by Nicola Marsh
Up close, he was even more startlingly good-looking: dark wavy hair, blue eyes the colour of Bondi on a clear day, chiselled jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble, the perfection marred by a small scar on the underside of his chin. And when he smiled again...oh, boy, she felt it all the way down to her toes and a few choice places in between.
She cleared her throat, trying to summon outrage at being held by a stranger while dressed like a stripper. ‘Let me go.’
But her command sounded soft and uncertain, falling flat if his amused smirk was any indication.
‘Do you want me to?’
He quirked an eyebrow, daring her to deny the invisible energy zapping between them.
She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t do casual sex; could count the number of times she’d actually had sex on one hand because it had been unremarkable. She didn’t believe in instant attraction or one-night stands. Or having vertical sex with a hot stranger in a warehouse.
This wasn’t her.
But what if it could be?
For a moment, she wondered where that voice had come from. Her conscience didn’t encourage her to go wild. Quite the opposite, in fact.
And where had it got her? Alone and craving a relationship.
What if she did something so out of character that she could never go back to the person she was? Would that give her the kick-start she needed to make the life she wanted happen instead of waiting for it to happen to her?
‘I don’t know you... I mean, I’m not good at this...and I don’t usually do this kind of thing with strangers—’
He kissed her. His lips were commanding, his skill obvious in the way he exacted the right amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft...
A kiss to her meant a meshing of lips, the occasional tongue, a bit messy and nothing to rave about.
What this guy could do with his tongue...the moment it invaded her mouth and touched hers she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but hold onto his lapels and press against him, desperate for contact.
His relentless assault on her lips made her tremble with longing. He changed the pressure, he nipped her bottom lip so hard it bordered on painful, and then he soothed it with a seductive sweep of his tongue.
A fleeting thought pierced her passion haze: could a woman orgasm from a kiss? Because she throbbed so startlingly from his mouth on hers that it had to be scientifically possible.
His fingers threaded through her hair, grazing her scalp, and she moaned at the tingling sensation it elicited. He took it as a sign of encouragement, spinning her around and hoisting her onto the table. She gasped at the cold plastic against her bare butt and he broke their kiss to stare at her in wide-eyed wonder.
‘I don’t do this. Sex with a stranger.’
‘Me either,’ she said, breathless and slightly husky. Wishing he hadn’t stopped. Wishing she had the guts to articulate how badly she wanted him to continue.
His hungry gaze locked on her, daring her to follow through on what they’d started. ‘So what do you want to do?’
He’d given her an out.
She should take it.
Her entire life revolved around rational, well-considered decisions. Weighing up facts. Making safe choices.
Where had it got her?
Single and not loving it. Her sex life was lived vicariously through erotic romance novels, craving an elusive something that would jolt her staid life; something like this crazy, exciting interlude to give her confidence a boost and ensure she could follow through on finding her perfect guy.
Staring into this guy’s amazing blue eyes, she wondered if maybe karma had delivered exactly what she needed.
Her throat tightened but she had to get the words out, had to take a chance for once. ‘I want to do this.’
Before her common sense kicked in, she placed her hand on his abs. Low enough to be suggestive. High enough he could end this now and walk away if he wanted to.
His low groan raised the fine hairs on her arms as he nudged her knees apart, stepped between them and slid his hands under her butt, sliding her towards him.
She gasped as he ground against her, hard and insistent, while his hands palmed her breasts. The softest whimper filled the air and through a hazy fog of want, she realised it had come from her.
She wrapped her legs around him and he responded by rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making her go a little crazy. She writhed against him, wanting more. He plucked at her nipples, sending a sizzle to her core.
If his touch felt so good with the stupid faux leather as a barrier, what would it feel like to be naked? She wanted to find out but he had other ideas.
‘Lie back,’ he said, placing a palm between her breasts and gently pushing. ‘Prop on your elbows so I can see you.’
The guys Charlotte had been with didn’t issue orders. They got the basics done without a word.
She liked being told what to do. Liked the gleam in his eyes when she did exactly as he wanted. She eased back until she rested on her elbows, uncertainty making her shiver as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of the thong. He tugged gently, lowering it, leaving her naked and vulnerable.
She’d never felt so exposed. But her protest died on her lips as he locked gazes with her at the same time he slid a finger inside her.
Reverence widened his eyes, as if she’d bestowed a great gift on him, and her flutters of worry faded beneath his ministrations.
Another finger slipped inside her, rhythmically sliding in and out as his thumb circled her clitoris. Slow. Steady. He was driving her insane with the feel of him and the way he met her gaze. Uncompromising. Confident in his ability to satisfy her. Seeing her, really seeing her.
‘You are so frigging beautiful,’ he muttered, his tone barely above a growl, and she gritted her teeth to stop from groaning out loud as the pleasure built. She tensed her muscles and began spiralling out of control. She blanked her mind until all she could focus on was him. His touch. His fingers. His stare.
