‘Ha-ha, Michael.’ Angelica took out her phone and waggled it at him. ‘No special envoy missions, but I do have to attend a function with my future husband tonight. Sebastian is feeling sadly neglected. Tara, I hope you don’t mind me leaving again so soon, but maybe you have enough to get on with the sketches?’
‘That’s exactly what I’ll do. And I’ll see you back in London in maybe two weeks. I’ll email you, of course, before then. We can narrow down what you like and then take it from there. I’ve loved this, Angelica, I really have. It’s been so helpful.’
She stood and the girls hugged. Not the usual fashion set kiss-the-air-next-to-the-air nonsense, but proper affectionate hugs. It took him aback. Surely she was just one of Angelica’s projects—nothing to get worried about. Nothing to do with the fact that he had been deliberately touching her less than thirty seconds earlier. That had been for Tara’s benefit, to keep her on the up. Last thing he wanted was his sister reading anything more into it.
‘You want to eat now? Maybe go out later—since it’s your last night? Fern is going to be staying at school all week. So there’s not a problem if you want to just chill. Work on your sketches? Or I could cook later—another option. Just let me know what suits you, Tara.’
Angelica had gone and the air had settled back down. It was just the two of them again. No staff, no noise. She turned where she stood. Her blue eyes so vibrant in her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were plump and parted.
The urge to grab her was immense and he walked to her. ‘You’ve finished sketching, right?’
She looked down at her piles of paper. ‘I think I’ve done enough for now.’
He could almost feel her wavering. She knew he was bursting to touch her again. But he also knew that they needed some kind of honesty before she would go back there with him. Kissing was one thing. But she was right. He wanted more of her—much more of her. But here. Now. End of.
There was no way this could be repeated because it didn’t fit in with his life. And he didn’t fit in with her life either. So maybe the best thing would be to have that discussion and then get down to exploring the depths of their chemistry. That way everyone was walking into this with full disclosure and there could be no hurt on her part. And no need to revisit anything on his.
‘Tara.’
Just her name. But even that brought a crackle of passion to the air. She looked up sharply. Narrowed her eyes at him. No doubt she was trowelling bricks into place even as she stood there. No time to lose.
‘I really want us to finish what we started. I need to. I think you need to, too.’
She touched the chair next to her and he saw her fingers curl round its back. ‘I think I need distance from you, Michael, not closure.’
‘I know I hurt you. But that’s more because of your imagination than anything I ever did. Sure, I was off hand when I first met you. You’re not my type—on paper you’re not my type at all. All I did was try to ignore that. But the minute we were alone in the car, and then in my apartment… Tara, I can’t keep my hands off you. Look at you—look at what your body does to me. I’m aching, just standing next to you. Just knowing that we have a last few hours together. You do things to me that I can’t ignore any more.’
Her eyes were wide and dark. She was ready for him. He looked over to her, caressed her with his eyes—couldn’t stop himself if he tried. The tight silk blouse she wore showed him everything that was going on with her body. Her perfect rosy nipples were fully erect and straining through whatever underwear she was wearing. Her chest was heaving with deep, uneven breaths and he knew as he trailed his eyes further down that she was going to be as ready for him as he was for her.
An electric storm seemed to have filled the room.
She’d stopped building her wall.
One more minute and he’d knock the whole thing down.
‘You know how it feels when we’re together, Tara. Our mouths fit. I’ve never kissed anyone the way I kiss you.’
She nodded. There was no way she could deny it. Their kisses were dynamite.
‘Your skin is like silk, and when I run my hands over any part of you it makes me want to follow it with my mouth. I want to lick and touch and kiss my way over every inch of you, Tara. And that hasn’t happened yet. It needs to happen, Tara. Take your blouse off. Let me see that skin. Please.’
She put her fingers to the sides of her blouse and began to finger the long strands of silk that tied it together. His eyes fell to her chest, to the creamy cups that were now being uncovered. He could not imagine anything he wanted to do more than touch her, hold her, and make her cry with pleasure as he fixed his mouth round each of those firm nipples.
