Only it felt as if something had. Actually, it felt as if everything had.
Oh, for goodness’ sake.
Frowning, she smoothed over where she had jerked the lip pencil upwards. She took a breath. Maybe that was why, for one fleeting, truly idiotic moment, she had thought he was going to invite her to stay longer. Not that she would have accepted, of course. That would be utterly insane. Her flat, her job, her life was in London.
This was a lovely place to visit, and okay, she and Arlo weren’t at each other’s throats anymore, but he was still a stranger.
A stranger she had kissed...
Refocusing with an effort, she glanced down at her cream cashmere jumper and dark red silk skirt, then lower to her high-heeled red shoes, trying to see herself as Arlo would.
But, really, what was the point?
Her pulse stilled. If there was one thing she’d learned about Arlo Milburn it was that it didn’t pay to second-guess him.
* * *
He was already waiting for her in the dining room, standing by the fireplace looking down at the flames, one arm resting on the overmantel. Her breath seemed to spontaneously combust in her throat as he looked up at her, his grey eyes narrowing admiringly.
‘You look beautiful.’
He was looking at her steadily, with total attention, and she felt her face and hands grow warm. ‘I thought I’d make a bit of an effort.’ She smiled, feeling suddenly shy. ‘You look great too,’ she added, her eyes skimming his dark trousers and a shirt that was so flawlessly white his upper body looked as if it was made of Arctic ice.
She wasn’t just being polite. He really did look great. Both his trousers and shirt were cut beautifully and emphasised his muscular thighs and the wideness of his shoulders.
‘Usually I wear this when I win something.’ He didn’t smile back. ‘So it seemed appropriate.’
She frowned. ‘What have you won?’
‘Dinner with you, obviously,’ he said quietly.
His words tingled like snowflakes against her skin. But of course, he was just being nice because she was leaving.
She smiled. ‘Some people would probably see that as the consolation prize.’
He held out his hand. ‘Not people worth knowing.’
He led her to her seat, and as she waited for him to sit down, she gazed around the room. She had spent such a short time here, but already everything felt so familiar...
Arlo felt so familiar.
Glancing over, she felt her throat constrict. He was changing before her eyes. That tense, angry man whose dark eyes had spilled scorn on her was now reaching over to fill her wine glass.
The food was superb again. Guinea fowl with leeks and morels followed a starter of roasted scallops with sea herbs, and to finish there was a white chocolate mousse with lemon sorbet. And although she’d been expecting the conversation to be a little stop-start, it wasn’t at all. In fact, he was surprisingly good company. Intelligent, with that dry sense of humour she had glimpsed before, and happy to talk about practically anything.
Her pulse dipped. But no doubt he was just making an effort because it was her last night.
She laid down her spoon. ‘That was wonderful, but I truly couldn’t eat another thing.’
‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘Only there’s another two courses—’
She glanced up just in time to see the smile leaving his lips. ‘Very funny.’
‘Don’t you mean hashtag can’t stop laughing?’ he said softly.
Now she was laughing and shaking her head. Then she groaned. ‘Please don’t make me laugh...it hurts too much.’
‘Sorry.’ He leaned back, studying her. ‘You know, when Johnny and I ate too much when we were younger my dad used to take us up to the rumpus room and make us run races.’
‘Is that the long room with all the little leaded windows?’
He nodded. ‘The windows are like that so you can play ball games up there without smashing the glass. We used to play everything. Rugby, tennis...’ His grey eyes met hers. ‘Cricket?’
‘No, absolutely not,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m too full to run—and not in these heels. It wouldn’t be a fair contest.’
In the light from the chandeliers his features didn’t look so hard, so at odds with each other, as he held her gaze. ‘If you keep those heels on, the disadvantage would be entirely mine.’
She felt her skin grow warm. ‘What about a game of snooker?’ she said quickly. She had spotted the table during yesterday’s brief exploration. ‘That shouldn’t be too strenuous.’
‘It’s actually a billiard table,’ he said as they walked into the wood-panelled room. ‘Billiards is a great game, but most people treat it like the dull cousin of snooker and pool.’
‘You mean like Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Mr Collins was dull. Billiards is not. It’s simple to learn, but it punishes you far more than snooker or pool when it comes to the fundamentals.’
She bit her lip. ‘And that’s important, is it? Punishing yourself?’
‘Only in as much as it allows you to punish your opponent more,’ he said softly.
Their eyes met and then he handed her a cue.
‘Okay, then. The rules of the game: billiards is played with one red ball and two white cue balls...’
They agreed that the winner would be the first to reach a hundred points.
‘That sounds like a lot,’ she said slowly. ‘But okay...’
* * *
Forty minutes later, Frankie leaned back against the table, biting into her lip.
Arlo laid his cue down on the baize. ‘Frankie Fox,’ he said quietly. ‘Social media influencer and stone-cold, red-hot billiard player.’