Her orgasm crashed over her, so strong, so unexpected, wiping her out. She couldn’t hold back, her yell loud and triumphant.
She expected to be swamped with mortification the second her body stopped pulsating. But nothing happened, other than a relentless yearning to do it all again.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, sounding oddly formal.
‘You’re welcome.’ His smile widened as he reached down and unzipped. ‘If you want, there’s more where that came from.’
Charlotte’s jaw dropped open. She’d heard of the fabled internal orgasm but equated it to other fanciful, elusive things, like unicorns and fairies.
Apparently her mystery man believed in all things mystical and she watched in unabashed fascination as he unsnapped his trousers and pushed them down along with his jocks.
Showing her proof of exactly why he could be so confident.
Wowza. She might not have seen many erect penises but the ones she had made this one look like a giant. With a wicked-looking head.
She smiled at her joke and he quirked an eyebrow.
‘It doesn’t bode well that you take one look at me and want to laugh.’
A killer sense of humour and a big dick. She’d hit the jackpot. Ding, ding, ding.
‘I’m out of my comfort zone here. Can’t you give a girl a break?’
‘Thought I already had.’ He winked and she laughed, surprised at how easy this felt.
The few other times she’d had sex had been awkward, without a hint of banter. She liked this, liked feeling like a wanton goddess splayed before a sex god.
‘This is crazy. You know that, right?’
He nodded, fishing a condom from his wallet and rolling it on with an expertise that indicated he’d done it many times before. ‘Crazy is good.’
He set about proving it, sliding into her with a force that made her gasp. He grabbed her butt, lifting it slightly so he could drive into her on an angle that ensured he hit that fabled sweet spot. He thrust into her over and over with a relentless force that had her surging up, reaching for him.
She held onto his shoulders as he half lifted her off the table, his penetration deeper, his rhythm faster. The pleasure bordered on pain and she bit his shoulder as she came again, stunned by the ferocity of it.
He tensed and groaned a second later, his fingers digging into her butt so hard she might not be able to sit for a week. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything other than this euphoria making her feel as if she could do anything.
He held her for what seemed like an eternity before gently lowering her to the table and withdrawing. She felt the loss immediately. Craved more. Mentally chastised herself for being stupid.
He turned away, giving her time to put her clothes on while he took care of business. She didn’t like seeing his back. Not when their fronts had connected so well.
Remorse, swift and stabbing, flooded her.
What the hell had she been thinking, having sex with a stranger?
However, when he turned back to her, his expression open, his smile satisfied, she couldn’t be sorry.
‘You were incredible.’ He cupped her face between his hands and brushed a soft kiss across her lips.
To Charlotte’s horror, the burn of impending tears stung her eyes and she blinked, forcing a smile as she pushed him away.
‘So were you,’ she said, sounding flippant, while inside a little part of her crumbled at his unexpected tenderness. ‘But I really need to get this tidied up now.’
It was a curt dismissal he didn’t deserve but she had to get him out of here before she cried.
‘Sure, I hear the landlord is a slavedriver.’ He seemed completely unfazed by her rudeness but he stared at her with a newfound intensity that bordered on uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around?’
‘Maybe,’ she ground out, refraining from adding, ‘like never.’
Scorching sex with a stranger hadn’t been on her to-do list today but now that it had happened...did she feel different? More confident? More womanly? Just more?
She had no freaking idea because in seizing the moment, she’d moved so far out of her comfort zone she’d ended up on another planet, one where good girls did bad things and didn’t regret it. Especially when that bad thing had been oh, so good.
But no matter how incredible her momentary lapse had been, it couldn’t happen again. She needed to move on and refocus on the priorities in her life. Like finding a genuine guy who’d want more than a quickie on a table in the back room of a warehouse.
He paused at the door, as if he wanted to say something. Ask for her phone number? Ask her out to dinner? Her inner romantic yearned for some gesture to indicate that this hadn’t been just sex to him.
She should have been relieved when he half shrugged and held up a hand in farewell before closing the door behind him.
She wasn’t. All she could think was that she’d found the bad boy she’d been craving but had let him go far too easily.
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEX HAD DONE something bad.
The kind of bad that could get him a lifetime membership to hell alongside the naughty guy with horns and a pitchfork, ensuring he danced on hot coals for all eternity.
On his first day back in Sydney, he’d envisaged having a quiet afternoon inspecting his property investments.
He hadn’t expected to have sex with the woman he’d earmarked to take The Number Makers into the future.
Even now, hunkered behind a solid wooden door in a rather ugly office, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to have sex with Charlotte Baxter.
Not that he’d recognised her until it was too late, with her hair down, no glasses and wearing the kind of lingerie to fuel wet dreams.
