‘If I’d known you were going to throw them out,’ Nick said mildly, ‘I would have held on to those.’
‘You did quite enough holding on to those!’
He had the nerve to splutter out a laugh. ‘What?’
‘I didn’t expect you to – To – To finger them while you were chatting up other women.’
‘I wasn’t chatting up other women.’
‘Ha!’
‘Just ask me what was going through my mind when I was talking to those other women, Chloe, and I’ll tell you.’
‘Words are cheap.’
‘You’re right, they are. Come here and let me finger the underwear you’ve got on instead and I’ll show you what I was thinking.’
‘I’m not wearing –’ Stop, with a snap of teeth.
‘Not?’ His eyes lit. ‘Really?’
Blink, blink, breathe. ‘Regardless, you won’t be getting within a kilometre of anymore of my underwear. Maybe you should dig those panties out of the bin. A souvenir. To go with the trunkful you already have stashed at your place to remind you of all your one night stands.’
‘I don’t keep souvenirs of one night stands.’
‘Then by all means, pull my underwear out of the bin and start your collection.’
‘We’re not having a one night stand, Chloe, so your underwear can’t be the start of that collection, can it?’
‘That’s right, it was daylight. A one-day-stand is what we had. A five-minute stand!’
He strode over to me, his own temper starting to climb. ‘You just love misinterpreting me. Why don’t you just come out and ask me about the difference between you and all those other women? Aren’t you interested in what was going through my head when I had my hand in my pocket with that pretty pink silk? Because I’ll tell you.’
My heart started beating wildly, warning me that I did not want to know. ‘I’m not interested enough in you to … to interpret you.’
‘Then I’ll make this bit nice and clear, so you won’t have to. My so-called attitude was about giving you what you asked for. Confidentiality. Nobody knowing what we’d done. What I wanted to do again the minute we’d finished. That meant I dared not look at you for more than a second at a time, let alone get too close to you, because what I wanted to do to you would have been obvious to anyone with eyes in their goddamn head. And tonight? Well, you see, Chloe, I didn’t really think you’d want me to drag you on top of the table and fuck your brains out in front of ten other people. But you sure as hell didn’t make it easy. The dress, the hair, the heels. They were all for me, weren’t they? A little bit of torture? Well, I’m not into games, not at this point, when it’s patently obvious how I feel about you, so just straight out tell me what you want. Do you want to ditch the confidentiality bullshit? Because I’ll go public right now. I’ll lay claim to you every time I’m within touching distance, and I’ll talk about you every moment I’m not so every other woman knows she’s wasting her time. Then you won’t have to wonder and neither will anyone else. How about that? Just say the word and it’s done.’
If I’d thought my heart was beating wildly before, it was a full-on castanet club in there now, ricocheting off my rib cage. Something about what he said was taking hold, a dark demon, daring me to demand that he lay claim to me right that second. Madness. Absolute madness. That’s what I could see in his eyes – a madness to match mine.
‘No,’ I said, but it came out weak and thready.
He grabbed me by the upper arms. ‘Come on, Chloe. You did it with him, all above board and out in the open. Why not with me? Why not me?’
‘Him?’
‘Marcus.’
Marcus. His name bounced into my head and stuck there. Reminding me of just why this thing with Nick needed to stay secret. I tore myself free. ‘I don’t want a second break-up with a footballer in the news a week from now, making me look like some tragic groupie screwing her way through the whole team.’
‘Easily fixed. Don’t break up.’
‘It’s too late. Our joint statement was issued to the media four hours into the flight from Sydney. I’ve already no-commented fifteen times.’
‘I’m not talking about Marcus. I’m talking about –’ He broke off with an incoherent curse. ‘Jesus, Chloe. Me. I’m talking about me. You and me. Don’t break up with me.’
I laughed … until I saw the grim set of his mouth – and the laughter dried up. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Can’t I? Why not? Explain the difference to me. Help me figure out what it was about Marcus that kept you with him all nice and public for a year, while I get eight days in the shadows.’
