by Kate Hardy
Clearly it hadn’t.
Disappointment plummeted in her stomach.
‘I’m not expecting you to make love with me.’
Which was a good thing—wasn’t it?
‘But,’ he added huskily, ‘if you choose to stay with me tonight, I’d…’ He blew out a breath and removed his tie. ‘Ah, hell. I’m just about hanging onto my last shreds of self-control. I want to take that dress off you, Jane. Right here, right now.’
He’d made it clear that this was just about here and now. Not the future. Tomorrow was another day—the first day of the rest of their lives, when they’d never see each other again.
She should be sensible and refuse.
But it wasn’t every day you were twenty-five.
It wasn’t every day you had the chance to spend just one night with a man who took your breath away. Pure pleasure, with no consequences.
She smiled, took a step forward and undid the top button of his shirt.
CHAPTER THREE
MITCH went absolutely still, so Jane undid the next button. And the next. And then she untucked his shirt from his trousers and undid all the rest of the buttons.
He looked amazing. Bare-chested, slightly dishevelled—she’d really messed up his hair when she’d kissed him in the taxi—and mouth-wateringly sexy. She wanted to touch him. And then touch him some more.
He shrugged off his jacket; she splayed her hands against his bare chest, then slid them down his washboard-flat abdomen. His musculature was perfect; he felt as good as he looked. ‘This isn’t from working out in a gym, is it?’ she asked, stroking his pectorals.
There was a slight edge to his smile. ‘What do you think?’
‘I can’t see you as a gym gorilla.’
‘I need to be fit for my work. I run, most days.’
She traced his collar-bones with her middle finger. ‘Do you know how hot you look, in that prissy white shirt?’ she whispered.
‘Prissy?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re calling me prissy?’
‘Yup.’ She touched the tip of her tongue to the hollow of his collar-bones. ‘And hot.’
He sucked in a breath. ‘Is that why you took my photograph on the South Bank, this morning?’
She nodded. ‘It had to be a tall, dark, handsome stranger. And even though you looked in a seriously bad mood, you were irresistible.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘So are you undressing me, or what?’
She nodded. ‘I’m just taking my time about it. Enjoying the view.’
He smiled. ‘Would this be the champagne talking?’
‘Partly,’ she admitted. ‘But I know exactly what I’m doing. And I have no regrets whatsoever.’
He stole a kiss. ‘No regrets. Sounds good to me. It’s a deal.’
She slipped her hands inside his shirt and drew her palms down his sides, touching warm, soft, smooth skin. ‘You feel beautiful.’
‘That’s not fair. I haven’t touched you yet.’ He coughed. ‘You’re wearing too much.’
She pursed her lips and wiggled her hips. ‘What are you going to do about it, then, storm boy?’
‘What I wanted to do when I saw you in that dress for the first time, tonight.’ His gaze held hers as he reached out, unzipped her dress, then pushed the material from her shoulders and let it slide to the floor in a puddle. ‘Mmm. Gorgeous.’ He traced her collar-bones, echoing the way she’d touched him. And then he raised the stakes by drawing one finger slowly down her sternum to the vee between her breasts, making her shiver.
She wanted to step forward and jam her mouth to his. But there was something she had to deal with, first. ‘These are going to crease. As I said, no regrets. And I would hate to spoil these.’ She stepped out of her dress and picked it up, together with his jacket, then hung his jacket over the back of a dining chair, shook the folds out of her dress and laid it neatly on top of his jacket.
Mitch chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’ She frowned at him. Was he laughing at her?
‘I should’ve guessed that would bother you, leaving clothes on the floor.’
‘So you’re telling me you’re a slob?’
He lifted one shoulder in an elegant half-shrug. ‘I told you, I live out of a suitcase. My clothes don’t usually see an iron.’
‘Your shirt was ironed today.’
‘Laundry service,’ he told her with a grin. ‘Harry’s attempt to civilise me enough for a meeting. That’s where you and I are poles apart: I’m used to chaos, and you’re used to absolute order.’
Well, of course. Given the millions of documents where she worked, if things weren’t exactly in their place you’d never be able to retrieve them. She’d learned to be meticulous about keeping things in the right place, putting things away before they were damaged or lost. And yet his work involved tornadoes, the ultimate in disorder. How opposite could you get? ‘“East is East and West is West?”’ she quoted.
He gave her the sexiest, most predatory smile she’d ever seen. ‘Ah, but I’m looking forward to the twain meeting.’
The fact he knew the quotation and could cap it made a shiver of desire run through her. He had a gorgeous voice. What she’d give to hear him reading poetry. Donne, Marvell—Catullus. And then acting out the poet’s suggestions…
She dragged in a breath. ‘We might have a problem there. Because you’re wearing a lot more than I am.’
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘I’m a man of action. You’re a woman of words.’
‘Challenge accepted,’ she said, and slid the shirt from his shoulders.
He was just perfect. He had an athlete’s physique: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, defined upper arms. There was a light sprinkling of hair on his chest—not so much to be off-putting, but not boyish either.
There was nothing boyish at all about Mitch Holland.
He was six feet of pure man.