He walked a step closer. ‘You look so beautiful.’
But she stopped. Stepped back. ‘Michael—this is…it’s too much. It frightens me. You frighten me with what you do to me. What you can make me do even when I know what you really think of me.’
He had it. Finally. The way in.
He shushed her. Shook his head and lifted her jaw into his hands. Gazed down at those bright blue open eyes. ‘Tara—what I really think of you? I think that you’re an amazing girl. Amazing. I respect what you’ve done in your life. Your bright, quick mind and your unending energy. You know I love your body. I can’t believe myself how much. But we have to be open. We’re on different life tracks. That’s all. And, yes, I’ve been a fool the way I’ve tried to put that across, but that’s all it is. This body of yours screams to me. I’ve got to have it, Tara. We’ve got to explore this while we’re together. That’s not wrong. Not wrong at all. It’s all right. All good.’
And he dipped and tasted her mouth. Let his lips find its form and trace its path. Snaked his tongue inside and trailed it to meet hers. Duelled with it. Absorbed the sensations coursing through her, knowing that she was being washed clean with hot sexual energy and that she wasn’t fighting back the tide any more. She was with him, moaning into his mouth and grinding her hips into his.
His erection responded, throbbing with pleasure, and he fought the urge to rip their clothes off right there. He ran his hands over her bare flesh, unhooked her bra and filled his palms, watched her head fall back and took his mouth down that pale column, sliding kisses and tongue. Eating her.
‘Bedroom—now.’
Dark, sensually drugged eyes closed for a moment when he scooped her up. She was soft and warm in his arms. Precious. He got through doors and up to his bedroom. She held on to him and slid down him. And then she became a wildcat. Her hands were all over him, tearing at his clothes. He helped her—ripped his shirt off, tore everything else off.
She dropped to her knees and took him. Mouth wrapped right round his erection and tugged softly but expertly. He groaned out loud and ran his hands through her hair, pulled her up sharply before it was all over. She looked wanton and wild. Half crazed. Her flesh was pink and damp with perspiration already. She was still half clothed and he needed to see all of her. Both of their hands landed on her waistband and he left her to tug off her trousers while he filled his mouth and hands with every other part of her.
Finally she was ready—naked, half lying back on the bed. Her perfect breasts were bared and the V between her thighs screamed for his mouth. He opened her legs and ran a finger to feel her wetness, knowing it would turn him on even more to see how lost she was in him. And just that touch, that feeling of her, so swollen and wet—it undid him.
Where were the condoms? It felt like life or death—he was so far gone. He fumbled to find them and quickly sheathed himself.
‘Tara, I’ve got to do this. Can’t hold on—you’re driving me—’
And he found her and plunged in. Felt her heat close around him and squeeze him. He rode her, looking down at her beautiful face, her eyes open, watching him. And that turned him on even more. She was pulling his
orgasm out already. He couldn’t stop. She was the best. She felt so good, so right. He felt the moment switch—knew there was no going back—and he was shooting inside her as he’d never done before.
He collapsed onto her, still hard, still breathing as if his heart was about to burst. But he knew she needed him and he raised himself up on his elbows. Looked down on her. Felt he was looking right inside her. And what he saw was just right. Strangest thing, but that was the only way he could call it. He kissed her long and slow. Poured that feeling right in there. And it was as if he was buoying her up.
She took it, and loved it, and it was she who took charge. She slid out from under him and he rolled over. Then she climbed above him, rested her knees on either side of his head and dipped herself down on him. He was instantly hard again. Had never seen or felt anything more erotic. He pulled her hips just where he wanted them and tasted her, turned her inside out with his tongue. He touched himself and knew that the minute she came he wanted her all over again. She was heaven. And hearing her scream out her orgasm made him feel more of a man than anything he could remember. She was wild. She was beautiful. She was all woman.
