“Jack,” I said faintly, then I had to swallow because my throat felt dry.
“You’re beautiful.” He said it as if he’d only just realized. Then he started nodding to himself. “And I had no idea you were friends with Noah Steele. So you’re a celebrity—”
“And you’re an Olympic medalist, I hear.”
There was a beat of silence before he said, “Shooting. My dad taught me.”
I nodded back. “My dad encouraged me to sing.” Talking about our parents calmed me down. It was a million miles from the idea of sex.
“I’m glad. You were amazing.” He nodded again. “But of course, you know that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t normally sing with Noah Steele. That’s the first time I’ve met him. I just sing in a club—”
“Where drunks vomit on your shoes.”
That made me smile, despite the pulsing tension between us. “You weren’t drunk. I have that on good authority.”
“No I wasn’t. I only ever have one drink.”
“Just one?”
He shook his head and smiled, and my breath caught somewhere in my upper chest. Sweet Shiva, the man was breathtaking.
“And no illegal drugs. I’m boring that way.” His gaze slid over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my eyes again, and some crazy part of me wanted to say I’ll bet you’re not boring in bed but that would have been outrageously flirtatious and nothing like the Angela Lata I knew.
Besides, it didn’t need to be said. Anyone looking at him could see he was so hot he should come with a combustion rating. In that moment I wished I didn’t drink either, because the daiquiri that Jill had given me was making my head spin.
Or he was.
“I came to apologize,” he went on. “The club owner said you lost your shoes, and the nurse at the hospital told me about your medical bills. I’ve got insurance that will cover those things. It’s the least I can do.”
I nodded at that. It made sense. But… “How did you find me?” I hadn’t spoken to Bernie since I’d left the club. They wouldn’t know where I was.
“I Googled your name.” He shrugged in apology. “You were making an appearance here. I thought…it was opportune.” Someone jostled him from behind and he leant toward me. “Can we go somewhere quieter to talk?”
I’d barely noticed the crowd since he’d stepped in front of me. My concentration had been so intense. But as soon as I started looking around, I was thinking of escape. I felt so overwhelmed in his presence.
When I didn’t answer, he touched my fingers poking out of the cast. “I’m really sorry about this.”
I shivered with reaction, thinking about all the times in the last twenty-four hours that I’d imagined his fingers on my body. I seriously had to get control of myself or I might do something embarrassing. I’d had so much attention focused on me by the crowd, the last thing I wanted was to look like a fool in public. Especially over a man I knew so little about.
“I appreciate that,” I said, turning back to him, willing the tingling in my fingers to stop. My breasts felt as if they’d grown larger and were straining against my bra. It was uncomfortable and exciting and completely inappropriate in the middle of a crowd. “I’m here to support my friends,” I said plainly, because the longer I stood in front of him being devoured by those sexy brown eyes, the less in control of myself I felt. “I need to get back to them.”
“Of course.” He touched my good arm, perhaps as a parting gesture, his fingers so warm they sent tingles skittering in all directions, some straight to my nipples which were already on alert, and some that seemed to pulse lower down, making my breathing slow as I stared at him, wondering how he was triggering such a profound reaction with so little physical contact.
What was it? Those white teeth in his tanned face? The intensity of him? The way he watched me so closely? Or the fact that I’d seen him half naked and had imagined myself licking him all over?
“I understand that my presence is intrusive,” he went on, and I struggled to keep up with the conversation. “But I needed to see you. I’ve never hurt a woman before, and I just…” He faltered long enough for me to see a flicker of anguish before he smoothed that down. “I want to make it right.”
“You just want to make amends?”
He nodded and gazed at me impassively now, as if he’d been building up to something and finally had it out. I had a flicker of reality then, of realizing the whole sexual attraction thing could be completely one-sided. He’d said I was beautiful, but maybe that was just an intellectual appraisal.
And his gaze might not have been hungry. He might simply have been watching me closely to see how I was reacting. Maybe he had a wife or a girlfriend, and he felt nothing toward me beyond his need for redemption.
“I see.” I swallowed a few times before I could get myself organized for any sort of response. He just watched me patiently, and when someone walked close by, he protected me with an arm, so their drink fell on his sleeve instead of my top. He didn’t even glance at it. He just kept watching me as he said, “Are you all right?”
I nodded, but now I was confused. I didn’t know what to think of him. “What if I tell you I’m fine and you don’t need to make amends—”
“I’ll have trouble believing that. I’ve caused you problems.” He nodded at my cast. “My liability insurance can pay for your medical costs and for any loss of income.”
Okay. That would be a huge help, but it might mean seeing him again, and I wasn’t sure I wanted that. I was feeling more embarrassed as the minutes ticked over, convincing myself that I was a mass of seething hormones and he was all business.
I quite desperately wanted to touch him, and I’d never felt that before. I’d fantasized about being touched but I’d never ached to slide my fingers across warm tanned skin, down that enormous chest and across the dusting of hairs on his abdomen to…
I sucked in a horrified breath and shot my gaze back to his face. Manners dictated that I shake his hand and walk away—fast—but I didn’t trust myself to be able to let him go while my traitorous body clearly wanted to have sex with him in a loud and totally unladylike manner.
