by Heidi Rice
She fell forward, knocking him back, their sweat-slicked bodies collapsing onto the bed.
He hugged her, holding her on top, his deep, satisfied laugh brushing against her ear lobe. ‘Cassie, that was …’ he paused, his hands stroking her back, the still-huge erection pulsing inside her ‘ … amazing.’
Her heart flipped over, afterglow turning into the sweet glow of triumph. ‘No, it wasn’t,’ she said, a wonderfully smug smile curving her lips. ‘It was really amazing.’
He brushed her hair back from her face, the confidential smile on his lips reminding her of the secret joke they had once shared on a stairwell. ‘Yeah, really amazing,’ he said, and her heart soared.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WAKE up, sweet cheeks. Dinner’s here.’
Cassie’s eyes fluttered open to find Jace sitting on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her cheek with the palm of his hand. He wore one of the hotel’s monogrammed robes, but the wisps of chest hair revealed in the V of pristine white towelling had sensation shimmering across her skin. Heat rode up her neck as she felt the unfamiliar tenderness between her thighs—and the recollection of what he’d done to her, of what they’d done to each other, came flooding back. ‘I fell asleep?’ she asked, her voice groggy and confused. All she could remember was lying curled in his arms, feeling sated and better about herself than she had felt in a long time, her bottom butting his softening erection and his hands resting on her belly.
‘We both did,’ he said, his thumb running down her neck and over her collarbone, then slipping beneath the edge of the fine linen sheet to touch the tender skin of her breasts. ‘Really amazing sex will do that to a person.’
She stretched, stifling a yawn, and luxuriated in the feeling of triumph.
It had been really amazing. Hadn’t it?
But then her nostrils caught the sent of tarragon and roast meat and her stomach grumbled audibly, making the flush spread.
He chuckled. ‘Unfortunately, really amazing sex also makes you ravenous.’
She lifted up on her elbows as he stood and walked across the room.
‘I ordered us some fancy French chicken dish to keep our strength up,’ he said as he lifted another monogrammed robe off an armchair.
A quick grin lifted her lips. He wanted her to keep her strength up. That sounded promising.
He returned with the fluffy white robe, held it up for her. ‘But you have to put this on first, or I’m liable to start ravishing you instead of the food.’
She pushed back the sheet, and made herself hop out of bed, concentrating on her hunger to stave off the silly spurt of shyness about her nakedness. Which was patently ridiculous given what they’d been doing before she drifted off.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, shoving her hands into the sleeves.
He wrapped the robe around her, tying the belt from behind and then hugged her round the waist. His nose nudged the top of her head. ‘Nearly eleven.’
She’d been asleep for three hours!
She pulled out of his embrace, swung round, dismayed and desperately disappointed.
Would he expect her to go home? She had no idea what the etiquette for one-night stands was, but she had a feeling staying until the morning might be awkward.
He frowned. ‘Damn, you’re a vegetarian, right?’
‘No, I …’
He took her chin, his brow creasing. ‘Then what’s the matter?’
She swallowed. She might as well ask. She had a right to ask. ‘What are we going to do after dinner?’
‘After dinner,’ he said, his lips quirking. ‘Well, now.’ Gripping her hips, he tugged her easily towards him. ‘After dinner, I figured we could try out the whirlpool tub in the master bathroom. Considering the rates this place charges, I haven’t made nearly enough use of it. And then—’ he wiggled his eyebrows comically ‘—I thought lots more really amazing sex wouldn’t go amiss.’ The teasing expression sobered a little. ‘If you’re not too sore, that is,’ he added. ‘You weren’t kidding when you said it had been a while for you, were you?’
The thrill of arousal rushed through her, tempered by the little clutch in her chest at the concern in his eyes. She’d always thought of him as being dangerous. And he was. Even more so now she knew how devasting he was in bed. But how could she have guessed that he would also be such a considerate lover?
