Lane sighed. “I’m done, Adam. Done with it.”
He felt a chill down his spine. His pulse was racing. His mouth had gone dry. Find the best words, that’s what he had to do. The right words. To guarantee she wasn’t done with him. That he didn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. When he wanted her so much.
At last, he held out his hand. “Come then, Lane. I won’t stop,” he said hoarsely.
* * *
Lane trembled, wanting to take his hand. Wanting it so badly.
“Lane?”
She looked into his eyes. This was it, then. What she wanted. Mindless, no-questions-asked sex. So why did it seem physically impossible to go to him? Some force stronger than her head—which was advising her to go right ahead—was holding her back.
“Let’s stop this, Adam.” Her mouth twisted. Her hands came up again, as though they wanted to force it back to its usual position, but dropped as she managed to get herself under control. “I’ve known from the start you weren’t attracted to me, but I was so stupid, I didn’t think that was necessary. I realize, now, that the sexual mechanics aren’t enough. How am I even going to get to the mechanics if I can’t attract someone?”
He stared at her. “But I am attracted to you. You’ve felt the evidence pressed against you enough times to know that.”
Okay, yes, she had felt the “evidence.” But what did it mean that he could react to her like that…and still not want her? She didn’t know. Had no idea what it was about her that stopped him. But something did, and she didn’t think she could take it any more. Lane shook her head. “Since we started, you’ve known you could do whatever you wanted to me—but you never wanted to.”
“You’ve got it wrong.”
She gave him a look that said “oh, come on.” “Then what’s been stopping you?”
“I just wanted you to—” He broke off, darted his hand over his head. “This doesn’t reflect well on me, but…I was piqued at how unmoved you were by the whole idea of sex with me. All that talk about technique and experience, but no real sign there was anything about me in particular that was special. And I wanted to make you acknowledge I was important. Not because of my skills—oh, my God, I can’t believe I’m talking about myself like this, what a total wanker, please don’t tell Sarah—but because it’s me.”
Adam looked at her—a stressed-out version of the watch-wait thing—as that eloquent speech worked its way through Lane’s brain.
“And you know,” he jumped in, before she could fully digest it, “you haven’t exactly been falling all over yourself—or over me—with uncontrollable desire. You’ve always hung back, cautious. You’ve given me a complex.”
She snorted. “You do not have a complex.”
“No thanks to you!”
She wiggled her tense fingers behind her back. “I have wanted to fall all over you, Adam, but I’m just not confident enough to do it.”
“So fall now. I’m here.”
“Really, you’re sure? It’s no more difficult to make love to me than to anyone else?” she asked. “Even though I don’t ooze sex appeal like you do?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. Actually, it could be a lot easier to make love to you.”
“Yes, well a legally binding contract is pretty encouraging,” Lane retorted.
“Forget the contract for a minute. What you said just hit me. Do you really think I ooze sex appeal?”
She looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Oh, for God’s sake!”
Big grin. “Really, Lane?”
But Lane just waved a hand at him. It was so obvious it didn’t require anything to be said. She just had one more question, and she was going to sound so pathetic. She steeled herself to look at him. “What about the fact that you hate it when I touch you?”
His startled eyes shot to hers. “What the fu—”
“Remember after I touched your…you know… And you said there was…a problem with the way I…touched you that made it impossible to proceed? You said all men would have that problem with me.”
“When you touched my you know?” He stopped, and laughed helplessly.
“It’s not funny.”
“Lane, Lane, Lane. I don’t know exactly what I said—as I recall I was too far gone in lust to respond with more than one neuron—but it wasn’t anything about not liking you to touch me. It would have been more a case of liking it too much. So much that I was about to lose control of myself.” He stopped, smiled suddenly. “I knew I’d stuffed that up. Really, I am an idiot.”
“I thought—” Lane broke off. He did want her. He did. Move on. Move on, Lane. “Then…can I touch you now?” she asked. “I mean, do you want me to touch you?”
In answer, he pulled her into his arms. “Kiss me, Lane.”
Rising up on her toes, Lane tentatively fitted her mouth to his. Instantly his arms tightened around her, vice-like. She grew bolder, flicking her tongue across his lips, darting it into his mouth, because she loved it when he did that to her.
“A kiss is always a good place to start,” he said huskily when she paused at last. “And now put your hands on my face.”
She did, tracing the tiny lines around his eyes, feeling his dark eyebrows, then sliding her fingertips along the firm curve of his mouth. Soon, that exploration wasn’t enough, and her hands were at his jaw, then dipping lower, into the hollow of throat revealed through the open neck of his shirt.
Before long, she was tugging his shirt free of his jeans, sliding her hands up inside, against the skin of his stomach, tracing the line of rough hair up to his chest, skimming around each nipple. Impatiently, she pushed his shirt up so that she could see where her hands wandered.
The champagne. What he’d done to her. Could she taste him like that…?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she dipped her finger into her glass and traced his nipples, ducking her head to suck first one, then the other.
“Lane,” he said in a strange voice.
She had been so intent on what she was doing, the strangled voice startled her.
She looked up quickly. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No, sweetheart,” he said, strained. “But we need to do this. Like right now.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really. Right. Now.”
