by Fiona Lowe
She looked truly relieved so maybe he’d just imagined that she was in on the joke. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” he said, grinning. “I know to always look up.”
“I’m glad.” Rinsing out her mug, she placed it in the dishwasher before turning back. “Can you get me some flour out of the pantry, please?”
“Flour?”
She nodded and indicated the sugar and eggs she already had out on the counter. “I thought I’d make you an angel food cake.”
He laughed. “That involves you turning on the oven, Amy. Do you even know how?”
“I’ll have you know that back in the day at summer camp, I learned how to make this one cake, but if you don’t want to try some quintessential American cooking...” She shrugged her shoulders as if he’d just offended her.
He put his hands up in faux surrender. “Sorry to have doubted you. I’ll get you the flour. What sort? Self-raising? Plain?”
She frowned. “Flour is flour.”
“Not where I come from but if you say so.” As he pulled open the pantry door, he thought he heard her counting backward from five.
Poof! The next minute he was wearing and tasting flour as the white dust settled in his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth and everywhere else. “Amy!”
He wheeled around to find her bent over and laughing with tears pouring down her face. “Oh, dear, did something drop on you?”
He blew flour out of his mouth. “You think you can tangle with a drop bear expert and live to tell the tale?”
She tossed her curls, her face shining with delight. “Word.”
“Right.” Sliding his arm out of the sling, he reached for her with both hands.
She dodged out of his reach and shot around the counter, her hands gripping the smaller side of the rectangle. He tilted his shoulders left as if he was going to move in that direction and then immediately took off the other way. He caught the back of her blouse as she turned too late, having fallen for the ruse.
“Gotcha.” He pulled her into him, clamping her against him with his good arm and using his fingers to tickle her between the ribs.
Shrieking and gasping, she wriggled against him, trying to get away and in the process rubbing her butt back and forth against his groin. He was hard in a second. You didn’t think this through. “Don’t mess with the master.”
“I...give...in,” she spluttered and turned around to face him. Her hands immediately went for his ribs.
“Unlike you,” he said, grinning at her and recommencing his tickling, “I’m not ticklish.”
Squirming and laughing, she said, “If I hurt your arm it’s not my fault.”
“It’s all good and I can do this all day.” He dug his fingers in a bit harder and she squealed. “Are you ready to plea bargain, Counselor?”
“Never.” She whipped her hand up to his armpit.
He slammed his arm down hard against it, trapping it and then he caught her other hand with his. Shaking his head slowly back and forth, he made flour rain down on her. “I do believe you’re trapped.”
Her eyes sparkled silver like water in sunshine, her cheeks glowed pink and her plump, kissable lips taunted him. So did the touch of her panting chest as her breasts rose and fell against him. All the strain that had dogged her since he met her had vanished. She looked happy.
And sexy. Undeniably sexy.
He lifted her hand that he held to his mouth and kissed the tip of her middle finger. Then he sucked it into his mouth.
Her eyes widened so much he could have tumbled into them. God, she was amazing. Forget friendship, he wanted to taste her, touch her; hell, he wanted her.
He lowered his mouth and kissed her gently. She tasted of peppermint tea and the freshness drove through him, urging him on. He pressed kisses along her top and bottom lip and then traced their outline with his tongue. She sighed against his mouth and then opened hers, allowing him in.
He fell into heaven as her flavor and heat rushed him. He explored her mouth slowly, with long, wondrous strokes of his tongue, not wanting to miss any part of this cavern of delight. She allowed him total control, which he willingly took and when she made a mewling sound in her throat, his blood ran so hot, he thought he might explode on the spot. As much as he loved driving the kiss, now he wanted more. He flicked his tongue against hers, urging her to enter the kiss.
Pressing against him, her body molded to his as if they’d been designed to fit and she raised her arms up around the back of his neck. She cautiously deepened the kiss.
Her hesitancy burned him. He was the cause of her uncertainty, having pulled away from her last time. He didn’t want to pull away this time and he wanted her to know that. He stepped her toward the counter until her hips rested against it and then he pushed his left hand gently under her blouse. Running his fingertips along her spine, he savored the amazing feeling of her warm, soft skin until he reached the clasp on her bra. Had he been able to use his right arm, he would have had the bra undone in a second but it took him two flicks with his left hand to unhook it. Warm, round, heavy flesh filled his palm. Oh, yeah.
He brushed her erect nipple with his thumb and she gasped, sagging against him. He staggered slightly, widening his stance to hold her, loving how responsive she was. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he turned her around so he now had the support of the counter. “As much as I want to be spontaneous and have sex on the kitchen counter or up against the wall, I can’t do it. Doctor’s orders.”
She gazed up at him with a jumbled array of emotions in her expressive eyes. “I understand.”
Something about the way she said it sent a shiver through him. “I’m talking about us having sex in a bed, Amy. What are you talking about?”
She bit her knuckle and he captured her hand again, pulling it away from her mouth. “What is it?”
