He savoured the whiskey this time and the fire inside had nothing to do with the swallow. His smile was big and wide. ‘Yeah. She’s something, isn’t she?’
‘She’s…not what I’d have expected.’
‘No.’ He grinned again.
‘It’s serious between you?’
Daniel stared at the content of his glass and made an ambiguous ‘mmm’ response. Of course it wasn’t. But he had to quell the crazy urge to punch a fist in the air. His drifter bar manager was jealous. You could only be jealous when you cared.
So there was his certainty. Proof positive. Meaning her reluctance was surmountable. He wanted the next few hours to fast forward. He wanted to be back in his apartment—just him and her. It was definitely time to sort a few things out. Such as who was on top.
He took another sip of whiskey. She didn’t know it but Lucy had done him another favour. Now as far as Sarah was concerned he was well off the market. Excellent. Sarah had ‘interested’ and ‘power couple’ written all over her. Hell would freeze over first. While Sarah would know of his love-and-leave reputation, Daniel also knew she was as tenacious as a dog with a bone. He’d been careful not to give her even the slightest encouragement and now this should seal it completely.
Feeling happier than he had all week, he hid his smile from Lucy as she scowled at him. He was going to enjoy turning her into that sighing, sexy creature again. Meantime he could afford to turn the screws on her a little. She had a jealous wound? Time for a little salt. He sent Sarah and the boys out ahead of him. Then he approached her.
It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and haul her to him. He badly wanted to kiss her into submission. He wanted to see her body arch up to him, see her eyelids flutter, hear her moan of delight.
Soon.
‘Keep up the good work.’ He said it as patronisingly as he could—loving the fact that he’d be on the floor like a dead ant if her look had its way. ‘I’m taking Sarah home.’ He turned and winked. ‘Don’t wait up.’
CHAPTER NINE
You have good control over your desires and temptations
LUCY stomped about in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors and returning plates home from the dishwasher with more force than necessary. The night had dragged after Daniel had left. Bitter, she muttered nasty things under her breath. It was ridiculous given that she was the one who’d said no. And she’d been right to say no. She’d asked for everything he had to offer and promised him the same. The trouble was she had a lot more to give than him—a heart, for starters.
No sign he was home yet, so the nasty murmurings increased in audibility. He’d be cosied up to Sarah about now. Lucy would move out tomorrow. Even the dreaded hostel would be better than staying here. She’d go pack her bag now. That would make her feel better.
She turned to do just that and got the fright of her life to find Daniel standing right behind her.
‘Everything OK?’
Of course not. He was in boxers and nothing but. Not what she needed. Why didn’t he wear full-length pyjamas and a hideous dressing gown? She lashed out. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s my home. I was trying to sleep but that’s impossible with the racket you’re making.’ He took a step nearer. ‘Something the matter?’
‘No,’ she snapped, grabbing a glass from the shelf.
‘Why did you tell Sarah we’re living together?’
He shocked her with his directness. Uncomfortable heat rose in her cheeks. She tried to shrug it off. ‘We are living together.’
‘Under the same roof, sure, but that wasn’t the innocent impression Sarah got and I’m sure you didn’t mean it that innocently.’
She filled the glass with water. ‘I’m sorry if I made things difficult for you.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Pause. ‘For the record, I’m not and never have been interested in Sarah.’
‘Oh.’ She turned, her back right against the bench. He’d stepped even nearer. ‘She’s not your type?’
‘No.’
She feigned extreme interest in the glass of water. ‘You must be awfully hard to please.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. You did OK the other night.’
Smash. The glass hit the floor. She bent to it instantly. Heart thudding, she grabbed at the shards. ‘I’m as bad as Corey.’ Glass pierced as she tried to gather the bits—futile, seeing there was no way it could be glued back together. Her anger dissolved. Melancholy remained.
‘Stop. It’s only a glass. It doesn’t matter.’ He seized her wrist. ‘Don’t move. I don’t want you to cut your foot as well.’
Obediently she stayed still while he got a brush and dustpan and swept away the fragments, and she couldn’t help admiring his muscular legs and strong forearms. He wrapped the glass in paper and discarded it.
She stayed on the ground, hoping he’d leave before she threw herself at him.
He didn’t. ‘Let me see your hand.’ He crouched beside her so he could see her properly. ‘Lucy.’
She held out her hand. He took it and gently uncurled her fingers. A fine line of red crossed her palm.
‘I’ll get a plaster.’ He soft-footed out to the bathroom and was back in a few minutes. She hadn’t moved.
‘So stupid. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’ She sniffed—most unladylike. ‘I’m not sleeping too well.’ It was the story of her life. ‘I can’t sleep.’
He finished smoothing the plaster, then looked at her. ‘Neither can I.’
She met his eyes with hers. Her hand shook in his and he closed his fingers around it. Keeping it steady with a warm, firm grip.
He stood and made her stand with him. ‘Maybe we could help each other out?’
His lips were so close and he tilted her chin with a finger to bring hers nearer. Her lids fluttered lower so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes and openly admit defeat.
