spending the night with this woman.
Chapter 3
The nerves that had been successfully wiped out by his kiss returned as Sam opened the front door to her flat. She was being rash, sure, but women did this all the time. She just had to trust her instinct.
Her stomach fluttered as the nerves bedded in. There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have hesitated. A time when she’d known for sure she could judge a man’s character.
‘You okay?’
She turned to find her guest filling the doorway, his expression showing a hint of concern. Downstairs they’d been about to rip each other’s clothes off. Now she was considering putting on the brakes, even though she’d already made the decision to let him in.
She sighed, hanging her jacket on the peg in the hallway. She didn’t want it to be like this, all cautious and fearful. She wanted passion. A wild night when she could forget everything. And if the kiss downstairs was anything to go by, the pair of them had so much sexual chemistry, passion was as good as guaranteed. Providing she could get past these jitters.
He shifted on his feet. ‘Look, maybe this was a bad idea.’
Oh no. She wasn’t letting go of her plan that easily. She didn’t do wussing out. Straightening her shoulders, she tugged his hand, pulling him inside. Then shut the door behind him with a deliberate shove.
The action caused him to raise an eyebrow. ‘Or maybe it’s not.’
‘It’s not.’ She focused not on what she didn’t know about him, but what she did. He’d made sure she wasn’t drunk. He’d offered to show her his ID. Even now, he was giving her an out. They weren’t the actions of a man she needed to be afraid of. ‘Just tell me what we do now.’ As the words played back to her, she started to laugh. ‘I mean, I know we need to get naked at some point, but do you want a drink first?’
His mouth quirked. ‘I thought we’d done that at the pub.’
‘Yes, we have, sorry. I told you, I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I’m not sure of the rules.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ He cupped her face in a surprisingly gentle gesture. ‘This is just you and me, Champagne Lady. There are no rules.’
She watched as his mouth lowered towards hers; sensuous lips, surrounded by very male stubble. Her heart kicked up a gear. What was it about him that had made her act so out of character tonight? Or was it the circumstances, more than the man? Would she have invited any half-decent-looking guy back with her tonight? Those lips touched hers and she moaned as a dozen fireworks exploded, shooting heat through her blood.
No. It was this man she wanted tonight. Before he reduced her to a puddle of hormones again, she pushed on his chest, and wow, that was one hell of a wall of muscle. ‘We should head for the bedroom.’
‘If you like.’ His expression said he didn’t care where it happened, as long as it did.
And now the fluttering in her stomach was excitement, not nerves.
She started to lead the way when she came to an abrupt halt. ‘Can you carry me?’ At his puzzled look, she laughed, a teeny bit self-conscious. ‘“The hot stranger carried her to the bedroom.”’ She bit into her lip, aware she was making a fool of herself yet also uncaring, because she wasn’t going to see him again. The beauty of sex with a stranger. ‘Sounds better than “They walked to the bedroom”.’
He let out a low laugh and it looked good on him. Softened the edges of his rather blunt masculinity. ‘Are you writing a dirty book?’
‘Only in my head.’
Suddenly her feet were lifted off the floor, but rather than being swept into his arms, as she’d envisioned, she was thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. The absurdity of it got to her and she started to giggle, thumping on his back as he walked down the hallway, opening the door to the bathroom and the storage cupboard before he found one with a bed in it. ‘This one yours?’
‘Yes!’ she squeaked as he threw her – okay, it wasn’t hard, but still, he threw her – onto the bed. Blowing her hair out of her eyes, she stared up at him. ‘Not quite what I’d imagined.’
‘No? Your book doesn’t feature hunky firemen?’
It was because he said it with a straight face, she realised. Most men grinned when they used humour, but with this guy, it took a moment to realise he was joking.
But then he was climbing onto the bed, leaning over her, staring into her eyes, and all humour fled. His amusement might be hard to read but his arousal, his need, burned so bright she felt the searing intensity of it all the way to her toes. ‘This is the part where we get naked.’
‘Right.’ She swallowed, her stomach performing a series of frantic somersaults. ‘You first.’
‘Oh no. Ladies first.’ Lying alongside her, resting his weight on his left arm, he used his right to slowly undo the remaining buttons on her blouse. ‘Nice.’
Not the most eloquent compliment she’d ever had, but it was the look of wonder on his face that made it seem better than any flowery phrase he could have given her.
Wordlessly he slipped his hand behind her and flicked open the snap of her bra, tugging it off. ‘Very nice.’
She smiled, stopping him as he began to undo her skirt. ‘My turn.’ Her hands trembled slightly as she undid the buttons of his shirt.
‘Nervous?’ She shook her head. ‘Good.’
Excitement licked at her insides as she revealed the muscled expanse of his chest; the dusting of dark hair that covered his pecs, trailing erotically down past his navel and into the waistband of his jeans. Thrilled, she ran her hands across the ridges and planes of his stomach, feeling a throb of exquisite arousal as he let out a guttural groan.
‘You’re nicely packaged,’ she whispered.
He let out a strangled-sounding laugh. ‘Thanks.’
‘Go on, do that again.’
‘What?’
‘Laugh. You’re really sexy when you laugh.’
He hissed in a breath as her fingers reached for the button of his jeans. ‘I’m sexy and nicely packaged,’ he repeated hoarsely. ‘You mus
t be drunker than I thought.’ With that his hand clamped over hers. ‘My turn again.’
Ryan didn’t know how much longer he could keep it together. For a man who couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex – and yeah, how humiliating was that? – having this sexy redhead in bed with him, her stupendous breasts now revealed, was almost too much. If she’d opened his fly, it could have been game over.
Summoning all his wavering control, he focused back on her. Off came the little black skirt, the natty white underwear and the sexy stockings that seemed to be able to hold themselves up all on their own. She had curves, he thought with satisfaction, and a pair of legs that were every bit as good as he’d imagined. He opened his mouth to say ‘nice’ again, then clamped it shut. He’d like to bet that word didn’t feature in any erotic book she had going on in her head.
Instead of talking he bent to kiss her calf, trailing his lips up to her hips, across the gentle curve of her stomach and then to those magnificent breasts.
When he’d had the satisfaction of turning her into a writhing, moaning, sexy-as-hell mess, he hastily shrugged off the rest of his clothes and settled over her. They both groaned at the contact of naked skin on naked skin, but as he reached to touch her breast again, he froze. ‘Hang on a minute.’
Condom. Damn and blast, did he have one in his wallet still? Leaping off the bed, he lunged for his jeans and started frantically searching through his wallet.
‘Everything okay?’ She was propped up on her elbows, looking over at him like a flame-haired temptress.
‘Yeah. Just, you know, protection.’ Smooth, Black. Really frigging smooth.
‘Ah. I guess that’s sexual fling 101.’
He knew it was meant as a joke, yet it made him feel stupid. How come he’d not thought of this until now? Just as his heart, and his libido, was in danger of sinking, he found a foil packet hidden behind the rarely used credit card. He almost blurted, ‘Eureka’ but stopped himself.
‘Sorry.’ He sorted himself out before easing back onto the bed, worried he might have totally ruined the moment.
The New Guy Page 2