by Nicola Marsh
He could feel heat radiating off her and smell her subtle floral perfume, tempting him to swipe his tongue along the underside of her jaw towards her ear, in order to elicit a sharp gasp.
‘We’re in public,’ she said, but she leaned into him so that their chests brushed, sending a jolt to his cock.
‘Not for long.’
He snagged her hand and tugged her towards the dressing rooms, discreetly tucked into the back of the shop.
‘You can’t come in here...’ Her protest died when he did just that, flipping the lock behind them.
‘Relax,’ he said, gritting down on the urge to strip her naked and see if that tantalising blush extended all over her body. ‘The people who work here must be used to seeing men checking out their women in the dressing rooms.’
‘Pervert,’ she muttered, but a coy smile curved her lips. ‘Though it’s kind of kinky and I’ve never done this before.’
‘Strip down to your underwear for a guy?’
The blush intensified. ‘Buy risqué lingerie.’ She squared her shoulders and held out her hand. ‘Give me those.’
Her boldness surprised him and he handed the sets over, his pulse pounding in anticipation.
‘Turn around.’ She made a spinning action with her finger, before jabbing him in the chest with it. ‘I’ll let you see the finished product but only if you don’t peek.’
‘Spoilsport,’ he muttered, folding his arms in a mock sulk, so she jabbed him again.
‘Or I can boot you out of here. Your choice,’ she said, with a nonchalant shrug.
There was zero chance he’d be leaving this dressing room without seeing her in that lingerie, absolutely none, so he spun around, lust thrumming through him.
If he’d thought watching her undress would be a massive turn-on, it had nothing on listening to the sounds of her disrobing. The unzipping of her skirt, the buttons slithering through the buttonholes of her blouse, the rustling of stepping out of panties...
He gritted his teeth and bit back a groan. This so wasn’t him. He’d liked plenty of women over the years and while he wasn’t a man whore he didn’t do relationships beyond a few dates. But Polly was in a different category altogether because of their longstanding friendship, and their sizzling encounter had only served to make him want more.
He wanted to know all her secrets—where she liked to be licked, where her most ticklish spots were, what she tasted like...
His cock strained against his fly and a fine sweat broke out on his brow. He knew once he turned around and caught sight of her in that sexy get-up it would take every ounce of self-control not to fuck her on the spot.
‘Okay, I’m done,’ she murmured, soft and uncertain.
He took a deep breath and blew it out before swivelling around.
Hot damn.
The image of Polly standing in front of him, the sheer burgundy lace revealing more than it hid, the way it clung to her curves, would be burned on his retinas for ever.
Her timorous expression made him want to hug her tight but her eyes didn’t lie; she was just as turned on by this sexy little parade as he was.
When he finally unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth, he murmured, ‘Wow.’
It was a totally underwhelming response because Polly in that sexy lingerie was beyond wow. Considering his thundering heart, pounding pulse and straining cock, it was closer to catastrophic.
‘I’ve never done this before.’ She rubbed one foot on top of the other, endearingly bashful. ‘You’re definitely a bad influence on me.’
‘Sweetheart, you have no idea the influence you’re having on me in that get-up,’ he said, covering the short distance between them to snag her hand and press it against his fly. ‘Or maybe you do?’
A sexy smile played about her mouth. ‘Yeah, I had a fair idea.’
‘Vixen,’ he muttered, brushing a kiss across her lips. ‘Turn around and face the mirror.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
He loved it that she trusted him. There was a lot to be said for almost twenty years of friendship, even if they’d been at each other’s throats for most of that.
This woman had alternated between teasing him and infuriating him for so long they’d fallen into some kind of weird prolonged foreplay. Last night had been a release, a culmination of all that pent-up sexual tension. He may not be in town for long but he could think of nothing better than having sex with Polly, repeatedly, as a way to distract him from the tension of being back in a city he’d rather avoid.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, pressing his front to her back, sliding one arm around her to splay his hand against her stomach, the other pressed lower. Grazing her with the lightest brush of his fingertips. Tugging on the lace so that the buttons on the crotch popped.
Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. ‘I didn’t know it did that.’
‘Most bodysuits do.’
‘A man who knows his lingerie. I’m pretty sure I should be appalled but I kind of like the fact you’re so knowledgeable.’
‘Why?’
Their gazes locked in the mirror. ‘Because I’m a very willing student and I’m sure you’d be up for teaching me.’
‘So does that mean you’re up for dating?’
‘Who said anything about dating?’ She lowered her hand and slowly peeled the bottom of the bodysuit upwards and he let out a groan as his hungry gaze zeroed in on her pussy.
Trimmed, neat, but a full bush, such a rarity in these days of Brazilians. He loved it.
‘Is it the lingerie making you this bold or have you been hiding your inner sex kitten from me all these years?’
‘A little of both,’ she murmured, taking hold of his hand and sliding it lower.
It was such a fucking turn-on having her take charge and having her watch as he slid his middle finger between her folds, zeroing in on her clit.