She screwed up her face. ‘I was going to tell you, but—’
‘You thought you’d wipe the floor with me instead?’
Her mouth dried up as he walked slowly towards her.
‘No,’ she protested. ‘You just looked so sweet and serious when you were explaining everything. I couldn’t bring myself to stop you.’
‘Sweet?’ He blew out a breath and then he smiled. ‘That’s a new one. So, who taught you how to play?’
‘My brother Harry.’ She blinked. It was probably the first time she had spoken her brother’s name in more than eighteen months, and it scraped inside her mouth. Fixing a smile to her face, she continued, ‘The pub down the road from where he lived at university had a billiard table. If it’s any consolation, I used to beat him and all his friends too.’
Sighing, Arlo shook his head. ‘I suppose I should be grateful we didn’t play for money.’
‘I don’t want your money—’
He was standing so close she could feel his warm breath, could see the metallic gleam and the urgency in his eyes.
‘What do you want?’ he said slowly.
It was a simple question. The answer was not.
She swallowed, shifted, transfixed by the clashing arcs and clefts of his features. It was like looking at a topographic map, and she wondered what would happen if she ran her finger along one of the lines.
Where would it lead her?
Her body was tingling, her heart hammering inside her chest. Everything looked and felt different—more there, more sensuous. The faint scent of woodsmoke...the billiard table pressing into her thighs...the shimmering chandeliers...
Maybe it was the wine, she thought. But she knew that it wasn’t, and she felt something stir low down.
She knew that it was Arlo.
He was the answer. She wanted him.
Her insides tightened, the truth accelerating her racing pulse. But everything was tangled, snarled together so tightly that she was incapable of doing anything other than stand there and stare at him.
‘I d
on’t know,’ she said at last.
He took a step closer. ‘Would it help if I told you what I wanted?’
Her eyes found his. He was watching her intently, his face taut, the muscles in his arms bunching beneath his shirt.
‘What do you want?’ she whispered, clenching and unclenching her fists.
Reaching out, he ran his finger along her jaw. ‘I want you. And you want me.’
The rawness in his voice shocked her so much that she didn’t even attempt to deny his words. His dark eyes were trained on her face and the tension inside her was at breaking point.
She knew that he was waiting for her, that he would walk away without a murmur if she wanted him too. But she didn’t want him to. Only she couldn’t seem to speak.
She took a breath and said the only word that would form in her mouth. ‘Yes.’
He leaned into her, dipping his head so that his lips brushed against hers, and then his hands were pulling her closer, so that it felt as if they were starting where they’d left off last time.
Heart pounding, she slid her fingers over the solid muscles of his chest, almost dizzy with the freedom of touching him. His hands slid under her jumper to cup her breasts, and she moaned against his lips as the nipples hardened.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said hoarsely, and she responded, tightening her fingers around his arms as he deepened the kiss.
Only she wanted more and, pushing him back, she grabbed her sweater and pulled it over her head. His eyes narrowed as she began undoing his shirt, and then, with a growl of frustration, he yanked it apart, the buttons flying everywhere.
She swallowed hard as he dragged the sleeves down over his wrists, and then he was reaching out, pushing aside the fabric of her simple white bra. Her whole body tensed as his callused thumbs chafed against the taut tips of her breasts, and suddenly she was desperate to feel his mouth against them.
Moving her hands over the hard planes of his chest, she leaned towards him, arching forward, then gasped as his lips fastened on her breast.
She heard him grunt, and then he was lifting her onto the billiard table, pushing her skirt up. His thighs were between hers as he drew first one, then the other nipple into his mouth, his teeth scraping lightly over the rigid flesh.
She moaned weakly. It felt so good, so right...she’d had no idea it could feel like this. Hunger was surging through her and, sucking in a breath, she pressed her hand flat against the hard ridge of his erection.
Groaning, he lifted his head. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his chest stretched tight.
‘What is it? Is something wrong?’ she asked.
Breathing out shakily, he shook his head. ‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s just I haven’t done this in a while.’ He grimaced. ‘I don’t want it to be over before it’s started.’
Her eyes dropped from the flushed skin of his torso, moved lower. Half-naked, fully aroused, he looked amazing.
She felt a rush of nerves.
And intimidating.
‘Actually, I haven’t done it in a while either,’ she said slowly. ‘In fact, not very much at all.’
He looked at her, eyes appraising her, and then he cleared his throat. ‘But you have done it...?’
‘I’m not a virgin,’ she said quickly. ‘Why? Did you think I was?’
His fingers tensed. ‘Yes, just now...but only because I thought by “not very much” you meant not at all.’
‘I don’t want you to be disappointed.’
He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling, a dark flush in his cheekbones. Reaching up, he cupped her chin, his grey gaze skimming over her throat, her collarbone, her breasts...
‘Listen to me, Frankie, you do not disappoint.’
Her belly clenched as he brushed the thumb across her lips.