Because the woman he’d researched online once he’d taken this job looked nothing like the woman he’d had scorching sex with in that warehouse.
The headshot on The Number Makers website depicted a prim woman wearing a bland white blouse, minimal make-up, steel-rimmed glasses and a dorky headband, with her hair pulled tight in a high ponytail.
Never in his wildest dreams had he expected Charlotte to be wearing leather underwear and looking nothing like her picture when they first met.
There’d been a vague familiarity about her at the time, but he’d put it down to wishful thinking. His little head overriding his big one because he’d wanted to get laid and the intriguing woman in the leather underwear had seemed up for it.
It wasn’t until they’d done the deed that the truth had detonated. The moment he’d heard her say, ‘I really need to get this tidied up now,’ he’d known.
Charlotte had used that same phrase many times over the last few weeks when he’d assigned her tasks. Usually in reference to cleaning up work, where she had to deal with the mess left by the old manager.
When it came to work, she’d always been agreeable. It was only when he tried to be friendly, to get to know her better, that she became abrupt and shut him down.
I really need to get this tidied up now.
Fuck. He’d been struck dumb when he’d realised he’d slept with an employee. That was when he’d taken a closer look and realised that without the uptight hairdo and the glasses, she had the same eyes. A captivating slate grey that held secrets.
Like the fact she could masquerade as a vixen after hours once she shed her librarian persona.
He should have trusted his gut that she looked vaguely familiar, should have taken a closer look at her face. Unfortunately, he’d taken one look at her lithe body and lost it. Not because she was a bombshell—she had small, pert breasts thrust heavenward by that saucy bustier, a trim waist, slim legs and an ass that fitted in his hands nicely.
No, he’d lost it because he’d seen something in her eyes...a wistful yearning, a war waged between boldness and fear, like she wanted to jump him but didn’t know how.
It had captured his interest like nothing else.
After he’d realised her true identity, he hadn’t been able to get over the startling contrast between the woman he’d imagined and the woman who’d made him hard by fixing those cool grey eyes on him.
He could read most people. But after he’d twigged that he’d screwed Charlotte, he couldn’t fathom how the hell she’d been so into it. How did a no-nonsense woman switch from being contained at work to confident enough to strip down, try on raunchy underwear and fuck a stranger in a warehouse? It left him completely baffled.
She’d intrigued him during their many phone conversations and he’d wanted to see how far he could push her. He’d deliberately teased her over the last few weeks, chuckling at the curt shutdowns she reserved for him—and probably every male on the planet.
To think how she’d responded to his touch...at the time, he hadn’t been able to explain rationally his over-the-top urge to possess her. Sure, he’d been too busy to date lately and hadn’t had sex in three months, but he’d never been driven by urges before. Celibacy didn’t bother him, especially when he had a new job in the pipeline. Yet he’d taken one look at Charlotte—not that he’d known it was her at the time—and wanted her.
His cock hardened and he shifted in the uncomfortable ergonomic chair. First item of business on the agenda at The Number Makers: change the furniture and make it more comfortable for staff so they wanted to stick around and work.
Though when he met Charlotte in a few minutes’ time and she realised who she’d had scorching sex with on a table in a back room of his warehouse, he had a feeling nothing would make her stick around.
He had to convince her otherwise.
Her work spoke for itself. She went above and beyond for her clients.
She put in extra hours without expecting remuneration. She carried the load for her team. And she’d completed every task he’d set for her over the last few weeks. He’d been testing her, seeing how willing she was to take on extra work and she’d passed.
He hoped to God she wouldn’t quit because he hadn’t kept his dick in his pants.
Worse, he couldn’t get the image of her splayed on that table out of his head. He’d never seen anything so damned erotic as a woman he’d just met being so willing and eager. She’d been absolutely wanton and it had turned him on big time. Later, when he’d discovered her identity, it had made him wonder how he could have gotten her so wrong. Had that bold, fiery woman always been hidden beneath her brusque exterior? And if so, what would it be like to coax her to come out and play again?
He couldn’t afford to think that way. He’d made a mistake by sleeping with an employee, a mistake he had no intention of replicating.
But the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about her, had lain awake most of last night because of it, didn’t bode well for when she entered this office shortly.
He needed to focus on work. On making The Number Makers a strong, viable company. The more money he made, the further he left his old life behind. He couldn’t afford a slip-up.
But what if he’d already slipped up in slaking his unexpected lust for her?
CHAPTER FIVE
CHARLOTTE LIKED TICKING off tasks in her head.
Pack up Aunt Dee’s merchandise? Check.
Have the boxes couriered to her flat? Check.
Enjoy sizzling sex with random stranger? Check.
Even now, the next morning, heat surged to her cheeks every time she thought about what she’d done in that warehouse.
She, the queen of introverts, having two mind-blowing orgasms with a guy whose name she didn’t even know.