She gasped as he applied pressure, circling the hard nub over and over until she made small panting sounds, while his other hand palmed her breast.
She arched back against him and he lowered his mouth to nibble on her neck, short, sharp bites followed by slow, soothing sweeps of his tongue that had her writhing.
‘I’m close, Ryder,’ she whispered, their gazes locking in the mirror. Her willingness to let him finger her to orgasm in a dressing room proved exactly how much he’d underestimated this amazing woman all these years.
His finger circled her clit faster as he plucked at a nipple through the lace between his thumb and forefinger, over and over, until she made a small whimpering sound and tensed.
‘Shh... I’ve got you,’ he murmured, a second before she came apart, biting down on her bottom lip so hard he saw a speck of blood.
When she sagged against him, he gently turned her around and kissed her, slow and sensual. But he had to stop because they’d been hiding in here long enough and he had no intention of being busted by the lingerie police. The next time he and Polly had sex, he wanted to make it last.
‘We need to get out of here.’
Dazed, she lifted her head. ‘What about you?’
‘We have all night.’
He intended on making it count.
CHAPTER NINE
POLLY LOVED SYDNEY’S hip vibe but she rarely spent time in the city centre, let alone trendy Circular Quay, so it was surreal to be sitting on the balcony of Ryder’s plush suite-only hotel overlooking the Harbour Bridge with the lights of Luna Park twinkling in the distance.
She knew he’d made a success of himself but this one-bedroom suite with the million-dollar view was next level.
‘Here you go.’ He handed her a glass filled to the brim with milk and pulled up a seat close enough that their knees touched.
‘I can’t believe you remembered my favourite drink.’ She raised it in
his direction. ‘Thanks.’
‘And I can’t believe anyone would drink milk with cocoa, doctored with brandy.’
‘Don’t knock it till you try it,’ she said, taking a healthy slurp and smacking her lips. ‘So good.’
‘You’re a lunatic.’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘With very bad taste.’
‘Especially in men, present company included,’ she said, with a smirk, raising her glass in his direction. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
He laughed, reminding her how much she’d missed this. She’d always loved their sparring and, thankfully, getting physical hadn’t tampered with it.
It had been her greatest fear all these years and one of the reasons why she’d never made a move. She’d been terrified that sex with Ryder would change their friendship and she’d end up regretting it. And while she may have been avoiding him today because her head was spinning from last night, the fact she’d urged him to give her an orgasm in a public dressing room an hour ago made her feel wanton and alive in a way she never could’ve anticipated.
‘You’re thinking about the lingerie,’ he said, raising his beer to his lips and taking a deep pull before lowering it.
‘How do you know?’
‘You get this look in your eyes...’ His gaze fixed on her mouth, before lifting to meet hers, hot and intense. ‘It’s a big fucking turn-on.’
‘So I noticed.’ She deliberately stared at his dick and he waggled a finger.
‘Stop doing that. I want to take this slow tonight.’
‘Why, when last night’s quickie was so much fun?’
The glint of amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by something she could almost label as tenderness. It was crazy, because they didn’t have that kind of relationship. What they had was two friends having sex. A fun, light-hearted connection for however long it lasted. Not that she’d anticipated anything beyond one night but her brazen behaviour in that dressing room, combined with the fact she’d agreed to come back to his place, pretty much guaranteed they’d end up in bed.
It would’ve fazed her once but it didn’t because the sky hadn’t fallen in and the earth hadn’t split open after they’d had sex. If anything, it made their banter more fun and that was what she needed in her life right now. A little healthy distraction from the fact she was failing at work and wouldn’t get a shot at her dream job.
For an intelligent, independent woman, there was something about her ogre boss that made her feel inadequate and she hated it. She’d felt the same around her mum and that soul-destroying feeling of not being good enough was hard to shake, even after all these years.
‘Are we going to discuss the fact we had sex and what’s going to happen because of it?’
Uh-oh. The conversation they had to have but the one she’d been dreading. Talking about it could lead to him learning about her long-term crush and that was the last thing she wanted. He’d instantly pull away because he’d fear he would hurt her in the end and last night had been too good, too much fun, to quit now.
‘I know what I’d like to happen.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘The sex was pretty damn exceptional and I want more.’
His eyes glittered with excitement and something she could almost label as caution. ‘You know that sex is all it ever can be, right? I’m not a keeper.’
She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the sliver of hurt at hearing him articulate the truth even if she already knew it. ‘You like playing the field, I get it.’
He arched a brow. ‘It doesn’t bother you that sex could complicate our friendship?’
‘Considering we haven’t kept in contact in years, beyond seeing you when you occasionally visit Sydney and Archie organises something, I’d say our friendship isn’t that much of a big deal.’
Her dry response garnered a short burst of laughter devoid of amusement. ‘Still the same pragmatic Polly.’
She hated how he viewed her that way, good old rational, sensible, logical Polly. She’d sex that view out of him if it killed her.
