Edible. Delicious.
“This had better not be some tactic you’re using to try and win our bet,” she said suddenly, her eyes narrowing.
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“No reason.” She lifted a shoulder. “I just want to know what I’m getting into.”
“My bed, preferably.” A cocky smile came over his lips—it was his mask. An automatic reaction to the insinuation that he’d sleep with her just to win a bet.
That was how it’d always been. When people tried to knock him down, he only acted more confident. More in control. Attitude could trump a lot of things, he’d learned, and so it had become his shell. His shield.
“I’m serious, Evan.” Stella drew her shoulders back. The change in posture thrust her breasts forward and the dress pulled tantalizingly across her chest. As the fabric moved he caught a glimpse of cream lace against her lightly tanned skin. “Sex and business don’t go hand in hand for me, but I don’t know how you operate.”
Ouch. The insult socked him in the chest. “You really think I’m that much of a bastard?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
He had to battle some deeply rooted distrust, that much was obvious. “Look, Stella, I’m attracted to you and I think we could have a good time together.”
“So you’re just looking for a warm body?” Her expression was conflicted—desire and logic warred in her eyes.
“I’m looking for your warm body. If you want some big speech about how you’ve changed my mind about relationships, I won’t give it to you because that’s not true.” He brought his wine glass up to his lips and drained the rest of his drink, hoping to chase away the little voice in his head trying to tell him she was different. “But I’m not going to booty-call someone else if you say no.”
“What a gentleman,” she teased.
“I want you, plain and simple.” His cool tone belied the melting pot of excitement and need bubbling inside him—he’d never been the kind of guy to spend a lot of time chasing women. Truth was, he didn’t need to. But everything he’d said to Stella was true. He wanted her. Badly. Desperately.
As he’d done the night he’d turned her away.
“Plain and simple,” she echoed. “I like the sound of that.”
…
She didn’t drink like this. She never wore clothes to attract a man’s attention. She most certainly did not have one-night stands. But that was exactly what he was proposing, and her body was crying out: yes, yes, yes!
Evan slid his hand across the table, palm up, in invitation. “How am I doing?”
“You’re going to have to work harder than that.” She pressed her palm to his with the intent of pushing his hand away, but he caught her wrist.
“I can work very hard.” He brought her hand to his mouth, his lips pressing against her palm, then the underside of her wrist. He kissed the pad of each finger in turn, every touch growing the ball of tension inside her. “You just need to tell me what you want.”
“I—I,” she stammered, all sense of time and space eluding her. “I didn’t come here for this.”
“I know.” Under the table his knees knocked against hers. “But you can want things you didn’t intend to happen.”
His finger toyed with the sleeve of her dress and tucked under the fabric, caressing her arm. It was such a subtle gesture, but the soft drag of his fingertip against the bare skin above her wrist sent shock waves of pleasure through her.
Didn’t she deserve this? Hadn’t her life been filled with so much pain lately that she’d earned a little fun?
Suddenly it dawned on her that they were in a restaurant, in public, with people at nearby tables. Stella sucked in a breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she whispered.
“So let’s skip dessert and go home.”
His words encouraged the gentle throbbing between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together. It had been a long time since she’d been intimate with a man. There hadn’t been anyone since her fiancé and celibacy wasn’t sitting well with her right now.
“We need some ground rules,” she said, feeling the last ounce of restraint slip from her mind.
“What kind of rules?”
“Like it’s a one-time only deal, no emotions, no attachment.” There was a part of her that wanted desperately to believe it was possible, that she could let go and fill the aching loneliness with something geared purely toward pleasure. “It won’t have any bearing on what I choose to do with the estate.”
She had to force the words out slowly, so as not to clue him in to the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. She had to be in control, especially if she was going to trust him enough to sleep with him.
“What happens in London stays in London,” she added.
“Fine.” He threw some money onto the table and stood, holding a hand out to her. “I solemnly swear to follow the rules just this once.”
They slipped on their coats and he ushered her out of the crowded restaurant, his hands on her hips as they navigated the narrow space. She wondered if people knew that they were stealing away to do something naughty.
A one-night stand.
Never in her life had she wanted to separate sex and emotion. The first time she’d gone to Evan, it was because he’d made her feel safe, wanted. Desirable. But where had it gotten her?
Maybe shielding her heart and drawing a line of separation between the two was the smart thing to do. The evolved thing to do.
They walked out into the chilly night air to hail a taxi. Evan’s breath was hot at the back of her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I can’t wait to get you out of these clothes.”
“Me, either.” She let her head rest back against his shoulder and looked straight up.
Snow drifted down from the sky, the flakes falling in a lazy, drifting motion until they melted on impact with her coat. It was almost magical how impermanent they were. Existing one minute and dissolving into nothingness the next. She stuck her tongue out to catch one but felt nothing.
“There’ll be plenty more where that came from when we get back to the estate.” He held his arm out and a taxi pulled up in front of them. “Don’t bother with London snow, it won’t stick around.”