‘Hmm. So I’m bare-chested.’ He traced a finger along the lacy edge of her bra. ‘You, on the other hand, are not.’
‘Ah, but I’m not wearing my dress. And you’re still wearing trousers.’
He gave her a broad, inviting smile.
So he thought she’d chicken out, did he? And he’d called her a woman of words. His opposite. Well, she’d show him that she could be a woman of action. She reached out. Unbuckled his belt. Undid the button at his waistband. Took the tab of his zip between fingers she willed not to shake, and slowly drew it down. She could feel his erection pressing against her as she pulled the zip downwards; there was absolutely no way he could deny that he was turned on. She had physical proof that he was as aroused as she was.
She pushed the material downwards so his trousers fell over his hips and pooled around his ankles. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers—and she noted that he removed his socks at the same time.
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because there was a twinkle in his eye when he said, ‘Socks aren’t sexy.’
No, but those soft black jersey jockey shorts were. Incredibly sexy. She breathed in deeply. ‘Tights aren’t sexy, either.’
‘Then allow me to help you.’ He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her half-slip and her tights, and slid them both down together.
Oh, lord. She’d never been undressed like this before. Slowly. By a man with eyes that were hungry for just her.
He stroked her buttocks and thighs as he uncovered her skin, then dropped to his knees before her. He made her lift one foot so he could remove her shoe and then peel her tights off; he caressed her instep as he bared it, then did the same with her other foot.
It was enough to make her knees go weak. A man who found an erogenous zone she hadn’t even known existed.
He rocked back slightly and looked up at her. ‘What a view,’ he said, his voice husky. He brushed her inner thigh with his mouth. ‘I want you, Jane. More than I’ve wanted
anyone in a long, long time.’
The words thrilled her. So it was the same for him. This urgent need. Wanting to touch and stroke and taste until the desire bubbled over and exploded. ‘That makes two of us,’ she admitted.
Tonight was just tonight. No consequences. So there was something they needed to do, first. ‘Condoms? You have some?’ If not, she was pretty sure she did. Somewhere in her bag. At least, she hoped she had. If they had to call a halt now, the frustration would drive her insane.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll take care of you.’
‘Just for tonight.’
‘Just for tonight,’ he confirmed. He rose to his feet and linked his fingers through hers. ‘Come to bed, Jane. Make love with me.’
‘Bed?’ She stared at the sofa.
‘Ah, yes.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘One time when a hotel room might have been more useful. Hold that thought a moment.’
Deftly, he turned the sofa into a bed, then opened a cupboard and took out the duvet and pillows. When he’d finished making the bed, he sat on the edge and held out his hand.
Silently, she went over to him. He pulled her onto his lap. ‘I’ve wanted to do this ever since this morning,’ he said, his voice soft and husky with desire.
‘Since you kissed me in the café?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘And I want to kiss you now,’ he whispered. ‘Properly.’ He cupped her face and caught her lower lip between his. She opened her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. He slid the tip of his tongue against hers, teasing and demanding at the same time.
When her fingers tangled in his hair, he moved his hands. Slid them down her neck, stroking and soothing and promising. Then over her shoulders, pushing the straps of her bra down as she moved. He was still kissing her when one hand trailed its way between her shoulder blades and deftly unclasped her bra; finally, he let her breasts spill into his hands, taking their weight and cupping them, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples.
She shivered, and he broke the kiss.
‘You feel amazing,’ he said softly.
And then he looked.
His breath hissed. ‘You’re beautiful. Perfect,’ he said.
She wasn’t sure which of them moved, but then she was straddling him. She could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her, just as it had when he’d kissed her on the hillside at Greenwich.
Mitch kissed her mouth again, then traced a path across to her ear, down the sensitive cord at the side of her neck, and then finally, finally took one nipple into his mouth and sucked. She gasped and slid her fingers into his hair, the pressure of her fingertips urging him on. When he switched sides and paid attention to her other breast, she was rocking against him, needing more, getting nearer and nearer to the edge.
He slid one finger under the edge of her knickers and drew a fingertip along the length of her sex. When he touched her clitoris, she shivered.
‘You like that?’ he murmured against her ear, his breath fanning her skin.
Right at that moment, when he was circling her with clever fingers that seemed to know exactly how and where she liked being touched, she wasn’t capable of speaking proper words. ‘Mmm.’
‘Good.’ He continued stroking her, lightly enough to tease her and yet firmly enough to make her desire rise higher and higher and higher. He nuzzled between her breasts, then slowly kissed his way upwards.
Breathing was difficult. Seriously difficult. Every sensation in her body seemed to be concentrated around his hand and his mouth. She tipped her head back, offering him her throat; when he traced a necklace of kisses across it, she quivered against his hand. So close, so very close…
And then he stopped.
She dragged her eyelids open and stared at him. It felt as if she were suspended in space, as if she’d been spinning in a whirlwind and suddenly everything had stopped, gone calm. The eye of the storm.
‘What’s wrong?’
He smiled. ‘Nothing. I’m just not ready for you to come, yet.’
‘I…That’s not fair, Mitch.’