‘I … I … It was … He’s … Look, he’s just different. From you, I mean.’
‘Oh, he’s different all right. But what way do you mean? Smarter? Richer? Better job prospects after football?’
‘No!’ I burst out. And then, more controlled. ‘No.’ I shrugged awkwardly, because I couldn’t explain it. ‘Look, this really has nothing to do with Marcus.’
‘It has everything to do with Marcus. The whole key to you is why you chose him, and why you stayed.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Because you could control him?’ he asked. ‘Is that why?’
‘If I could control him, we’d still be together, because I sure as hell didn’t want to break up with him,’ I snapped. ‘I just had to, because of you.’
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me for a second. I don’t think he’d even blinked. And I couldn’t bear it for another second, so I turned away, fiddling with the belt of my robe.
‘No,’ Nick said slowly. ‘It wasn’t about controlling him. It was about controlling yourself. You could control yourself with him, and he could control himself with you. That made everything smooth and even and calm and nice.’ He laughed. One short hoot of it. ‘Must have been dynamite in the bedroom.’
‘You don’t know a damn thing about me and Marcus. About me, period.’
He spun me to face him. ‘I know you can’t control yourself with me. And I know I’m sure as shit hanging on to my own control by a thread whenever I’m around you. Scary, right? Except that I’m not scared.’
‘That’s not –. That’s –’ Nope, couldn’t get another word to form.
‘It won’t ever be smooth and even and calm and nice with me,’ he said. ‘Because I take you way out of your comfort zone. I want to take you there, Chloe, but I’m not going to drag you. You have to want it the way I do.’
‘Well I don’t want it the way you do.’
‘Prove it. Kiss me. Try to control it. If you can, I’ll walk out the door and you’ll be free of me.’
‘You keep daring me. Giving me ultimatums. Just … just stop it!’
‘I’m not going to stop until we have the final answer. I’ll keep hunting you until you prove to me you don’t want me every bit as ferociously as I want you. That’s why you have to choose – so we both know.’
‘All right, I’ll prove it,’ I cried, unable to take the intensity for another second. ‘I’ll kiss you, and I’ll control it, and then we’ll say goodbye.’
‘What was that about words being cheap? Try some action, Chloe.’
Swallowing, I closed my eyes, tipped my chin up, and waited.
He laughed in that soft, amused way he had that made me want to punch him. ‘I thought you wanted to control it,’ he said. ‘That means you kiss me. Open your eyes.’
I opened them.
‘Before you do this, know that I’m not Marcus. Once we start, there will be nothing nice about the way I touch you.’
‘Yes, yes, yes. Words are cheap, remember?’
And as he laughed, I grabbed his T-shirt, used it to drag myself onto my toes, and put my mouth on his. Three seconds, I figured. My mouth on his for three seconds, and we would be saying goodbye and I could stop this torture and get back to my internet search of Bryce Haynes.
One, two, three, I counted in my head, and drew back, a whispe
r away. Let go, my brain told my hands, but my hands were clinging like talons and refused to obey. I could feel his heart banging like a drum, hard and fast. My heels wouldn’t drop to the floor, so I was still on my toes, my mouth hovering near his. I could smell him, feel him. His eyes were boring into mine, hot as hell. Something was niggling at me. Creeping, sneaking into me. A thought, a knowledge, a feeling. And then the word for all of that slid into my consciousness – safe. ‘Nick,’ I whispered.
‘Don’t be scared,’ he whispered back. ‘Just do it. Take it. Anything. Anything.’
And before the last syllable was out of his mouth, my mouth crashed against his and I went wild. I plastered myself against his chest, throwing my arms around him. I swear I would have climbed right up his body if I could have. And he would have been just fine with that. He would accommodate whatever I wanted. He’d said as much, he’d shown me so.