He brought her down to him and kissed her exhausted face and chest and stomach and legs, and then he resheathed himself and found the core of her again. They lay together, sliding across one another. Two bodies that somehow seemed to have fused. Two mouths wildly tasting and kissing and two hearts beating the fervour of this passion.
He opened his eyes and knew she had just done the same. Something bigger than sex was happening between them. He would deal with it. He couldn’t name it, but he would deal with it. Touching her inside and out right now was all he could do. And he did it until he felt her build to another orgasm, and then he held back, had to feel her clench around him. Had to. And the moment came with some sort of primordial power. He burst inside her, throbbing his release over and over again. The wildest, wildest time of his life.
‘Tara…’ He smoothed her hair and nestled her in his arms. She was molten. And he was going to make sure that she didn’t feel anything but cherished right now. They lay panting, flesh cooling. ‘That was…’
He laughed. Rolled her under him. Stared at her. She closed her eyes. Laughed back. Empty. He knew then that she was withdrawing. He could feel it.
‘You were—you are—so sexy, so beautiful.’
‘But still inappropriate.’ A hoarse whisper. Hardly heard.
He stilled. ‘Tara… Why?’ Her face was turned to the side. He grabbed her jaw. ‘Why would you sabotage what we’ve just done?’
She kept her eyes squeezed tight shut and her mouth formed a tight line. Her body was withdrawing and he saw her rebuilding her defences.
‘Tara. You need help. Your mind is so damaged. That was…it was beyond amazing. On so many levels. There was nothing inappropriate about it. It was one hundred per cent special and right.’
She had opened her eyes but they were staring ahead, at nothing. She said nothing.
He was still inside her—he eased off her but held her as close as he could. Didn’t matter. She was gone. Away. Curled up against his chest with a thirty-foot wall around her. He stroked her hair, kneaded her arm, murmured how sweet she was.
Nothing. What damage had been done to this girl to make her act like this? Was it his responsibility to find out? He couldn’t leave her like this. It was beyond terrible.
But she took the decision away from him. Got up. Spoke into the air.
‘Michael, you are a great guy. A great brother to your sisters. And I have had the best of times here. But, really, I think that maybe us doing that was a mistake. As you said, we’re on different life tracks. So, thanks. For a good time—a great time. But I’m going to get ready now—if you could get a car sorted? I need to get my plan ready for the bank. I’ve got those sketches to finish. I have to see what I need to do for Paris. I have so much to organise. Can’t believe it—should’ve made a list.’
He watched, transfixed. She moved around, her beautiful body still naked, picking up clothes, running her hand through her hair. She made it to the door. Opened it, turned to look over one shoulder and drop the most fake smile he could ever remember seeing. Coy, and sexy as Marilyn. And easily as damaged.
Just what had he done? What had he become involved in? And how did he sort it out? She needed someone. His mind was rolling. She needed to talk through what was poisoning her mind. She needed to be looked after—simple as that. She was the most vulnerable creature with the most impenetrable front.
And he was letting her walk right out of his life.
EIGHT
The bankers were freaks. Worse than she expected. And as for that half-assed so-called business consultant who had drafted the worst business plan… OK, so maybe she should have checked it over herself first. Or used a genuine recommendation rather than a favour from a friend of a friend, when—let’s be honest—she didn’t really have any of those. Party people were great in the good times. But as soon as your tank ran dry or your credit ran out they vanished faster than champagne at a free bar.
She’d have been better giving the five-hundred-pound fee straight to the Selfridges beauty counter, because she was already planning which totally unnecessary products she was going to have to buy as an upper after this brutal meeting. She closed her eyes and mentally picked her way across the ultra-bright pigmented eyeshadows that she knew already she was going to love—for about two weeks. And maybe some of the winter nail colours…she looked down at her destroyed cuticles, maybe not.