‘And in the spirit of pragmatism, I understand last night was just about sex. For some unfathomable reason, you set your sights on flirting with me on this trip rather than our usual caustic sparring, I responded and we ended up screwing.’ She felt heat flush her cheeks and wished she wasn’t so damn easy to read. ‘Nothing more, nothing less. The sex was great, I want more, so let’s shelve this discussion because there’s no chance of emotional entanglement, okay?’
He pinned her with an astute stare that had her resisting the urge to squirm. She took a long slug of brandy-infused milk, desperate to calm her thundering heart.
Because she’d lied. Sleeping with Ryder would inevitably involve emotions—mainly hers getting trampled on—considering how long she’d wanted this, wanted him.
‘You talk the talk, Pol, but I really hope you mean it.’ He emptied half his beer. ‘We like each other. We’ll date for as long as I’m in Sydney, but that’s it. I can’t give you anything else.’
She schooled her face into a neutral expression despite her disappointment. Of course he couldn’t give her anything else. The renowned playboy would leave sooner rather than later in search of his next challenge. She knew the score and she was willing to play the game.
‘Dating is a euphemism for fucking, yeah?’
His eyes widened in surprise before he chuckled. ‘Of course. I told Archie I wanted to date you. I had to make it sound legit.’
Shock rendered her speechless, before she gave a quick shake of her head. ‘You did what?’
‘I told him at lunch today.’ He shrugged, like it meant little, him facing up to her overprotective brother. ‘After what happened last night I knew I wanted you again and keeping it from him would be deceptive, so I told him the truth.’
‘You told him we had sex?’ Her voice had risen to a screech and he chuckled.
‘Not exactly.’ He clinked his beer bottle against her glass. ‘He didn’t seem all that surprised.’
Archie may act like a layabout builder who told rude jokes on building sites and hung out with the boys at sleazy ‘Schnitz and Tits’ nights at the pub, but he’d always been intuitive when it came to her. She knew he’d probably suspected her crush on Ryder, though he’d never mentioned it.
‘He’s seen the way we spar. The doofus probably misread it as sexual tension.’ Which it had been on her part for a long time. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘Why now? Why flirt with me this time when you’ve never done that before?’
He hesitated, his gaze shifting away before refocussing on her with a cheeky glint. ‘It’s my thing these days, Pol. Flirting comes as naturally as breathing to me and when you responded I couldn’t believe my luck.’
It was exactly as she’d suspected. His flirting had meant nothing; she’d let her own latent feelings flare, and he’d run with it. She didn’t blame him; what guy wouldn’t want to take things further when given the go-ahead? But it irked just the same that she was nothing more than yet another one of his women in a long line that had succumbed to his charms.
‘So we’re good?’ His goofy smile made her want to clamber onto his lap and hug him tight. ‘We hook up while I’m in Sydney and walk away at the end, no hard feelings?’
He made it sound so easy. It would be, if she didn’t let her stupid heart get in the way of a good sexcapade.
‘As long as something else is hard.’ She deadpanned, and he laughed.
‘You always had a great sense of humour,’ he said.
‘One of my many good qualities.’ She drained the milk, savouring the burn of the brandy warming her from the inside out. Or that could be Ryder’s smouldering gaze. ‘Seeing as we’re being so honest with each other, tell me why you’re staying in this fabulous suite and not at your gran’s place?’
Just like that, Ryder shut down.
Shadows clouded his eyes, his lips compressed into a thin line and he half turned away to stare at the incredible view of Sydney at night.
He sat ramrod straight, his back rigid, his shoulders bunched with tension. His jaw jutted slightly, as if he was clenching his teeth too hard. She knew he’d never been close to his gran. He wouldn’t have spent all that time at their place otherwise and he’d never talked about her. But Polly had definitely hit a nerve with her innocuous question and she wished they could regain the easy-going camaraderie of a few moments ago.
When he didn’t answer, she tapped his knee. ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
His short, sharp response held a hint of pain and she mentally cursed herself for changing the mood. He’d switched from playful to shut off in an instant.
‘Problems with your gran?’
His jaw clenched, a tiny vein pulsing near his ear, before he eventually answered. ‘Do you remember much about her when we were neighbours?’
Considering Edie Beale rarely left the house, Polly didn’t. She would catch the occasional glimpse of the well-dressed woman with coiffed hair, but Edie had never acknowledged her. At one stage Polly had made it a game, to give an exaggerated wave every time she saw the woman, but Edie would always stare straight ahead and stride down her path with purpose before getting into a car that had a driver.
She’d teased Ryder about it. The first time he’d squished a spider on her head in retaliation, the second he’d dumped a bunch of wriggling worms in her lap, so she hadn’t pushed for a third. But she figured the Beales had a lot more money than her family, though Ryder didn’t act like it. It made her like him all the more.
‘I remember your gran being aloof, that’s about it.’
‘She was like that with me too,’ he said, so softly she had to lean forward to hear it. ‘When Pop died she shut down.’
‘I’m sorry—’
‘She blamed me.’ His bark of laughter held no amusement. ‘Apparently my behaviour made his heart give out. Which was a total crock of shit considering the old man hated my guts and never held back.’
