Ripped (Mills & Boon Cosmo Red-Hot Reads)

by Sarah Morgan

  I’d like to say lunch was delicious, but honestly I couldn’t have told you what I ate because Christmas lunch was all about the man seated next to me.

  When he reached across and forked turkey onto my plate all I saw were lean, bronzed hands and a dusting of dark hair on his forearms. He’d rolled his sleeves to the elbow. I guessed that was as close to casual as this man got.

  ‘Enough?’

  I looked at him blankly.

  ‘Turkey,’ he said gently and I blinked.

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ What was it about a man’s forearms? Although, if I were honest, it wasn’t just his forearms. It was all of him.

  He leaned forward to pick up a dish of potatoes and I saw the muscle flex in his powerful shoulders. Then he sat down again and this time he was thigh to thigh with me. Our legs might as well have been glued together.

  I experimented and eased my leg away slightly, but his followed.

  My heart swooped upwards like a paraglider hitting a thermal, taking my mood with it.

  Rosie glanced at me. ‘Is it good?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ I focused on my plate even though I knew she wasn’t talking about the turkey. ‘Brilliant. You’re brilliant.’

  People were swapping stories about their Christmas traditions, but I didn’t hear a word because I had this noisy, happy sound ringing in my head.

  Nico was here.

  Sitting next to me.

  And whatever our relationship had been in the past, right now it was hot and electric.

  I decided one of us had to say something or we’d draw attention to ourselves. ‘So what sort of lawyer are you?’

  He reached for his glass, although I’d noticed earlier that he was drinking water. Maybe he was afraid his control would slip if he drank alcohol. ‘A good one.’

  ‘That’s not an answer.’ I turned my head to look at him and of course that turned out to be a mistake because his wasn’t a face you wanted to look away from. I could have stared at him until I’d died of hunger, thirst or frustration, whichever came first. I could tell you at this rate it was going to be frustration.

  And of course, he knew. ‘You really want to talk about law?’

  There ought to be a law preventing a man driving a woman this crazy.

  His voice was so soft I knew no one else would be able to hear him.

  The blood was pumping through my veins and I could still feel his thigh pressed hard against mine.

  I was just about to make a second attempt at polite conversation, when I felt his hand slide over my thigh. The warmth of his palm pressed through my jeans and I almost jumped out of my seat with shock.

  I could no longer pretend any of this was an accident or that we were fused together because of a lack of space. He left his hand there, as if testing to see if I was going to jump, jog the table and knock all the glasses over.

  When I didn’t move, he slid his hand higher up my thigh and no matter what anyone said about some men, I could tell you there was nothing wrong with his sense of direction. He knew exactly where he was going.

  My stomach clenched. The excitement was almost painful. The chemistry was off the scale. I didn’t understand it, and I was good with all the sciences. I could explain nuclear fission but I couldn’t explain this. What I felt made no sense at all to me, but that didn’t stop me feeling it and also the frustration that came from being in public.

  There always seemed to be something between me and sexual satisfaction. In this case it was denim and a room full of my friends.

  I wished I’d worn a dress with stockings instead of skinny jeans and thigh-length boots, but he was obviously a man who didn’t let obstacles get in his way because his fingers moved higher and higher until he was pressing right there.

  I knocked my wine glass over. Fortunately I’d already drunk half of it, so we had a puddle, not a lake.

  ‘Oh, crap.’

  My sister threw me a look and a napkin. Then she turned back to her neighbour and continued the conversation.

  Nico didn’t move his hand, nor did he relax the pressure. As I said, obviously not a man to let anything stand in his way. I felt shivery and weak. The atmosphere between us was heavy, thick and so scorching hot I was surprised we hadn’t set off the smoke alarm.

  I decided I might as well make the most of the thigh-length boots and ran my foot up his calf.

  ‘More turkey, Hayley?’ A guy I knew vaguely from Rosie’s gym smiled at me from across the table and I smiled back, shook my head and murmured an acceptable response. It was a surprise to me I could still string a sentence together because I was gripped by raw desire and the delicious friction created by Nico’s clever, persistent fingers. The frustration was almost unbearable. I decided pleasure this good shouldn’t be one-way and slid my hand up his thigh and covered him. If I’d needed confirmation that he felt the same way, I had it now. His erection was a thick, hard ridge under my hand, pressing through the constraining fabric of his jeans. For a moment I was tempted to pull that zip down, but I decided I’d had enough public exposure for one year.

  ‘Answer me a question—’ His voice was soft and just for me.

  Given where my hand was, I was worried about what the question might be.

  ‘Only the one?’ I had millions I wanted to ask him, and then I remembered my resolution to have a sex-only relationship. I’d never done it before, but I was fairly sure a sex-only relationship involved—well, sex only. Asking questions about other things, particularly family, was a fast way of turning it into something I didn’t want. ‘What’s your question?’

  At the far end of the table Kiara was laughing with the man from Rosie’s gym. Either Nico hadn’t noticed, or he didn’t care. Obviously he wasn’t his sister’s keeper.

  ‘Are you broken-hearted?’