‘I’m not sore,’ she said, deciding to ignore his probing question. She certainly didn’t intend to tell him how long it had been. Or why.
She placed her palms on his bare chest, felt the thunder of his heartbeat matching hers. ‘But you may still have to persuade me,’ she teased, twirling one of her fingers in his chest hair, the fine art of flirtation and temptation coming as naturally as breathing.
He laughed, taking her finger and bringing it to his lips. ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’ He gave it a nip, then groaned as his stomach growled loudly. ‘But first we better eat. We’re likely to need it. For stamina.’
She let all the deliciously dangerous thoughts of what the night ahead might hold drown out any doubts as he led her into the suite’s living room. But her steps faltered, her bare feet sinking into the silk rug, when she saw the ornate table laid with gilt-edged china plates covered with silver domes, a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice-bucket and a single tapered candle illuminating the table with the help of the fire glowing in the open hearth. Her heartbeat slowed at the romantic scene, but she quashed the sentiment as he held out her chair for her.
She propped her elbows on the table and forced herself not to overthink things as she admired his darkly handsome face in the flickering light.
He was only hers for one night. That was all she wanted. One night of really amazing sex, which she wasn’t going to ruin—as she had so many times before—with misguided hopes of romance.
‘Voilà!’ He whisked the dome covering her plate with a flourish. ‘Tuck in.’
Taking a sighing breath of the delicious scent rising from the plate, she lifted the heavy silver knife and fork, intending to do just that.
Jace watched Cassie lick the creamy tarragon sauce off her lower lip and felt the now familiar heat pulse in his groin. Diverting his attention to his own plate, he sliced into the succulent chicken breast, let the rich aroma of butter and herbs go some way to dispelling the spicy scent of her that seemed to have invaded his senses.
Problem was, he wasn’t just hungry for food. He took a swallow of the delicious dish. And controlling his appetite for Cassie Fitzgerald was proving to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated.
After waking up with her curled in his arms, he’d lain awake for twenty minutes. Torturing himself with the feel of her plump breasts rising and falling against his forearm, her soft buttocks pillowed against his reinvigorated erection, and recalled their lovemaking in every exquisite, excruciating detail.
He pictured her gorgeous breasts after he’d taken off her bra. The large, rosy nipples rigid with arousal as he teased the swollen tips with his teeth. Then her pale cheeks flushed with colour, her lips slightly parted, the harsh sobs of her orgasm as his fingers sank into the wet heat at her core. Her limp body draped over his shoulder. And at last, the incredible feel of her full lips caressing his erect flesh.
He’d never seen a more erotic sight, and had been forced to stop her before he went off like a rocket. But he’d instantly regretted it when she’d lurched away, the desire and excitement in her eyes snuffed out by regret and panic.
He’d never met a woman who was so effortlessly seductive, who could turn him inside out with lust without doing much more than breathing and yet was so unsure of herself.
Some guy had clearly done a number on her. That could be the only answer. And as he’d listened to her sleep and resisted the urge to wake her up and ravish her all over again, he’d felt his curiosity—and his anger—grow.
He’d struggled to get a grip on both before he did something idiotic. So he’d eased her out of his arms, an
d climbed out of bed to arrange dinner.
While he’d run a bath in the enormous whirlpool tub, then sat in the lounge waiting for their meal to arrive, he’d contemplated exactly how he was going to play things for the rest of the night, and had come to a few important conclusions.
Cassie Fitzgerald was sweet and sexy and just what he needed after his dry spell. He’d spent far too many months recently sweating over the direction of his business and more specifically figuring out the best way to cut the last of his ties to his ex-wife—and his sex life had suffered as a result.
Maybe he wasn’t anywhere near as prolific as he had been in his teens, but he wasn’t a man who dealt all that well with months of abstinence. His explosive, uncontrolled reaction to Cassie in the first place was evidence of that.