Long panting moments as I thrust my tongue into his mouth, out, in, out, in. I could feel the drenching moisture between my thighs. Hot. Hot, hot, so hot. God I had to have him or I really thought I would die. A clash of teeth, and I tasted blood and did not freaking care as long as our mouths were together. I was gasping, trying to get closer, closer. And he just stood there and let me, holding me, holding on, shifting only to make it easier for me to touch him any way I wanted to.
And then the shaking started, and I was desperate, arching, pushing against his erection, needing to have it there, just there. I’d never felt like this. Consumed with so much lust, my legs started to give out. ‘Nick, I need … I need …’ But I couldn’t seem to complete a thought, let alone a sentence. All I knew was that I wanted him the way he said I could have him, any time I liked, all over me, and I loved, loved the strength of him that kept me upright even when I thought I would collapse at his feet. ‘Something. I need something,’ I breathed against his mouth, and then I kissed him again, long and hard. ‘Tell me, help me. I need …’
And something about my stupid garbled words must have made sense to him, because the next moment, he took over, and I was facing away from him, and he was behind me, propelling me forward until we were at the bed.
I tried to turn so I could land on the bed face up, because it was clear he was about to push me down and come down on top of me. I was anticipating the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, longing for it, already preparing to spread my legs to make it easier for him.
But he stopped me again. He leaned in close, pulled my hair to one side, out of his way. He licked my neck. One long, hard stroke of his tongue. ‘Want me to stop?’ he asked.
I shook my head, whimpered. No, I didn’t want him to stop.
‘Then say it,’ he said. ‘I need the words, Chloe.’
I closed my eyes, shuddering as he licked again. ‘Don’t stop. Please don’t.’
His mouth was at my ear. I could hear him breathing. Choppy, dragged in, gasped out breaths. All over the place.
‘Nick …?’ And my voice was as shaky as the rest of me. ‘Now what?’
‘Shhh. Hear what you do to me. I can’t control my breathing, Chloe. Or my heartbeat. Or these tremors. Can you feel them? Yes, you can, I know you can. Because I want to be inside you so badly.’
‘Yes, yes, please.’
‘So you know what?’
‘What?’ I asked breathless.
‘I’m going to take you just like this, because I can’t wait. I can’t control the way I need you. And I know, I know you want me the same way. Say it. Say you need me.’
‘Nick,’ I said, and it was an entreaty, pure and simple.
He bit the side of my neck, licked there, sucked. ‘Do you need me, Chloe?’
‘Yes, yes,’ I said, surrendering. ‘I need you.’
And with that, he pushed me onto the bed, face first, and came down on top of me. I could feel him, all heavy muscle, the massive erection straining against my bottom. It was a little bit like the aircraft toilet all over again. His jeans being shoved down, my clothes – in this case, the terry towelling robe – being jerked up. A curse as he grabbed a condom from his pocket – a few condoms, because a couple landed on the mattress near my head – not exactly strewn rose petals! Then came the sound of the condom wrapper tearing. And then he was pushing inside me, so big it should have hurt … and yet it felt just right. And this time, I couldn’t control the pressure or the leverage, so he was free to pull all the way out, before plunging all the way in, hitting that exact spot, over and over, until I was coming. I found myself panting out his name, then screaming it – and as if that was a cue, I felt him jerk inside me, once more, again – and he was coming, coming, coming, so hard and strong, groaning my name.
And then … silence. Except for our harsh breathing, gradually slowing.
Nick rolled off me, onto his back.
I lay there on my stomach, shell-shocked, face turned away from him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and sighed. I felt the bed dip as he rolled towards me. ‘That’s not exactly how I thought tonight would go. Not how I wanted it to be.’
I eased onto my side, facing him. ‘Me neither,’ I said, and my voice wobbled slightly.
‘Oh God, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Chloe?’
I shook my head, reached out, touched his lip. ‘Other way round. I’m sorry.’
‘What?’
‘I bit your lip.’
‘I don’t care, Chloe. I told you, you can do anything you damn well want.’
He pulled my robe down roughly, covering me. ‘Chloe?’ he said. Or maybe asked. It was the first time I’d ever heard him uncertain. ‘Will you let me try again?’