‘And, just for the record, it’s my job to satisfy you—not the other way round.’
She felt wetness between her thighs, and she dragged in a strangled breath as he dropped to his knees and kissed his way down her body, his roughened hands stroking her until she shook with need.
She didn’t remember it being like this. He made her want him so much.
Gently, he pushed her legs open, dipping his fingers into her slick heat, and then she felt his warm breath on the skin of her thighs as he parted her with his tongue.
Her head fell back, and she swayed, her fingers tightening around the lip of the table. Heat flared inside her and she dragged in another breath, trying to clear the dizziness from her head.
But his tongue was relentless.
Teasing, taking, tasting.
No one had ever touched her like this.
She felt helpless and hungry. His touch was dissolving her, the pleasure building as his hands slid under her bottom and he raised her up to meet his mouth.
The ball of heat inside her was pulsing in time with his tongue and her hands caught in his hair, holding him steady. She was lifting herself up, the pleasure tipping almost into pain as she rocked faster and faster, and then she spasmed, muscles tightening, tensing...
Heart thudding, she held on to him as he stood up, his eyes finding hers. Her hand slid over his stomach to the buckle of his belt, freeing him before she wrapped her hand around his hard length.
His breath hitched. ‘Turn round,’ he said hoarsely, and she felt a ripple of need shiver across her skin.
His hands gripped her waist and she braced herself, head spinning, as his lips trailed down her neck. She heard the sound of something being torn and dazedly realised that she had been too caught up in her climax to remember a condom.
He pushed into her slowly, his breath vibrating against her throat, and then he reached round her to cup her breasts as he started to move.
Her belly clenched as his hand moved to her clitoris, and she felt him accelerate in time to the second climax building inside her. Then he tensed, groaning, his big body engulfing her, his head falling against her shoulder.
For a moment he lay against her, breathing raggedly. and then he pulled back. Glancing down, she saw herself as he did. Skirt rucked up about her waist, bare legs, high heels...
Her breath caught. She felt stunned. She had never done anything like that before. Never felt what he had made her feel.
‘I...’ she said, searching for words. But there were none.
Their eyes met, and his gaze sent flickers of feeling everywhere.
Was this—? Should they—? Did he—?
She had loved how his body felt on hers, and she was suddenly desperate to touch him. Only she knew that if she touched him it would start up again, and that might ruin everything. This was enough. It had to be enough.
Leaning down, she scooped up her jumper and pulled it over her head. ‘I should probably go up now. I’ve got to pack.’
He stared at her, tall, silent, his eyes dark, his face expressionless.
‘Then I’ll let you go,’ he said.
It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. But it took every ounce of willpower she had to walk past him into the dark corridor.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS GOING to be a beautiful day, Frankie thought, gazing out of the car window.
In London, she never really noticed the weather, except in terms of whether she could legitimately take a taxi. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d never even listened to a weather forecast.
But up here in Northumberland she found it mesmerising. It was like watching a magic show. One moment the sky was conjuring up flocks of grey clouds, like sheep, the next streaks of sunlight that pierced the grey like shimmering, iridescent ribbons.
Right now, the clouds were growing wispier by the minute, while on either side of the causeway the waves jostled one another half-heartedly before turning to foam.
Her pulse shivered. It was hard to believe this was th
e same sea that had almost swept her off the causeway. Hard, too, to believe that she was going home.
Taking a breath, she glanced furtively to where Arlo sat beside her, his large, powerful hands resting with deceptive languor on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the cobbled road.
She felt her body tense. Was he thinking the same thing? Or was he just counting down the minutes until they reached the train station?
Her heartbeat accelerated as she remembered the moment last night when he had leaned forward and kissed her. She’d told herself that their first kiss had been a one-off and that Arlo wasn’t her type.
But everything she’d told herself had been wrong.
Everything she’d known about sex had been wrong too.
She’d only done it twice before. Both with her ex, Aidan. The first time had been just awkward, and a little uncomfortable. The second had been better in terms of comfort, but afterwards she had wondered what all the fuss was about.
Now she knew.
Last night with Arlo had been a revelation. He had been a revelation.
As his lips had fused with hers it had been like flint striking rock. Everything inside her had been flame and heat. His body had felt so solid, so strong, and as she’d pressed against him, she’d had the sudden intense feeling that she wanted to stay in his arms for ever...
She pressed her hands together in her lap.
It wasn’t just intense—it was crazy.
And yet it had been so tempting...
To take it a step further.
To go with him upstairs and do it again, and again, and again...
But something had held her back—some sixth sense that had told her if she went further, she would soon be out of her depth. She’d already gone further than she probably should have.
Arlo obviously felt the same way.
He parked and had her suitcase out of the boot before she’d even taken off her seat belt. Clearly, he couldn’t wait to get rid of her, she thought as she struggled to keep up with his pavement-eating stride.
‘All right, Mr Milburn. I thought you only just got back. Where you going this time, then?’
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