The finger under her chin pulled her another inch closer and with a small sigh she melted. There was no hesitation—she was unable to resist a second longer. She opened for him, reached for him, curling her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Sweet relief flooded through her as his arms went around her and hauled her close—he wanted her. He held back from the kiss. She could feel him studying her. She refused to open her eyes but leaned against him, wordlessly wanting him to understand she was so very willing.
She heard him half laugh under his breath, then felt him slip his arm under her knees to scoop her up. He made her feel weightless, wanted. He strode quickly, surely. She kept her eyes shut and let her body simply feel. The strength of his arms as they held her—as close as they’d been in the water, but this was better because she knew she was about to get it all from him. She could hardly wait.
She felt the mattress beneath her and was sorry when his arms slipped from under her. But satisfaction soon followed as she felt the bed depress with his weight, heard the foil rip and knew he was ready. Then his hands were on her, stroking the skin her top exposed. He pulled up the hem so her stomach was bared. His fingers traced the path, his lips followed. She shook as they touched her, her muscles spasmed involuntarily. He responded immediately, his hands sliding to where her breasts were bursting from her bra. Hard, overly sensitive nipples that ached for his hot mouth. She moaned as he read her mind and closed over her, sucking her nipple in—material and all. Her legs parted immediately as he pressed his weight onto her lower body. He unbuttoned her top with quick fingers and simply pushed the cups of her bra down so her breasts spilled over. He took them in his hands and tasted. Teased. She arched back, baring her neck, straining her pelvis up.
There were too many clothes—despite his near nudity. Again he read her mind. He rolled, quickly removing her skirt. No slow unwrapping this time. Her panties flew through the air. Then her bra. Then his boxers. He leant over her again and they were almost together in one mad moment. He held back—just—and instead teased her, his hand in place between her legs as his mouth devou
red hers. He lifted his head a little as his fingers played harder. With amusement in his eye he watched her reaction.
She sucked in a gasp of air and for a second the fog of lust cleared. This was not a good idea. She’d get emotional. He wouldn’t. But she closed her eyes, closing her brain down—refusing to let it ruin such a good time.
He wasn’t having it. ‘Open your eyes, Lucy,’ he muttered as he nibbled on her neck.
She screwed them tighter.
‘Open them or I stop.’
She opened them.
‘Got anything to say?’
‘Like what?’
‘Please.’
She clamped her mouth shut.
He grinned. ‘I’m really going to enjoy making you say it.’
Oh, she hoped so. Naughty Lucy.
‘Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it? Me to do my best to make you.’ He laughed.
Damn. He could read her like a book.
So she flipped it open. ‘Oh, Daniel. Make love to me.’ It was her best Marilyn Monroe impersonation ever—laced with a slurp of irony.
‘You’re going to have to do better than that, Trouble. I want genuine. Desperate. Need.’
He bent to attend to her breasts again and she gave his ceiling a rueful smile. She was seconds away from admitting all that and more. He began to work his way down her body—kissing, caressing, turning up the heat. It was magic how he became so hot and made her feel as if he were worshipping her body. He made her feel so wanted—every cell in her was on fire. He’d gone straight to the furnace and was stoking it, fuelling her until she was hotter than she’d ever been. Driving her relentlessly close, so close, to climax.
He touched her again, deep into her core. ‘The other night you said you didn’t want this again.’
‘I…’ can’t speak—not when he was toying with her like that.
His thumb rubbed her. ‘You weren’t that attracted.’
She lifted her hips up, pushing against him. Wanting this but more than this. Wanting the whole lot of him.
He rubbed that little bit harder and faster. His fingers delved deeper. ‘Will you admit that was wrong?’
He kissed her belly. Heat—desire-fuelled and that of pure irritation—flooded her. ‘Is this how you cross-examine your witnesses?’ She moaned. ‘No wonder you always win.’
She felt his smile on her stomach. He continued his tortuous path downwards. ‘Part of my job involves assessing whether people are telling the truth or not.’ His mouth reached the point where his thumb still worked. ‘I’m pretty good at my job.’
His mouth replaced the thumb—his tongue flicking, while his fingers, still deep, moved faster.
She cried out, raking his shoulders with her hands.
‘What?’ he asked, his hot breath nearly destroying her.
‘Please, please, please.’
He moved quickly, his fingers gone, his humour vanished. In a split second he was on top of her, his body holding hers down. She could feel his erection right against her. So, so close—she nearly cried with the need of it.
He took her hands in his and lifted them so they were pinned by her ears. Right at the point of entry he stopped, fixing her with his gaze, cold gold sparks penetrating. She stared up at him. Stilled by the intensity and ferocity in his face.
His grip tightened on her almost to the point of pain. He spoke, passion audible. ‘Never lie to me again.’
She gasped. She wanted him so much, but was terrified of how far he saw—right through her. Every last inch. She blinked rapidly. ‘OK.’
He surged forward—knowing her inside and out. She gasped again, a silent scream as she got the one thing she’d been wanting all week. It was better than she remembered. Better than she’d dreamed.
His grip on her hands loosened and she adjusted hers—lacing her fingers through his. Locking them in that position—just as their bodies were now locked: eye to eye, palm to palm, thigh to thigh. One.