She ducked her head, gave each of his nipples one last flick with her tongue. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, yes.”
“About time.”
Chapter Ten
It took ages to get to the bedroom. But Adam didn’t mind, because the delay was the result of Lane halting him with a touch every step he took, running her hands over his backside, up inside his shirt, across his back, his neck, his chest, his hair, down his arms…anywhere she could reach.
It seemed that now she had the green light to touch him, Lane was never going to stop. Every time he moaned, she giggled with delight, and that only made him want her more. They finally made it into the bedroom and she all but threw herself into his arms.
“Stand still,” he growled at her when she wriggled against him.
For an instant, she hesitated.
Then he added, “I can’t undress you if you’re dancing around like a jumping bean.”
The uncertain look in her eyes vanished. “But I’m going to undress you first,” she told him. Then she spoiled her air of assurance by asking, “Can I?” She waited for his permission to proceed, looking up at him in a way that suggested both trust and uncertainty. And Adam wondered who was teaching whom about seduction.
He set his jaw and said a little grimly, “You can do whatever you want, sweetheart. But for God’s sake, be quick.”
She wasn’t quick.
She slid his shirt off with languorous strokes of her hands. Undid his jeans one button at a slow time—groan, should have worn a zipper fly—making sure she flicked her fingers against the very large proof of his desire with every button. She moved the jeans sensuously do
wn his legs, hands smoothing along in their wake, making him say shakily, “Not sure you really need these lessons.”
At last he was naked, every cell in his body straining against the need to throw her down on the bed and dive inside her. “My turn,” he said, the heavy look in his eyes promising retribution.
Retribution he delivered, kissing her as though he were trying to suck her inside his body, barely breaking the contact to remove her dress for the second time with hands that shook so badly he was thanking God there were no buttons involved. Next, he ran his hands over her panties. “Nice,” he breathed against her mouth, and then tugged them down just far enough so that his fingers could dive inside and slide over her.
“Adam, please,” she groaned, but he took his time, and when he finally pulled the wisp of lace down, he did it fraction by fraction, making sure his fingers brushed against her repeatedly as he did it, so that by the time she was naked she was gripping him hard enough to leave nail dents in his skin and panting with excitement.
Then he held her away from him and looked at her. Slowly, from her head to her toes and back again. “I want you so much,” he said. Then he took her in his arms, held her for the longest moment against him and felt her heart thudding wildly against the erratic beating of his own. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Lane nodded. “Show me,” she breathed.
He took her hand, led her to the bed and laid her gently on the covers.
With a shuddering kind of sigh, he sat beside her. Slowly, he reached out with one hand, tracing the features of her face. His fingers trembled over one of her cheekbones then moved up to her forehead and down the center of her small, straight nose. Lane’s own hand reached up to touch his face, mirroring his exploration. When her hand reached his mouth, he sucked her fingers inside.
Immediately, she did the same to him, sucking until he found the erotic pull of her mouth too much…and yet not enough. He withdrew his fingers, his hand moving to continue his exploration of her body.
He stroked every inch of her. Circling her nipples with his fingers, pinching gently, smoothing, stroking. Trailing his hand over her ribs, down to her navel, her hips. Leaving that one weeping, secret place between her legs until last. “You’re beautiful here,” he said, at last threading his fingers through the dark copper curls.
When Lane was sure she would melt from the heat pooling so close to his fingers, he finally moved his hand again, slipping his fingers inside her. “And here. Hot, and wet.”
She arched off the bed, a hoarse cry ripping from her throat. “I don’t think I can bear any more waiting.”
“Soon, sweetheart. Let me touch you first. You feel…exquisite.” He bent his head to her breast, taking her nipple deep into his mouth. “And you taste…mmm.”
Whimpering against his neck, she let him touch her. Let his wonderful mouth and his clever fingers work their magic, playing on her, over her.
“Please, I’m begging you. Begging,” she moaned, and he felt a kind of madness burst in his head. His touch turned frantic, his breath coming in short rasps.
Oh. My. God. Begging. She was begging. She was his. “Open for me, open,” he demanded, and instantly, she adjusted herself, making it easier for him to move between her thighs.
“Hurry, Adam,” she said, almost sobbing. “I want this. I need you.”
At first, he stayed poised at the very entrance of her, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. Then, slowly, slowly, he moved against her. He would make this good for her, he vowed, clamping down on his rampant need with iron-hard control. It had to be wonderful. Slow, delicious, sweet.
The tightness stopped him for a moment. God in heaven. He’d never felt so big, so close to losing it. Tremors ran through his body as he forced himself to pause, putting his arms around her. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” He whispered the question against her cheek.
In answer, she arched her hips helplessly against him.
He pulled back just far enough to gaze into her eyes. Then he smiled, settled his lips on hers, and slid fully into her body. And it was perfect. Perfect, perfect, so utterly perfect. Adam kissed her for two, three, four strokes, holding her so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe—and didn’t want to either.
“That’s wonderful,” Lane said.
“Don’t I know it,” Adam responded, with a shaky half laugh, half moan, and kissed her hard again.