“I need air.” I took a step backwards. It was the first thing that had come into my head. I seriously needed to get away from this man.
But before I could, he took my hand and led me outside the shop and along the footpath, away from the claustrophobia of the crowd who’d spilled out with their drinks and their plates of miniature cupcakes and sushi. I stared at the odd combination on the tiny plates, trying to distract myself from the heat of his hand in mine and the utter recklessness I felt trotting beside him to keep up with his long strides. I even told myself it was typical Fritha to come up with such a crazy combination of food.
I’d never do anything like that. I was traditional. Sensible. Predictable.
I was also walking away from the safety of my girlfriends into a starlit night with an almost-stranger who was leading me, Shiva only knew where. I should be terrified, but as we went further from the well-lit shopfront, I realized my heart was racing with excitement and reckless exultation.
That frightened me.
I tugged on his hand and said, “Where are we going?”
“You wanted air.” He kept leading me along the beautiful tree-lined street, and I stupidly followed, completely dazzled by the feel of his warm hand holding mine, by the sexiness of his stride and the sensation of being overwhelmed by my own desire.
The air was incredibly clear and I realized then that I wasn’t drunk. My senses were too sharp—magically sharp in fact. I had to be intoxicated with the idea of having him to myself, even if it was only for ten minutes.
I had no idea where we were going so it was completely ridiculous not to call a halt to it, but singing with Noah Steele had somehow changed me. My reality filter had skewed and my internal voice had stopped criticizing me.
In fact, it was saying: Why shouldn’t I walk off with the sexie
st man in the room? Wasn’t I a beautiful Indian diva about to get my own agent and quite probably be seen all over YouTube singing with a mega star?
Why shouldn’t I have adventures?
We came to a side street and he turned down it. And still I followed, much to my own astonishment. The area was residential, and after passing houses with beautiful rose gardens, he stopped at a gate and opened it. The pretty garden inside was awash in warm yellow light emanating from a tiny Federation style cottage which had grey weatherboards and white wrought-iron scroll-work.
As he walked me down the brick path and up the handful of steps, I smelt jasmine and saw hanging baskets of pansies decorating the encircling veranda. Without releasing my hand, he opened the front door and led me inside.
I was about to ask who owned the house and why it had been left unlocked when he turned back and closed the door, looming over me in the process. I stepped back in surprise, my plaster cast clunking against the door a second after it clicked shut, then instead of looking at his tie, I tilted my head to look into his eyes which seemed suddenly very dark with the hallway light behind him. I could hear blood pounding in my ears.
“Angela,” he said softly.
“Jack.” I couldn’t breathe. The way he was looking at me left no doubt in my mind that the attraction was mutual. I felt hot and dizzy and reckless. And probably because of that I did the craziest thing I could imagine.
I grabbed his tie and pulled him down to my lips.
I. Grabbed. Him.
That was my last cohesive thought before his lips slanted over mine and he pulled me up against that incredible chest which was every bit as hard as I’d imagined it would be. My world closed down to the taste of his mouth—coffee and sin—exploring mine with a thoroughness that was breathtaking.
My body felt like a distant throbbing as I tasted him, then he slowed the kiss and the tip of his tongue slid along the inner flesh of my lower lip. Goosebumps broke out across my body as I shuddered helplessly in his arms, feeling pleasure radiate out and tingle me from scalp to toenails.
My breasts felt as though they’d push their way out of my loose top, and there was no question that I was ready for sex. I’d bet money that my panties were damp. Then one of his hands slid down from my shoulder-blade to my waist, scorching a path of heat that shocked me.
“Angela.” He pulled back marginally so he could look into my eyes at close range, then his hand slid even lower to cup my ass.
I sucked in an unsteady breath, but he just kept staring at me and I stared boldly back, as if I let strangers touch me so intimately all the time. And I didn’t say stop.
So he kissed me again, softly, giving me time to catch up with the giddying pace of my arousal.
When he pulled back, he said, “I feel like that kid in the Willy Wonka factory looking at the river of chocolate. You know the one?”
I nodded. For weeks after I’d first seen that movie I’d wanted an oompa loompa as a playmate.
He moved in close and nosed my hair away from my ear to whisper against it, his breath hot and his voice low, “You’re so delicious I want to gorge myself.”
My legs started to wobble, and my good arm clung to his shoulder for support.
“You didn’t say no.” He pulled back to look into my eyes again. “So I’m going to carry you into the bedroom now.” He paused for a second. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
I could have wasted time telling him that I don’t do this normally—that I’m actually a good girl. But there was no point, because in that moment I wasn’t any sort of girl. I was a woman who wanted the wildest, hottest, most mind-blowing sex he could deliver. I honestly couldn’t think past that.
Whatever baggage I’d been talking to Jill about was obliterated by the shockingly intense sensations tingling over my skin and throbbing inside, waiting to be liberated, and I didn’t care how.
Since the moment I’d started singing that first Renee Geyer number I’d felt incredible, like somebody I didn’t recognize—somebody I wanted to be—and whatever was going to happen between Jack and I was simply an extension of that.