‘Storms are more spectacular,’ he said, ‘when they build slowly. When the pressure changes and the air starts to spin, warm chasing cold. Then it picks up speed. Gets more intense. And then, when the storm hits…’ his eyes glittered ‘…everything shatters.’
‘And that’s what you’re planning to do to me?’
He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘With you. Because I’m going to be there too, all the way.’ He gently moved her off his lap onto the bed, then stripped off his shorts, stood up and walked over to a cupboard.
She watched him, mesmerised. The way he walked…Naked, he was beautiful. The perfect rear view. Enough to make her wish she could paint.
He rummaged in the cupboard, and she watched the play of muscles across his back.
And then he turned to face her, and she forgot to breathe.
She’d never seen a man she’d wanted more.
And tonight, he was all hers.
Tonight.
Because right now he had a handful of condoms. Condoms he hadn’t bought when they’d gone shopping earlier. So he’d been prepared for something to happen. Did he always have them on him, just in case, as she did? Or because he was never in one place long: did he do this everywhere? Find a woman who took his fancy and spend the night with her?
As if he’d guessed her thoughts, he said softly, ‘It’s not a case of a new town, a new girl. I’m picky.’ A corner of his mouth lifted. ‘And I could point out that I’m not the one who started all this.’
‘All I did was take a photograph,’ she defended herself. ‘I wasn’t the one who introduced kissing into the equation.’
‘Because you were too chicken.’ The challenge in his eyes made something tighten deep in her belly. ‘Are you too chicken now?’
She lifted her chin. ‘No.’
‘Then do it,’ he said, stretching out on the bed beside her and propping himself up on one elbow. ‘Kiss me.’
She reached up to him and did as he said. Slid her tongue against his lower lip and teased him into opening his mouth beneath hers. Let her hand drift down over his ribcage, across his side, over the curve of his buttocks.
‘You’re beautiful,’ she said softly as she broke the kiss.
‘So are you,’ he said. ‘Perfect curves. A real woman, not a stick insect.’ He stroked the curve of her hip, cupped one breast. ‘And no, that isn’t an oblique way of calling you fat. You’re soft and feminine and you turn me on. Big time. I want to touch you. Kiss you all over. Taste you until you’re quivering and your head is spinning.’
‘I thought,’ she said, ‘I was supposed to be the one of words and you were the one of action?’
He laughed. ‘Since you mention it…’ He dipped his head. Kissed the hollows of her throat, caressed her skin until she was near to purring. And then he removed her knickers, the last barrier between them.
‘Just you and me,’ he whispered, and stroked his way up the inside of her thighs. Touched her with his clever fingertips until she was quivering.
When he replaced his hands with his mouth, he fulfilled the promise he’d made. Her head was spinning. And just when she thought she’d reached the edge, he stopped. Leaving her dangling. One tiny touch would do it.
And he obviously knew that and intended to drive her crazy.
She dragged in a breath. ‘I think I hate you.’
‘No, you don’t.’
She opened her eyes and stared at him. ‘I do.’
He grinned. ‘I promise you, you won’t.’
He ripped open the foil packet and rolled the condom onto his erect penis. Then he knelt between her thighs. ‘Now?’ he asked softly.
‘Now,’ she agreed.
When his body eased into hers, she stopped thinking.
Just felt.
Pressure rising, rising, rising with every thrust. Not that he settled into a rhythm—just when she
thought he was taking it slowly, he pushed hard and fast, sending her near to spiralling over the edge. And then he calmed everything down again. Slow and easy. Keeping her right on the brink.
‘I’m going crazy, here,’ she whispered.
‘Good.’ He caught her lower lip between his, then slid his tongue into her mouth, mirroring the thrust of his body inside hers.
All she could do was wrap her legs round his waist and hold on.
Every nerve-end in her body felt incredibly sensitised. She could feel every hair on his chest brushing against her skin. Her nipples were so hard, they almost hurt. And her temperature was definitely rising to fever pitch.
And beyond, when Mitch slid one hand between them and began to rub her clitoris.
‘Oh-h-h—I…’ Her words faded into an incoherent babble.
‘Open your eyes. Look at me.’ His voice was so raw with passion, so deep, she simply did as he’d asked. Commanded.
He smiled at her, his grey-green eyes promising her everything.
One last thrust.
Then her climax crashed through her body. Just as he’d promised—when the storm hit, everything shattered.
And in his eyes she could see the exact moment the storm hit him, too. The same moment everything went wild. The only thing that was real was each other. And they held on very, very tight.
CHAPTER FOUR
MITCH woke early, the next morning, as normal.
Except there was nothing normal about this morning.
Because he was wrapped round a warm, soft, female body.
Jane Redmond.
The woman who’d blown into his life as fast as a storm brewed. And despite her gentle, sweet exterior, she was as dangerous as a tornado. Because, for the first time in years, he’d actually woken up with someone in his arms. Someone he knew instinctively it would be all too easy to let himself care about.
And he couldn’t. He really couldn’t let himself do that. He’d promised himself that in the dark days after Natalie. He’d never get involved again. Never risk his heart again.
Never.