I wanted to say something, but my throat had closed over. I had never come with such strength in my life. Never had sex like it – with no concept of how I’d looked, what I’d said, the way I’d moved. I’m telling you, I’m all about technique, so it was quite a jolt – and don’t get me started on the sweat quotient, which I hadn’t given a thought to!
Try to control it. If you can, I’ll walk out the door and you’ll be free of me.
It was pretty damn obvious what had just happened had been out of control – for both of us. And yet, he was giving me an out.
I had a sudden insight that he was always, always, going to give me an out. It was always, always, going to be up to me. Just like everything had been, up to this point. However aggressively he lobbed the ball into my court, it was up to me how, when, if, I returned it.
And somehow, that sudden, inexplicable truth changed everything and made this choice at least, easy, so I said, very simply, ‘Yes.’
He kissed me. Long, slow, sweet. And everything in me stirred, leapt again.
‘Wait,’ he said, as I grabbed for him.
‘I don’t want to wait.’
‘Please, Chloe, let me do it right, just this once. After that, you can crash and burn all over me, I promise.’
He touched my face, and my throat closed over again so that all I could do was nod.
Nick got up from the bed and strode towards the bathroom, peeling off the condom as he went and somehow managing to toe off his shoes and kick them backwards, towards the bed, at the same time. I guessed that was experience on display, the ability to do all three things at once. I was very certain Nick’s sexual repertoire was more sophisticated than anything I’d ever experienced. That he’d had sex in more ways than I’d ever dreamed of. In more beds, more places, with more partners, in various states of dress and undress, at all hours of the day and night.
By comparison, I was … well, not a Vibrating Rock Chick! There, I’d admitted it. Drew and Evie were right: I didn’t like to sweat. And Nick was right, too: I liked to control myself. I didn’t like the vulnerability of losing myself in lust. Given all that, and the obvious disparity in our skill levels, I was pretty sure Nick would be very ready to move on when our time in Manila was at an end. Which was good. It was … manageable, knowing you were only going to be out of control for a finite period. Which I know doesn�
�t make a lot of sense, controlling your lack of control, but that’s how I rationalised the violent need in me.
Nick came back into the room, reefing his T-shirt over his head. He threw it on his way to the bed without bothering to look where it landed. His jeans and underwear, which had been shoved down just far enough to free himself for that first bout of sex, were pushed off next. He was erect again, which was verging on miraculous, if you asked me. Every part of him was huge and perfect and my fingers were itching to touch him.
Naked, he came to me, knelt on the bed beside me, untied the sash of my robe and pushed the two halves open. ‘Jesus, Chloe,’ he said, and his voice was thick and hoarse, ‘I think I could come just from looking at you. But that’s not going to repair my reputation.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory tonight. But I’ll do better this time.’
‘What are your first aid skills like?’ I asked, only half joking, ‘Because if you do much better, I’ll probably have a stroke.’
Laughing, he lifted me up, kissed me as he eased the robe all the way off me. He adjusted the bedclothes beneath me, so that I was laid out on the clean white surface of the sheet. When he positioned my arms and legs, spreading them, I felt like a sacrificial lamb. The wonder of it was that I was perfectly happy to be one.
He positioned himself next, kneeling between my thighs, nudging them even further apart to accommodate his massive thighs. And okay, forget the sacrificial lamb – the way he was looking at me made me feel like a dessert buffet.
He looked at me for so long, so hungrily, I thought I was going to lose it and actually touch myself! And I certainly didn’t need any more self-gratification in my life! ‘Nick, if you don’t touch me soon …’ I couldn’t believe that was actually my voice, it was so unsteady.
‘Oh, I’m going to touch you, sweetheart. I’m going to touch you with everything I have in me.’ And then he reached between my legs and circled my clitoris with the tip of one finger. Once, twice, again, and just when I thought I would have to grab his hand and drag it hard against me, he edged backwards, lifted my hips, lowered his head, and used his tongue to circle there instead.
Escaping Mr Right Page 12