She started moving her pelvis, matching him thrust for thrust. She didn’t have the rhythm quite right, but it was unbelievably good. Adam could feel an orgasm rushing toward him and desperately tried to stop it, to wait for her.
Then Lane said, “Something’s happening,” and he knew it was going to be fine. Except that she sounded a little scared.
He wanted to slow down, soothe her, reassure her—but he couldn’t stop now. “It’ll be good, Lane, trust me,” he groaned, amazed he could manage to string together the thought, let alone get actual words out…because it was coming…ready to drown him…a wave of the most elemental pleasure, so strong….
Then she called his name and he felt her body begin to spasm around him. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his back as she held on, pushing herself frantically against him.
Adam watched her face as the waves broke, saw her lips form a soundless O, watched the O turn into a blinding smile…
And let himself go.
For long moments afterward, they lay still. Finally, he found the energy to move so that he wasn’t crushing her beneath his weight and slowly pulled out of her body, rolling to lie beside her, staring at the ceiling.
Lane was silent. Every now and then she reached out a hand and touched him—it was like she couldn’t believe it had happened—but she was totally silent.
“Well, Lane?”
“Well,” she said fervently.
He reached for her, nestling her close to his side. He wasn’t surprised she had no words. He couldn’t dredge up anything except a sense of wonder himself.
He’d been her second lover, but somehow, he felt like the first. He kissed her temple, so glad it was him lying there with her. His blood ran cold at the thought of what some other man might have done to Lane. At what that other man had done to her.
“Hey,” Lane said and Adam realized he’d hugged her a little too tight.
“Sorry.”
She lapsed into silence again. She was tracing patterns on his chest—and he was loving that, too.
“Can we do it again?” she asked.
“Yes, but Lane, aren’t you sore?”
“I wasn’t a virgin, Adam, you know that.”
“I know, but you’re not exactly at porn star status yet. And it can hurt the second time. And I’m…not small. And you’re so tight.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “I never thought I’d be having a discussion like this.”
Lane snuggled against him. “It was strange, but good, to feel so…well, filled? Is that an accurate description?”
Another shaky laugh. “It will do.”
“I want to do it again.”
“All right, but first, let me take care of you.”
“What do you mean?”
Adam headed for the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp cloth, which he pressed against her sex. Lane let him do what he wanted—as always—watching him quietly.
Then the cloth was gone and his fingers were there, softly stroking her, and she sighed with pleasure. She opened her arms to him, and he settled against her, slowly burying himself inside her. He moved gently in and out of her as he kissed her, wallowing in her, enjoying her trembling orgasm, then spilling himself inside her, silent and awed.
Lane fell asleep almost immediately, with Adam still held in her arms.
He carefully shifted so he was beside her and not crushing her. Propping himself up on an elbow and looking down at her, Adam felt the strangest wash of feeling. It took a few moments to identify it as fear.
He’d never experienced sex like this before, with tendernes
s and protectiveness, and a sort of desperation, mixed in with the lust.
He didn’t want the contract in the way.
He didn’t want the contract at all.
He just wanted her.
Fear.
It was definitely fear.
He tried to push the feeling aside by reminding himself that in his experience, familiarity bred contempt. He was fairly sure that principle was going to hold good in two and a half months, by which time he would have done her six ways from Sunday and their deal would be over and she would be ready for David.
Who, Adam suddenly decided, he was not going to ask about. Because of course the guy wasn’t a serial killer. And barring that, it was none of his business what happened post-contract.
He didn’t care what happened.
Did. Not. Care.
Could not care.
* * *
Over the next month, Lane got more lessons than she would have believed possible.
It was mind-boggling how at ease she felt with Adam. It seemed so easy to touch him; whenever she did—even if all she did was push her fingers through his short hair—he would give her one of his bone-melting looks and put his hands all over her.
There was the “bodies as plates” lesson, a delicious evening with a creative use of strawberries and cream. The “feet are sexy” lesson—and who would have guessed that having your feet nibbled on could make every other part of your body quiver? When she went to Melbourne to give a presentation on the current account deficit, she got the “phone sex” lesson, with Adam managing to get her wonderfully—if uncomfortably—aroused by telling her in graphic detail what he was imagining doing to her.
They’d played strip poker, which had ended in a lovemaking session made more heated because they’d had a fight over Adam’s blatant cheating during the game. They’d done the spanking thing—which had seemed silly to her but was nevertheless uber erotic. She’d even been treated to the royal flush at a restaurant overlooking Sydney Harbour. She’d just finished a delicious lunch of grilled swordfish, when Adam—who’d been surreptitiously keeping an eye on bathroom traffic, had grabbed her hand and dragged her to the restroom, hustling her into a cubicle. “Quick, while we’re alone” he’d said, spinning her. “Hands on the cistern, Lane—come on, hurry or it’s no fun!” Skirt hiked up, panties shoved down—that’s all it had taken for her to be ready—and he had plunged straight in. They’d heard someone come in, but he didn’t even pause, just buried his mouth against her neck to stifle his groans while she bit her lips hard to suppress the odd combination of moans and laughter. At the end, she’d been laughing so much, she really had almost fallen face-first into the toilet.
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