Their gaze remained unbroken. She saw his anger and lust. She’d never been so close to anyone, never seen naked desire like this. Never felt such frustration and basic emotion on show. She knew her face reflected the same.
Their bodies embraced, closer, ever closer. So intense was her consciousness that she came close to circuiting out, but she couldn’t bear to close her eyes. Impossible—she couldn’t break away from him. Lines had been opened between them, like a channel to the soul. She found it as fascinating as she did terrifying.
She’d never had sex like this.
She’d never made love like this.
As his hips pressed to meet her rising ones, as he worked deeper and deeper in, the intensity grew. The more she wanted to look away, the more she couldn’t. And then her body shorted and took the decision away from her. As the ecstasy hit her eyelids fluttered and his face was lost to her for moments as her body shook and his name passed unthinkingly, unwillingly from her lips again and again.
When she opened her eyes again it was to find his still bearing down on her, watching her surrender to the joy he’d given her with pure satisfaction. She wanted the same for him. She wanted him to have the same pleasure in her arms that she got from his. Her fingers flexed. He must have seen the desire in her eyes because his mouth twisted into a smile. He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth possessing as deeply and fully as the rest of his body already was—and she kissed him back with all the honesty she could. Uncaring of the degree to which she was revealing her need for him. He knew it anyway and he didn’t like her hiding it. So she gave it free rein. Caressing him, whispering what she wanted, what she liked, asking the same from him, wanting to please him, wanting to make his studious control evaporate. It didn’t take that long. His body went rigid and she tasted his groan as it was forced from him. She slipped her fingers from his and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he came. Embracing all he had—all he was. And, in doing so, came all over again herself.
For long moments after she lay, still trembling, still in shock. She was too scared to look at him so she burrowed under his hot body. She didn’t know what to say. She’d just had the most intimate moment of her life and she was terrified.
Eventually he spoke. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m still not tired.’
‘No.’ Right now she didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Adrenalin raced through her. How had this guy suddenly become everything?
‘Still got more energy to burn?’ How could he sound so casual after the intensity of that sex? Probably because that was all it was for him—sex.
‘Let’s burn.’ Well, that was all it would be for her too. Sex—she needed it hard, fast and mindless. She needed pure body—not the merging of everything, the total sharing of minutes before. She needed to think of him purely as a source of pleasure—but as she cried out in his arms again, as she felt his body buckle in bliss, she knew she couldn’t ever think of him as such an object.
She was in big, big trouble. But as she lay cocooned in his arms his deep, regular breathing soothed her. The cotton sheet cooled her hot, over-sensitive skin and she slept at peace.
She woke in panic. She’d just slept with him. For hours, not minutes. And it felt fantastic. She’d entered a sweet dreamless state. That it had happened freaked her out almost as much as the nightmare that had haunted her for years. How was it she felt so safe with Daniel? When he challenged her every which way? When he was so remote and reserved?
‘Are we going to do this again?’
She looked at him. ‘Um.’
He stared straight at her, speaking as matter-of-fact as usual. Cut and dried. He could have been discussing a purchase of bread and milk, he sounded so everyday. ‘Because frankly I’m keen, but I can’t be bothered with the “Oh, no, I don’t want to” rubbish I had from you last week.’
Her jaw fell open. He shut it for her with a push of his finger against her chin and gave her a grin that only just let him get away with it.
‘I want you. We�
��re good in bed together, Lucy. We might not have much else in common, but we can do satisfaction. And then we both sleep. Noticed that?’
Of course. It was crazy. She felt more rested than she had in years—even though they’d slept only a few hours. But a perfect, deep sleep—the sort she usually dreamed of as she lay awake hour after hour through the dark night. No nightmares. She’d felt secure, safe.
‘You’re the best cure for insomnia I’ve ever had.’
‘I’m not quite sure that’s a compliment.’
He laughed. ‘Touché.’ He sat up in the bed, resting his elbows on his raised knees. ‘You physically and mentally exhaust me.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’
‘It is, because then I can sleep and that feels fantastic.’ He turned and caught her gaze full on again. ‘Tell me it isn’t the same for you.’
She’d promised him she wouldn’t lie. It was the same. Sparring with him, wondering what angle he was coming from. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on in that overly complex brain of his—and trying to hide what was going on in hers—wore her out. And then there was the sex—consuming every ounce of physical energy she had. Leaving her drained yet replete. Exhausted but invigorated. And able to sleep—in his arms.
‘I sleep OK with you.’ She’d said she wouldn’t lie; as far as she was concerned understating things was still allowed.
‘So it’s a deal, then? We sleep together—all senses of the word.’
She supposed she should say no. Most other women would. Ha—that was a lie: most women would leap at the chance to be with Daniel night after night. His lover credentials were unbeatable. Physique plus technique equals magnifique.
She just had to remember there was nothing else on offer here. Merely a deal to sleep with someone—two insomniacs having regular sex in the quest for a decent night’s rest after.
Anyway, she shouldn’t want anything else, should she? Not from a shining example of modern conservative establishment like Daniel.
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