The lecture continued. The terms were being agreed. She should have brought her accountant, but that would have been more money. She could suffer this. She checked her watch. Saw the purple bruise on her arm. A finger-mark. Well, that was what happened when you had wild sex with the hottest man in Europe.
Her heart lurched again.
How many times could she take that sickening feeling that started at her diaphragm and swelled into her chest?
‘Are those terms agreeable, Miss Devine?’
‘Do I have any choice?’
‘Of course. You can walk out of here and see if you can find better terms elsewhere.’
She crossed her legs. Her skirt rode up and she didn’t give a damn. Her hold-up stockings were just the thing to make her feel that she had an advantage, because she could predict where their stupid eyes would fall and that gave her some small sense of satisfaction. Even as they looked down their conservative noses at her.
‘Yes, I’m sure I could. However, let’s not pretend that you’ve not hiked the rate up because you know my back’s against the wall and the clock’s ticking.’
She took the paperwork that appeared and signed her name. Stood. Smoothed down her purple silk jersey mini-dress that really didn’t need any smoothing. Offered her hand to first one then the other of these sweaty-palmed loan sharks and bolted.
That was one thing ticked off the list. The rest of the list was actually a blur. Everything was pretty much a blur. She knew she had some last-minute calls to make, and she wasn’t sure about some of next week’s details around transportation, and there was a niggle at the back of her head about some deal she’d negotiated with a blogger.
This just wasn’t like her. She was usually so on top of everything. And since she’d got back from Barcelona she’d been on top of nothing. In fact she wasn’t even in the middle of things. She felt as if she’d run head-first into a wall and was now lying at the bottom in a pile of rubble. She was physically exhausted, mentally exhausted, and—hold the front page—emotionally exhausted. It didn’t even feel like a come down. It felt as if the universe had reordered itself and she was spinning off alone into some other cosmos with no control and no way back.
She tripped down Oxford Street, eyes up, seeing nothing. Heading to offload some cash. Finding solace in crowds. Again. When had that st
arted? Heading home from school via every shop or friend’s house so that the journey never ended? Staying out of the way when she knew Grandpa Devine would be home before her? Leaving by the back door when he came in the front? Plotting and planning her escape. Dreaming of when she would be the one in control, not him. When she didn’t need to rely on anyone other than herself for anything.
And she had achieved that. As soon as she’d hit London she’d known that the world was hers now. Maybe one day she would loosen up and share some of the control with someone else, but she was still far too raw for that yet.
So what had she been thinking, getting into bed with Michael Cruz again? Of all the stupid, stupid things to do. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t taken up nearly all of her headspace just by being in the same house as her, and now for her to have placed her holiest of holies back in his possession… She had no one else to blame for this monumental downer.
She shoved open doors and involuntarily offered her wrist to the first perfume girl. She hated flowery perfumes. It was a flowery perfume. She sniffed it. Yuk.
Her phone lit up in her bag. Her eyes widened in hope—but, no. It was a message from a publicist friend who sometimes worked with her. There was a party tonight with a lot of key players. There was a hot young Danish boy with plenty of family cash in town, looking to bankroll some ‘assets’. Tara should get herself to Shoreditch and see if she couldn’t persuade Lars that investing in Devine Designs would provide all the assets he would ever need.
Tara’s heart sank. She should be pleased. This was a genuine opportunity. But the thought of it just exhausted her. All over again. What to wear, how to travel, how long to stay, how much to drink, who to chat to—the list went on. And all she wanted to do was soak in a bath and curl up in bed. But even that was a lie. She wanted nothing more on this earth than to lie in the arms of Michael Cruz.
The sex had blown her mind. She knew she’d acted as if it was even more pastel than vanilla. In fact, she’d told him that it was worse than ‘passable’. Had she really said that? To the man who had taken so much time over her? Who had relentlessly shown her care and concern, even trusted her with his secrets? Was she that much of a terrible person herself that she had to deliberately hurt him to keep him away from her? And that had worked so well!
Dressed to Thrill Page 10