  He’d asked me the same question at the wedding. I hadn’t answered it. Why would I offer up something so personal to someone who disapproved of me?

  But now—?

  ‘No,’ I croaked. ‘I’m not broken-hearted.’

  He turned his head and gave me a look that told me nothing. ‘What time does your “friend Christmas” usually end?’

  ‘It’s been known to continue until New Year. Once we had a guest who enjoyed himself so much he stayed until we kicked him out on January 1. We were about to start charging him rent.’

  His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there.

  God, he was serious. I mean really serious. Most of the time I was pretty silly. My instinct was to joke around a lot, although I’d worked hard to rein that side of me in, especially around Charlie’s family, who had made no secret of the fact they found my sense of humour inappropriate (and that was before I’d burst out of my dress at the wedding).

  Nico confused me. I’d thought he disapproved of me, but here he was with his hand…where it was.

  I sensed something lurking behind those layers of ruthless control, something dark layered under the poker face he presented to the world.

  I wondered what his secrets were.

  Everyone had secrets, didn’t they?

  I wouldn’t have minded discovering a few of his.

  For once I wished our apartment were bigger. I loved it, but it wasn’t big enough for me to vanish to the bedroom without all twelve people around the table noticing. It was a miracle they hadn’t already noticed what was going on under the turkey. It was a good job Christmas was chaotic.

  I really should have helped clear the table, but honestly I couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. All that gentle under-table stroking had driven me crazy. I was so, so close and the building desperation was killing me and yet still he was relentless, stroking and teasing until I had to clamp my thighs together to stop him.

  I could feel him throbbing under my hand. Turning my head to look at him I met his gaze and saw that his eyes were darker than usual. Almost black. I shivered, wondering what it would take to make him drop his guard the way he had at the wedding. I’d never seen him laugh, but it occu
rred to me I’d never seen him show any other emotion either. Except desire. There was no missing that. It simmered in the depths of those black eyes and pulsed between both of us. I looked at his mouth and remembered how it had felt when we’d kissed. I knew that jaw would feel rough against my palms, because I’d had my hands on it only days earlier. I wanted to have my hands on it again.

  I was so absorbed by him I was only dimly aware of my sister bringing in the Christmas pudding, a perfect dome of alcohol-infused dried fruit brought as a gift by one of our guests. Rosie had put holly in the centre, doused it in more alcohol and set fire to it in traditional British style. What wasn’t so traditional was that as she put it down on the table, the flame licked one the napkins. It caught fire.

  Nico was on his feet instantly. Calmly, he doused the flames with a jug of water and then grabbed a pile of napkins and mopped up the water before it could do more damage. And all without ruining the pudding.

  ‘Hey, quick work.’ My sister looked shaken but she smiled at Nico and then at me, as if she was approving my choice.

  I was starting to approve of my choice, too. The man might be a little uncommunicative, but he was good to have around in a crisis. First my dress, and now this. He wasn’t a man who hesitated. And I liked the way he helped my sister with clearing the table before sitting down again.

  I was surprised our little fire hadn’t set off the smoke alarm, but Nico and I were producing far more heat than the flames on that pudding, so the smoke alarm was probably unconscious by now.

  I’d stopped eating and so had he. I wished there was a way to make Christmas lunch go on forever because I didn’t want today to end. But of course in real life good things always ended.

  ‘We have to leave now.’ He spoke softly so that no one else could hear, not that they were paying any attention to us anyway. They were too wrapped up in Christmas pudding and conversation.

  ‘Of course.’ I hadn’t expected him to leave quite this soon and the level of disappointment appalled me. The whole idea of a sex-based relationship was to avoid these emotional lows. Clearly I was doing something wrong. ‘I’m sure you and Kiara have lots to do.’

  ‘I’m not leaving with Kiara,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m leaving with you.’

  ‘Me?’ My mouth was drier than overcooked turkey breast. The same couldn’t be said for the part of me that was under his fingers. ‘I can’t leave. I live here. It’s Christmas.’

  He glanced at our friends, most of whom were by now laughing uncontrollably. ‘They’re happy. And I need to give you my gift.’

  ‘You bought me a gift? You didn’t have to do that.’ I felt a little embarrassed because obviously I didn’t have anything for him. Presumably he’d considered it an obligation to his host. ‘Why didn’t you just give it to Rosie when you arrived?’

  ‘It isn’t for Rosie. It’s for you. It’s personal.’

  ‘You could give it to me here.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He reached for his glass and I noticed that he was still drinking water. I wondered again whether this was all part of his determination to hang onto control. It scared me how badly I wanted to push him and rip it all back until I exposed the real him, but maybe that was because I’d been nothing but exposed in the past week, so it was definitely his turn.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because my gift is just for you. Not to be shared.’

  ‘How do you know it’s something I want?’ I jumped as someone popped a cork on another bottle of champagne. The movement increased the friction against his hand and I almost moaned.

  ‘I know it’s something you want, Hayley.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because you’d already typed it into a search engine on your laptop.’

  I was so distracted by the sensations exploding through my body, it took a moment for his words to sink in.