She sucked in a long breath. “Are you really sure you want to have sex with me?” she said, her words tumbling over themselves. “It’s just I’d rather you stop now before you freak out on me again because I’m not Lexie.”
He tried not to flinch at all the memories that name evoked. “It’s wonderful that you’re not Lexie or anything like her.”
“Still...” All the tension that so often cloaked her had returned.
He stroked her cheek. “Tell me what you’re worried about?”
“That you’ll regret it because I’m not very good at any of this.”
He thought of how she’d just kissed him. “Believe me, Amy, you’re more than good.”
Two worry lines scored the bridge of her nose. “Others would disagree.”
A surge of anger for the faceless men who’d preceded him made him pull her even closer and kiss her hard. “Amy, do you want to have sex with me in one of the many beds in this house, right now?”
Chapter Twelve
Amy stared up at Ben, her knees barely able to hold her upright after his scorching kiss. Did she want to have sex with sex-on-a-stick Ben? Does the Pope have an art collection? “Yes, please.”
He grinned, kissing her again and liquid silver streamed through her. The man was a kissing legend and he’d told her there was nothing wrong with her kisses. She was working really hard on trying to believe him.
“Excellent.” He suddenly frowned. “Do you have condoms?”
She felt the blush hit her and imagined she was fifty shades of pink. “No. Why would I have condoms?”
His sigh was tempered by the indulgent expression on his face. “You’re the most unusual modern woman I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, right, I’m unusual? I can’t say I have men falling at my feet but you, you’re the guy every woman looks at twice. Besides, I thought all guys had a condom in their wallets from age sixteen.”
His face twisted briefly. “Yeah, well it’s been a while.”<
br />
Oh, God. She’d just brought his ex-fiancée into the room for a second time in two minutes. She needed to get better at all of this. Fast. “Sorry.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t be sorry. There are seven bathrooms in this house,” he said, his voice full of strain. “Surely one of them has to have a packet of condoms?”
“You’ve gotta hope.” She moved up on her toes and kissed him, loving the way his arms instantly tightened around her. Loving the feel of his erection hard against her—proof she really did turn him on. She pulled away from him. “Race you for it.”
Knowing there were no condoms in the vanity in her or Ben’s bathroom, she tried the powder room, the bathroom next to her sewing room and the spa room bathroom before running upstairs to check out the bathrooms in the opposite upstairs wing.
Tampons, razors, aftershave, antifungal cream, shampoo and economy packs of ibuprofen tumbled out, pulled forward by her frantic fingers but no condoms. “Oh, come on.”
She had a hunky guy—a guy she really liked—and miracle of miracles, he wanted to have sex with her and there wasn’t a goddamn condom to be found in this mansion. She waved her fist at whatever deity was mocking her. What was wrong with the Rasmussens? Was their wealth better than sex?
Undeterred, she kept looking but when she’d totally emptied the cabinet, her breath froze in her throat. What if this delay made Ben come to his senses and realize what he was doing?
She didn’t even want to think about it.
“Amy!”
She ran to the catwalk and stared down at Ben who was standing at the base of the stairs.
“Any luck?” he called up.
She shook her head. “Nothing. You?”
He grinned and slid a strip of foil squares out of his sling.
She clapped her hands. “Where did you find them?”
“The carriage house. Seems that the guests party more than the Rasmussens.”
“So we’re playing to type?”
“Damn straight.” He took the stairs two at a time until he was standing next to her and pulling her close. “Your room or mine?”
The deep rumble of his voice set off a delicious raft of tingles. “How about the first one we find?” Grabbing his left hand she tugged him into the nearest bedroom.
He laughed. “I like the way you think.”
Emboldened by his words, she whipped up his T-shirt, easing it over his injured arm like she’d done twice a day for ten days, only this time she had carte blanche to stare and touch his chest in open admiration.
She splayed her fingers against his ribs and pressed an awe-filled kiss to each of his nipples.
He stiffened against her. “And yet you said you weren’t any good at this.”
His husky voice wrapped around her and she raised her head to meet his now-velvet-green eyes, which were ablaze with need for her. It deafened the past. “I’m making it up as I go along.”
He kissed her again and when he broke away he said, “I suppose I could risk my shoulder and undo those buttons on your blouse.”
Feeling safe, she slowly popped the bottom button on her blouse. “I wouldn’t want you to risk further injury.”
He grinned, his gaze glued to her. “You’re all heart.”
She undid the next few buttons until the only one closed was the one over her already-undone bra. She walked him back to the bed and then put both her hands on his shoulders, gently pushed him down until he was sitting on the bed and his face was level with her breasts.
He snuggled his face against the material and sighed. Then his hands were on her waist and in one quick movement he tugged her shorts to her ankles. She stepped out of them and then realized that the only thing covering her jelly belly was her blouse and it was about to come off and expose all.