That Cassie was the complete antithesis of the women he usually chose to date, who were as jaded as he was in the sack, was the only reason why he found her so captivating—and so refreshing. But making an issue of it by satisfying his curiosity about her past wasn’t an option. It had been quite a while since he’d had a one-night stand, but he knew that mixing sex with intimacy was always a mistake.
This trip was about correcting the mistakes of his past, his marriage being the biggest one of all; getting involved with anyone would kind of defeat the purpose of the whole enterprise.
He planned to enjoy this evening, and he wanted Cassie to enjoy it too. From her fragile confidence and her touchingly insecure reactions when they made love, he suspected she hadn’t got to enjoy sex nearly as much as she should have in the past. And maybe it was arrogant of him, but while he’d never professed to know what women wanted emotionally—and didn’t intend to find out—he’d made it his life’s work to know what they enjoyed in bed.
Cassie’s sexual liberation was a little project that he was more than happy to dedicate himself to. Especially as Cassie seemed so receptive to the idea. Anything else wasn’t going to happen. So he wasn’t about to risk encouraging her to think this was more by asking her personal questions.
But as he took a pensive sip of his champagne and Cassie’s eyes met his he noticed the potent mix of desire and reticence in their depths and couldn’t quite ignore the thorn digging into his side.
Setting his glass down, he reached across the table and anchored the errant curl of hair that had fallen across Cassie’s cheek back behind her ear.
‘How’s the food?’ he asked.
‘Delicious,’ she said, and his gut tightened right up again.
He’d always had a bad habit, he thought wryly, of finding the forbidden irresistible. That was why he’d spent a night redecorating the school gym at seventeen and ended up getting arrested. And it was also why he’d been unable to resist sleeping with his main investor’s daughter years later, and got trapped in a marriage of convenience that had caused him no end of headaches. He thought he’d learned to curb the impulse to do something he knew he would later regret.
But as Cassie’s gaze flicked back to her plate the dangerous impulse took charge of his tongue and he heard himself saying, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Cassidy, but I got the impression earlier that you’re not a veteran of really amazing sex?’
Cassie jerked her chin up, stunned by the perceptive question. And what it might mean. Why had he asked that? And how did he know? Was her lack of proficiency that obvious?
She pushed out a laugh. ‘Why would you think that?’ she scoffed, deciding to bluff. Unfortunately, the colour charging into her cheeks wasn’t exactly playing along.
He pushed his plate aside, the quizzical smile he sent her making the colour charge faster.
‘There’s no need to be embarrassed,’ he said, not just calling her bluff, but trampling all over it. ‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’ Placing his hands behind his head, he stretched back as he studied her, making the chair creak and the robe fall open revealing a tantalising glimpse of those mouth-watering abdominal muscles.
She reached for her champagne flute, trying not to follow the line of hair bisecting his abs, which she now knew arrowed down to something even more enticing.
‘You’re a beautiful woman, with an extremely passionate nature,’ he said, his voice so low she was sure she could feel it reverberating across some of the tender places he’d explored so thoroughly earlier in the evening. ‘I just wondered why you haven’t indulged it more?’
She gulped and put the glass down, grateful that she hadn’t taken a sip of the champagne yet.
An extremely passionate nature! Had he actually said that? About her?
She was both stunned and flattered by his assessment, and her heart squeezed a little. It had never been her fault that first David then Lance couldn’t remain faithful, and now she had indisputable proof. Jace Ryan, who was a much more talented man than either of them would ever be, found her beautiful and extremely passionate.
She felt both vindicated and empowered by the thought, and her recently activated flirt gene flickered back to life. ‘Because, of course, you’d be an expert on that,’ she teased, determined to steer the conversation away from anything too personal. She certainly didn’t plan to talk about her past relationships with men, because that would ruin the nice little buzz from his compliment.
One dark brow lifted. ‘An expert on what?’
‘Indulging an extremely passionate nature.’