  When they did, I turned my head again.

  His eyes were velvet dark and locked on mine. There was a faint gleam of humour there, and something else—something that made my stomach twist and spin and then drop like a stone from a high cliff.

  ‘My laptop?’

  He leaned closer. His lips brushed my ear. ‘Did you manage to locate “The Niccolò”?’

  Heat poured over me and warmth pooled in my pelvis. If he was waiting for me to respond, he was going to be waiting a long time. I couldn’t form a word let alone a sentence. I made an inarticulate sound that drew Rosie’s attention.

  She frowned slightly, satisfied herself I didn’t need the Heimlich manoeuvre and drew everyone’s attention to herself by telling a funny joke that required sound effects and hand gestures.

  Did I mention I loved my sister?

  Nico didn’t seem to care what anybody else at the table thought. He was focused just on me and it was the sexiest, most intense experience of my life. Charlie had looked over my shoulder most of the time, as if conversing with me was an irritation he had to endure. The boyfriend I’d had before him used to just start talking about himself.

  I’d never had a man look at me the way this man was looking at me.

  As if everyone else in the room was inconsequential.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  His eyes were two shimmering pools of dark promise. ‘No? Because I happen to know where you can find what you were looking for.’

  God, his voice was sexy. And the way his breath warmed my neck. I quivered and shivered. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes.’ I could hear the smile in his voice and feel the sure, confident slide of his hand between my shaking thighs. ‘But you’ll have to come with me.’

  ‘You’re suggesting I leave my own Christmas party?’

  ‘You haven’t talked to anyone else since we sat down.’

  A burst of raucous laughter brought me back to the present and I glanced at Rosie, who winked at me and raised her glass.

  A different person might have scowled at the thought of being left with the washing up, but Rosie wasn’t like that.

  She’d set this up for me.

  This was my Christmas present.

  I owed it to her to make the most of it.

  Deciding that this was one gift I was going to unwrap in private, I pushed my plate away and turned to Nico. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter Six

  His car was still the same low red Ferrari. A growling gas-guzzling trophy of Italian engineering perfection.

  I wondered if I was supposed to play it cool and pretend I travelled in cars like this all the time. Then I remembered he’d seen me half-exposed in a torn dress and found my computer search. Cool had flown the nest. I sank into expensive leather and sighed.

  ‘Do you realize this has a 4.5 litre V8 engine? They reduced the piston compression height as they do in a racing engine. Oh, God, I love it. I want to crawl all over it and lick it.’ I restricted myself to stroking the dashboard. ‘I suppose being Italian, you have to have a car like this. You’re not compensating for deficiencies in your masculinity, are you?’

  His response was a slow smile because of course I already knew the answer to that question. I’d eaten Christmas lunch with one hand on his masculinity.

  It was the first time I’d seen him smile and it was worth waiting for. It pulled his mouth into a sexy curve that hinted at more hidden layers. I stared for a moment, fascinated. There was so much more to this man and I couldn’t wait to uncover those parts—all of them.

  This promised to be the best Christmas day I’d had in a long time.

  Glancing in the mirror, he pulled smoothly away from the curb and down the empty streets.

  It was still snowing. The Ferrari should have been a nightmare to drive in these conditions, but he didn’t seem to have any problems.

  Nico Rossi was a man who seemed to take everything in his stride, be it split dresses, table fires or a lethal road surface.

  ‘So I guess the ability to drive fast cars is in Italian DNA.’

  Risking life and limb, I
put my hand between his thighs.

  ‘Cristo—’ He breathed in sharply but kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. Impressive. As I said, this man had iron control. ‘You didn’t know Kiara and I were coming today. I assumed Rosie had discussed it with you.’

  ‘No. She sprung it on me.’

  Cursing softly, he pulled in to the side of the road, the movement so sudden I was surprised the airbag didn’t smack me in the face. ‘Tell me the truth.’ He spoke through his teeth and his eyes were a dark flash of molten passion.

  I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought him cold. ‘About what?’

  ‘About how you feel. I need you to be honest.’

  I had no problem with honesty. I preferred it, even though honesty meant exposing yourself. Not the split dress type of exposing—the other type. ‘I’m in your car. That should tell you how I feel.’

  ‘I just want us both to be clear about what this is.’

  I’d forgotten he was a lawyer. ‘You want me to sign a contract or something?’

  He shot me an exasperated look and I shrugged.

  ‘Sorry, just checking. If you expect me to read your mind, you’ll have to give me more clues. You don’t reveal anything about yourself. Most of the time I can’t even tell whether you’re happy or sad.’

  ‘What about turned on?’ His voice vibrated, low and sexy. ‘Can you tell when I’m turned on?’

  I thought about how he felt under my hand. ‘Those clues are easier to read.’

  ‘They’re the only clues you need.’ His gaze held mine. ‘I want you.’

  It shouldn’t have turned me on to hear that, but it did. In fact it was exactly what I wanted to hear. I didn’t want anything else.

  I wondered if the Ferrari came with a sprinkler system because I was fairly sure I was going to burst into flames at any moment.