They slid into the back seat and Evan gave his address to the driver. The traffic looked heavy, since most people would be heading out now, rather than heading home like them.
The taxi’s heater blasted and Stella wriggled out of her coat. The constant temperature fluctuations combined with the wine and lack of dinner were making her head a little fuzzy. She almost didn’t notice Evan’s fingertips skimming her thighs to where her dress ended. She’d picked up a pair of stay-up stockings from Selfridges during her shopping trip, though they’d been more to make her feel confident than to be on show.
His hand slid under the hem of her dress and curved around her thigh. A sense of urgency surged through her. Everywhere his hand moved, she ached. He traced a line slowly upward to where she wanted to be touched most. To where she’d known nothing but her own hand for months on end.
He paused as he brushed the lace trim of her stockings, his eyes widening. Tucking a finger inside the band of the stocking, he snapped it against her. Gasping, her eyes flicked to the front of the cab but the driver appeared to be concentrating on the road. Oblivious. The inherent naughtiness of their interaction shot her body temperature skyward, causing heat to prickle along the back of her neck.
He leaned over to her, his lips against her ear. “I want to touch you now.”
She nodded. Encouraged, he moved his hand farther up the inside of her thigh until his fingers grazed the lacy fabric of her underwear. As he gave her a single, delicious stroke, pleasure zinged through her, tightening her muscles and eliciting a strangled murmur of excitement. She was fighting a losing battle to remain calm. He was experienced, skilled. And he knew it.
“Want me to get a little more creative?” His voice was as calm as
if he were offering her a cup of coffee. Smug bastard.
“Mmm hmm.” She nodded, unable to stop the desire coursing through her. Willpower was nothing against a sex drive allowed out of dormancy.
He traced the outline of her underwear, his fingertips grazing her folds through the thin fabric. She was hungry for him, her body crying out for more. Instead, she bit down on her lip and let her eyes flutter shut.
The prolonged anticipation reached unbearable heights. When his fingers brushed her clit she almost yelped, but the possibility of the driver hearing her made her hang on to her last vestige of control.
…
In the back of the cab, streetlights danced across her skin as London rushed past. It was hard for Evan to restrain himself from letting go completely, especially with the way Stella had responded to his touch. She held her coat over her lap, giving him the cover he needed to begin their exploration. But he wasn’t going to let her have what she wanted. Not yet.
Part of him hoped that getting her into bed would put a stop to the lust that’d been driving him to distraction ever since they met on the plane. The other part of him knew that with a girl like Stella Jackson, one taste would never ever be enough. No matter what rules they laid down. But there was no turning back now, not when she was staring at him like she was about to pounce.
“You’re a bad influence. You know that, right?” she whispered in his ear as he pulled his hand back. Even in the dim lighting of the cab, her cheeks flushed bright pink.
“I could say the same of you.”
“You were the one who couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“You wanted me to be creative.” He shrugged.
“That wasn’t creative.” A wicked smile curved her lips. “That was downright blunt.”
“Whatever works.” He leaned in so that his lips were inches from hers, but he didn’t give in to the pull between them—he wanted to have her begging for it. Begging for him.
Her plush lips parted in anticipation and then pressed together in a pout when she realized that she wasn’t getting what she wanted. Sliding her hand down his leg, she reached for his wrist and pulled his hand back to her stocking-covered knee.
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s like that, is it?”
Determined to beat her at the little game they’d started, he danced his fingers along her thigh and he kissed his way from her temple to her ear. He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently.
“Evan!” Her protest was hushed, hoarse. Her eyes flicked toward the driver, who was either oblivious or had seen so much worse that their teasing didn’t rank on his radar.
They rounded a corner and the momentum pressed her body against his. He felt his cock lurch as her sweet, lithe legs rubbed against him, her hand squeezing his knee. It had been so long since he’d slept with anyone, months.
Lately, women didn’t interest him. Most of them were on the prowl for a husband and the older he got the more restrictive his tastes became. He wasn’t into the clingy, insecure ones who were worried about being left on the shelf. It was exactly the reason Stella appealed to him, she was feisty, independent—prickly, even. He loved that she had a fire in her; she didn’t take any of his crap.
Still, he couldn’t take any chances with her, given how messed up their current situation was.
The taxi pulled up in front of his building and Evan stepped out, extending his hand to help Stella to her feet. Her high heels were unsteady on the sidewalk and she leaned against him for support. Clouds of condensation billowed as their breath connected with the night air. Despite the chill, their bodies were generating enough heat to keep an entire city warm.
Holding hands, they made their way through the foyer of his apartment building and into a waiting elevator. He wanted to grab her then, ravish her in the close confines of the elevator’s mirrored walls. But he held back, drowning in sweet anticipation. He could feel Stella’s edginess, her foot tapped impatiently as they ascended. She raked her gaze over him, lingering for a moment on where he was hard beneath his trousers. She was sexy as hell, and he couldn’t wait to taste every inch of her.