Panic filled her. What the hell was she thinking trying to be a sexy siren in front of a perfectly proportioned, buff and totally toned guy when she really needed to lose five or ten pounds? She stepped back, tugging the edges of the blouse together.
“Amy?” His hand touched the one clutching her blouse. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone white.”
“I...you’re...” His heat flowed into her, addling her brain and making her body pant. “Me naked is not a pretty sight.”
He stood up and tilted her chin so she had no choice but to look him straight in the eye. “The first time I met you, you were naked and believe me, you’re more than pretty.”
She bit her lip wanting to believe him but she clearly remembered that encounter. “You told me I wasn’t your type.”
“I lied. You’ve had me going hot and hard from the moment I met you.”
Surprise and relief tumbled into each other. “Same.”
He kissed her but not hard and fast like the last few kisses, but gently as if she was going to break in his arms.
A sob rose to the back of her throat and she had to fight to stop it escaping. His tongue darted into her mouth, blanking her mind, and her body took over. She returned the kiss, dueling with him until, with ragged breathing, he pulled away. “So are you going to slip that blouse off or will I tug it off with my teeth?”
She shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall at her feet and then she leaned forward and the bra straps slid down her arms until they slipped off over her hands.
“Look up, Amy.”
Oh, Lord, this is it. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she lifted her head.
“Atta girl. Now I want to explore every gorgeous inch of you.”
This time he sat her on the bed before kneeling between her legs as if he was paying homage to her and then he did. His mouth played over hers in an erotic kiss as his hands fondled her breasts with soft, enticing touches that made her body ache for more. Slowly, his mouth moved from hers, trailing down her jaw, across her collarbone and then, kiss by kiss, he traversed her breastbone until he’d buried his face in her cleavage.
She dropped her face into his hair, breathing in the mint and pine scent, letting it wash through her and convince her that this was really happening.
His mouth closed over her nipple, sucking it in, abrading it with his tongue and she yelled out in pleasure as a flood of sensations she’d never known before exploded inside her. Her hands gripped his head as she writhed under the delicious assault of his tongue.
“Amy.” His voice was muffled. “I can’t move.”
“Sorry.” She quickly dropped her hands, not knowing quite where to put them. She wanted to touch him but she didn’t know where because she didn’t want to get in the way of him doing what he was doing. She never wanted him to stop doing that.
He raised his head, his face split with a grin. “I’m hearing and feeling that you liked that.”
Her face was on fire. She’d never had so much conversation during sex. “I did. I do.”
“Good, because there’s more where that came from.” He turned his attention to her other breast and she felt like her body was floating on a wave of sensation. Then his mouth was on her belly, his tongue drawing a moist, tingling line directly down.
It was like fireworks on the Fourth of July—every nerve ending exploded, releasing pleasure into her veins that raced and caught up with more pleasure until it built into a living, breathing thing that demanded more.
“Amy, lie back.”
She did as he asked, realizing with a jolt of surprise she would have done anything he said if it meant feeling like this. She lifted her hips and quickly discarded her panties.
The next moment, his lips were grazing her thighs. Feeling both wanton and utterly amazing, she instinctively pulled her legs up and let them fall open so Ben could have free and easy access.
“You’re beautiful.” He breathed out the words and then kissed her where no man had eve
r kissed her before.
“Oh, God, that’s...” But she lost the power of speech as his tongue found the perfect spot. Her head thrashed back and forth as the intoxicating spiral of need that promised release and yet at the same time demanded she let go of everything and climb with it, caught her in a swirl that spun her so fast she could barely breathe.
Her muscles quickened, pulling up and craving something to grip. “Ben...I...want...you.”
“This one’s for you.” He slipped two fingers inside her.
She cried out in a combination of relief and disappointment and all the while his tongue kept doing that amazing thing. She lost track of where she was and the pressure of the mattress underneath her fell away. All she knew was that this was the most delicious pain she’d ever known and it was taunting her that there was more. Her body begged her to let go and follow, and feeling safe with Ben, she gave over to it.
Her body twitched and writhed as pleasure exploded, raining down on her in streamers of silver and gold before pouring through her fast and then slow, until every single cell was sated. Slowly her vision came back into focus and her breathing slowed and she lifted her head to see Ben’s smiling face leaning over her. “That was... I... Words can’t explain it,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you.”
He grinned at her. “You’re welcome.”
“No, really, thank you.” She felt the heat of her blush wash over her but she didn’t care. “That’s...ah...never happened to me before.”
He suddenly looked worried. “But you’ve had sex before, right?”
“Yes, just not very often.”
His jaw dropped. “This was your first orgasm?”
She pressed her hand to his cheek, wanting to hide the disbelief that scored it. “I thought I might have had one before but you just very effectively disproved that theory.”
His expression was a combination of sadness and unadulterated pride. “Obviously, Australian men make better lovers.”
She laughed. “Apparently so. I can’t promise I’ll be any good at returning the favor, but I can try.” She reached for the snap on his jeans.