He huffed out a laugh. ‘Guilty as charged.’ Tilting his chair forward, he stood up. Taking her hands in his, he tugged her out of the chair. ‘But I definitely think your extremely passionate nature needs a lot more indulgence. And tonight I’m more than happy to sacrifice myself for the cause.’
Her pulse points pounded.
How easy would it have been for her to start tumbling into love with a man as overpowering as Jace Ryan last Christmas, with a lot less encouragement than really amazing sex and a few casual compliments? But luckily now she was much more pragmatic. He didn’t know anything about her or her past, so he couldn’t possibly know how much this night meant to her.
And she had no intention of letting him find out.
‘That’s very noble of you,’ she whispered cheekily, glad to have deflected his questioning so easily.
He gave the tie on her robe a slow tug, until it released, the flaps falling open. His rough palms brushed around her waist and cupped her bare bottom. ‘I thought so,’ he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as moisture flooded between her thighs.
He pushed the robe off her shoulders and she gave a soft gasp as it dropped to the floor. Then yelped as he lifted her into his arms.
‘Time for your next lesson,’ he said as he carried her into the bathroom. ‘Really amazing sex in a whirlpool tub.’
She clasped her arms round his neck and clung on, laughing while her senses stampeded into overdrive—the tight squeeze in her heart drowned out by the frantic beat of arousal and the loud splash as he dumped her into warm scented water.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I ’M GOING to be stuck in London on business until New Year’s Day,’ Jace’s voice murmured in Cassie’s ear, his soap-slicked hands cupping her heavy breasts and lazily teasing the nipples with his thumbs. ‘Have you got any plans for the Christmas period?’
A little shocked by the renewed jolt of heat, and a lot more shocked by the casual enquiry, Cassie shifted in his lap, feeling the heavy arousal nestled between her legs, and her heart leapt into her throat.
After they’d soaped each other into a frenzy, he’d insisted she sit on the edge of the huge tub so he could take her into his mouth. She’d never felt anything so exquisite in her life before, the rough, expert play of his tongue on her sensitised clitoris quickly becoming more than she could bear. But when she’d come down from the intense high, the look of satisfaction on his face had made her feel ever so slightly vulnerable.
She was feeling a lot more vulnerable now.
‘Why do you ask?’ And why had her heart just rocketed into her throat at his question? He couldn�
��t be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Could he? That they should extend their one-night fling?
He rubbed his palms over the rigid peaks and chuckled when a moan slipped out. ‘Because I want more time to play with you while I’m here. One night isn’t going to be enough.’
There it was again, the smug tone of voice—and the bump of her heart in her throat.
‘The water’s getting cold,’ she said, levering herself out of his lap.
But before she could climb out, his large hands bracketed her hips, holding her in place. ‘Why didn’t you answer my question?’ he said as she glanced over her shoulder.
He didn’t look hurt or offended. Why would he? But even so she couldn’t quite bring herself to give him a straight answer. The desire to say yes to his suggestion was so powerful, she knew it had to be a bad idea.
She wasn’t the naive little twit she’d been for the first twenty-seven years of her life. She’d turned a corner in the last ten months and she would never go back to that. Believing all the empty promises her father had told her as a child, only to be left devastated when he never lived up to any of them. Or falling for David at art college, only to be told she wasn’t what he was looking for. Or, worst of all, accepting a proposal from a man who, during the whole three years he’d bunked at her flat while he was ‘between jobs’, she now suspected had never been faithful to her.
But while she knew she had finally learned her lesson with Lance—that men were about as reliable as the electrical appliances you bought from a door-to-door salesman—she wasn’t at all happy about the way her heart was leaping about in her chest. Just as it had done all those years ago when her father had rung up from Tokyo or Rome or San Francisco to tell her he’d definitely see her that weekend … Or when Lance had got down on one knee on the tiny balcony of her flat on Valentine’s Day and asked her to marry him …