With the ping of the elevator announcing their arrival, they rushed to his flat. He jammed the key into the lock and wrenched open the door. She followed him in, her hands on his hips. As the door slammed shut behind them, he threw his keys toward the couch and turned to her, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her in for a searing kiss.
Her mouth was hot, open. Demanding. Her hands wasted no time in finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt, and she pulled him to her with a ferocity that almost undid him. Her coat hit the floor with a soft thud.
She brought her hands to the scarf that was still around her neck and pulled, the blue fabric sliding seductively across tanned skin. Just when he thought she was about to drop it to the floor, she looped it around his neck and used it to tug him to her.
“Wow,” he murmured against her lips, enjoying the pressure of the material behind his neck. “Quite the seductress, aren’t you?”
“I saw it in a movie, once,” she said, blushing.
Against the backdrop of an inky sky and twinkling city lights, she looked like an angel—all fair hair, big blue eyes, and perfect skin. He could not have dreamed up a better vision if he’d tried. They stumbled to the couch. Two small hands pressed against his chest as she pushed him down until he was sitting. She straddled him, her arms draped over his shoulders as she lowered herself. His cock jumped as she brushed against him, the dress leaving little barrier between them.
“Stella.” His head rolled back, and her name escaped as a plea.
She pulled one earlobe into her mouth and sucked. The sensation caused electricity to run through him, sizzling him from the inside out. His hands found her thighs and he ran his palms up the length of them until he cupped her behind. She was firm, compact…perfect. Arching up, he pushed her down onto him. His erection throbbed at the feel of her sweet heat.
“I want this.” Her voice was low. Husky. Lust and disbelief swirled in her eyes, an inconvenient cocktail of emotion that mirrored his own feelings acutely.
“Me, too.”
“I shouldn’t, though,” she said as she writhed on top of him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Because of that night?” He kissed the little hollow at the base of her neck, enjoying the feel of her pulse at his lips. She nodded, but her body was alight in his arms. “I’ve thought about you so many times since then.”
“You have?” Her hands slid under the hem of his shirt, running up his stomach and settling at his chest.
“You have no idea,” he growled in her ear. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. I’d lie awake with my cock hard as stone thinking about you.”
“Then you should have said yes.”
He ached for her, more intensely than he’d ever ached for anything, ever. “I’m rectifying that oversight now.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Though, you’re the one who’s going to be saying yes over and over.”
“Am I now?” She laughed, the throaty sound tingling him all over.
“Screaming it, actually.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Keeping his grip on her, he stood and hoisted her up in his arms. “Then what the hell are we waiting for?”
Chapter Ten
This time, being weightless in Evan’s arms was exquisite. He had one large hand cradling Stella’s behind and his mouth was hard against hers, his other hand sweeping along the apartment wall, acting in place of his eyes.
The bedroom was illuminated by a small lamp. The gentle, golden glow made the room seem intimate, not that they needed any assistance in that department.
“I am so ready to get you naked.” He dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed and she let out a little shriek as her back hit the mattress. Stalking her like a predatory cat, he leaned over her, hands on either side of her waist. His palms pushed her dress up, and he nuzzled the sensitive spot b
etween her legs.
“Zipper,” she gasped, and he found the hidden fastening at her side. Within seconds she was in her underwear.
“You need to catch up.” She raised her foot to stroke his crotch. “Ditch the pants.”
He chuckled, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks before lowering his hands to oblige her demand.
As his trousers fell to the floor, Stella sucked in a breath. Strong thighs were her weakness, she saw them as a sign of virility and power. Evan had both of those things in spades.
Her whole body vibrated with want. The overwhelming need to have him flooded Stella’s body, scorching her from the inside out.
“Shirt.” She pointed her foot to his chest and he caught her ankle in his hand.
“You know you don’t get to be in charge for much longer,” he said, bringing his lips to the delicate joint. He placed her foot against his shoulder and ran his hands along the length of her leg until they reached the edge of her stockings. He hooked his fingers under the elastic band and slipped them from her one by one. Her underwear followed close behind.
Deft fingers stroked her, insistent enough to elicit a response yet delicate enough to deny her any kind of release. He knew exactly how far he could push her, how far he could take her without giving her what she wanted.
“I’m always in charge,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “The quicker you understand that, the easier your life will be.”
“I don’t think so,” he growled.
Without warning he pressed down on her, her ankle still hooked over his shoulder. She thanked God that she’d taken up yoga a few months back. This wasn’t a position for the weak of heart or hamstring.
“You might be able to push the boys around back home,” he said, his breath hot on her cheek. His eyes were sharp, intense. Arousal and tension simmered in equal parts between them, the power struggle turning Stella on more than she would admit. “But that’s not going to fly with me.”
She bit down on her lip, heart hammering an alarming staccato in her chest. She was acutely aware of pressure from his erection, his underwear proving to be an unsatisfactory partition between them. It was too thin for her not to feel each twitch and jump of his cock, and yet there was no skin-to-skin contact.
Millionaire Under the Mistletoe Page 10