So I said, “I want you. Too.”
Which was honest, and probably as articulate as I could manage at that point. But in the next second, my phone burst into life with a musical ringtone.
“You sexy thing you. I believe in miracles…”
That would be Jill.
His hands slid off my body and he stepped back, staring at me as if I was someone he was suddenly unsure of.
I swayed for a second, then realized I had to answer it. Jill would be worried. So I scrabbled around the long strap to find my purse which had fallen to my side. I pulled out my phone, slid a finger across it to answer the call and immediately heard, “Ange, where are you?” in a loud voice with lots of background noise.
I pushed the phone to my ear. “I’m with Jack.” I stared up into his eyes. He was frowning now.
“Oh.”
“At his house,” I elaborated. “Possibly about to have sex with him.”
“Oh!”
Jack’s frown morphed into a smile that was so sexy I couldn’t breathe. He mouthed, “Definitely about to have sex,” and I couldn’t help smiling back. A shaky smile.
“I just…so you’re safe?”
Jack nodded. She was shouting over background noise, so it would have been easy for him to hear her.
“Yes, I’m fine. Can I ring you…later?” I’d been about to say tomorrow, but I wasn’t sure how long Jack intended to ‘entertain’ me, and didn’t want to assume anything. Despite the fact that I was about to get intimate with a virtual stranger, I still felt constrained by manners.
“Sure. You know where we’re staying.”
It was a local Bed & Breakfast and I had my key in my handbag, so if Jack wasn’t planning to make me breakfast, I could taxi it over there later.
“Thanks for checking in with me,” I said sincerely.
“Have fun, and no faking it!” she shouted.
CHAPTER SIX
I blinked in shock, and Jack’s delicious mouth fell open as he stared at me. I quickly ended the call and put the phone in my purse, zipping it shut decisively before having the courage to raise my chin and meet his gaze.
“Faking it?” he asked softly, and I felt so mortified my face could have lit kindling. I’d just been thinking it was lucky that Jill’s call hadn’t killed the mood, until her last comment. Now any sort of arousal I might have indulged in was thoroughly derailed. I’d gone from feeling like a sex goddess to a lame duck in the space of one sentence. Really, Jill had absolutely no discretion.
“Angela?” He was clearly waiting for an explanation, but I didn’t owe him anything. I barely knew him. Besides, the sick humiliation swirling low in my belly demanded I walk out with my dignity intact, and that was just what I intended to do.
“This was a mistake.” My voice was calm and I was proud of that. But as I turned to open the front door, his hand landed on it, above my head, keeping it shut.
“No,” he said quietly from behind me. “Faking orgasms is a mistake. This is an opportunity.”
His free arm slid around my midriff, pulling me back against his body where I could feel something very hard pressing against my lower back. I didn’t want to feel anything—didn’t expect to feel anything over my embarrassment—but the moment he touched me the tingling heat spread around my body again.
When I didn’t pull away, he stopped holding me in place to caress me, his thumb rising to stroke against the bottom of one breast as he leant down to whisper in my ear. “I don’t come until you do, Angela. That’s our rule. Every time.”
Sweet Shiva. How many times was he expecting to do it?
I shook my head, trying to clear it, to concentrate on what he’d said. I don’t come until you do. I’d never heard that rule. Never imagined a rule like that. It was ridiculous. Men wanted sex far more often than women did. Why would a woman even try to have an orgasm every t
ime they…
But what if I wanted sex as often as a man did?
What about looking after children?
I shunted that thought aside to consider the outrageous and completely liberating idea that I might have quite a rampant libido if I was with someone I was attracted to. Maybe I would want an orgasm every time. Maybe I’d demand it?
No. I knew I’d never demand that. But Jack was offering it. And maybe for one night of my life I could be the woman I wanted to be, instead of the woman I thought was expected of me.
Tomorrow I’d be gone, and it didn’t matter what Jack thought of me. What really mattered was what I thought of me. And this could be the perfect way for me to discover who I really was, as a sexual woman. I shouldn’t walk away from that, even if I was embarrassed.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face him so I said over my shoulder. “I’ve been a faker.” Wow, that was hard. “I’m not doing that anymore.”
He said nothing for ten long seconds, then, “You were married. The girl on accounts told me about your insurance being cancelled. Did you fake it with him?”
I nodded.
“But now you live with a man.”
I felt my body stiffen as I thought What the hell?
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I wheedled your address from the hospital, and I went there looking for you. He’s too young to be your husband.”
I swallowed down a sense of invasion. “You had no right—”
“Are you faking with him too?”
This is too much. Walk away.
But I didn’t. Instead I said, “Kamal is my cousin, not my lover. And why do you care?”
“Do you have a lover?”
“Do you?”
Seconds ticked over before I realized he wasn’t going to answer that, so I came back to my truth. This was my opportunity to be honest. I had nothing to lose. “I haven’t been attracted to anyone else…that way.”
My sideways ponytail exposed the back of my neck and I felt his breath there, making me hot and melty. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “But you’re attracted to me that way.”
I nodded to myself. “Yes I am.” There was no point in denying it.
Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 6
