‘Going to need a drink after all,’ he said. ‘No—don’t get up. Faster if I get it myself while you start going through the rules.’ He headed for her kitchen, with a final prompt. ‘Come on, Katie. Get it done for pity’s sake. I can hear you, I can see you—go.’
‘Right,’ she said. Basics. Basics were good. Fast was good. The sooner they agreed on the terms, the sooner she could have him.
Cupboard opening…clacking of a glass on the kitchen counter.
‘Two nights per week,’ she said.
Fridge door opening…closing. ‘What if I want more?’
‘Two per week is the minimum. We can negotiate additional days as required.’
He was pouring. ‘Okay. Next.’
‘Any costs incurred in pursuit of mutual sexual pleasure to be split fifty-fifty.’
He was back with his wine. ‘I can live with that.’
‘No public displays of affection.’
He was sitting. ‘Done,’ he said. ‘Nauseating stuff, PDAs.’
‘No kissing unless it’s sex-related.’
Scott held up a ‘stop’ hand. ‘Hang on. When is kissing between an unrelated man and woman ever not sex-related?’
She was blushing—she could feel it. Because this was an embarrassing clause. It presupposed he would want to kiss her outside of sex. But kisses led to affection. And trouble lay down that road. So, embarrassing or not, it was best to have it covered in advance.
‘I mean no kisses hello, goodbye—that sort of thing,’ she said. ‘Only kisses that lead to or are the result of sex.’
Scott looked at her mouth for a long moment. She thought he was going to object. But then he shrugged.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go on.’
‘Fantasies,’ Kate said, and felt the blush deepen.
‘We get fantasies?’ Scott asked reverently. ‘Yee-ha!’
Kate rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. ‘I thought you’d like that part of the deal. There are still rules, however. I’m suggesting a start phrase—if one or the other of us decides to enact a fantasy, a text message with “Play Time” is all that’s required—along with the date, time and place. And, of course, any outfits, devices and accessories will be provided by the fantasy’s owner.’
‘If you could see inside my mind…’
Kate laughed. ‘I’m sure I’ll be seeing what’s inside it very soon. But in addition to a start phrase we’ll need a trigger word which, when said, will stop the activity should one of us become uncomfortable with what’s happening.’
‘Why not just “stop”?’
‘Because that might be part of the fantasy—either a version of “stop” or “don’t stop”. Or it could mean “pause” or “wait” just as easily as it could mean “no more”. Better to have something unambiguous. Like…maybe…a name? Something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else and wouldn’t have anything to do with sex.’
Scott smiled—a particularly cool smile that made his eyes look like ice. ‘Let’s go with “Hugo”, in that case,’ he said.
‘Hugo?’
‘I can assure you that will stop me in my tracks.’
‘Fine,’ Kate agreed. ‘I don’t know any Hugos, so it won’t be confusing for me.’
‘What else?’ Scott asked, hands clenching and unclenching with impatience.
‘We’re up to confidentiality. The details of this contract must remain confidential.’
‘Okay. Are we done?’
‘Last point. Fidelity is assumed—’
‘Absolutely,’ Scott agreed promptly. ‘I don’t share.’
‘I haven’t finished. Fidelity is assumed, but should an unforeseen sexual encounter occur with someone other than the two parties covered by the agreement—if you or I—’
‘Yes,’ he interrupted. ‘I know what you mean. If you sleep with someone other than me; if I do someone other than you…’
‘Yes. If that happens it must be confessed prior to the resumption of any contracted sexual activity between us.’
But it seemed Scott had reached his limit.
He whipped the pages out of Kate’s hand, grabbed the pen, flipped to the final clause, scratched out some words, added something and initialled the changes.
‘That’s my input,’ he said. ‘No infidelity or the contract is null and void.’
Kate thought about insisting that it remain, because fidelity was for real relationships and this was not one of those—but in all honesty it was a relief. She’d seen too much of the aftermath of infidelity to be sanguine about it under any circumstances.
So…‘All right,’ she said. ‘Should one of us seek our pleasure elsewhere, the agreement is broken.’
‘You won’t need to look elsewhere, Katie. I’ll keep you so busy you’ll be begging for a break.’
He picked up the pen again, ready to sign.
‘Wait,’ Kate said, snatching the pen from him before he could put it to paper. She licked nervously at her top lip. ‘Scott, I think you should read the contract properly before you sign. You’ve found one clause you didn’t like—there may be some wording that’s unclear, or something else you’re uncomfortable with when you have time to think about it. And I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of your youth.’
Scott’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m twenty-seven—not stupid,’ he said. ‘And I hope we’re not going to waste a lot of time talking about my age. Otherwise I’ll be calling “Play Time” pretty damned fast and spanking you—and that’s not even a fantasy of mine.’
‘Not? Really?’
‘Really. Not into pain—giving or receiving.’
‘No spanking. Got it. Good. But, back on topic, you’re not as experienced with the law as I am, so—’
‘Boring subject. And not germane—there’s a lawyer word for you, to prove that not all twenty-seven-year-olds are ignorant morons. I just love lawyer words.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Am I deeding my firstborn child to you?’
‘No.’
‘Am I beholden to you for the rest of my life?’
‘No—just a month. Through to the twenty-eighth of February.’
‘Maybe I’d better read the contract, then, because that’s not going to work for us unless there’s an automatic rollover in there. Considering the size and intensity of my hard-on all three times I’ve been near you, I’m going to need longer than a month to do you every way I want to.’
Kate took a long, slow, silent breath. She’d never been with a man who talked so blatantly about sex. It should have been a turn-off—so why did it have the opposite effect? She had the feeling that if Scott Knight had bought her a martini and asked ‘Just how dirty do you like it?’ she would have offered to show him on the spot.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there is a rollover option in there.’
‘Right—so give me the damned pen.’
Kate watched as he scrawled his signature.
It made a funny feeling erupt in her stomach—almost as if she owned a part of him with that one dashed name. For a moment it frightened her. She didn’t want to own him. Didn’t want him to own her. Not in any way, shape or form.
He handed her the pen and she hesitated.
‘They’re your rules,’ Scott said, reading her easily. ‘So sign.’
She signed.
And then Scott pushed his chair back from the table, looked across at her. All that grimness was back, tenfold.
‘Now, come here,’ he said.
Chapter Five
KATE WALKED OVER to him.
‘I love that dress,’ he said. ‘Love that dress. But take it off.’
Kate forced herself to go slowly as she reached for the sides of the dress and started to roll the fine silk between her fingertips, raising the hem gradually. Their first experience, in the office, had been frantic and fast, sudden and shocking and blind. This time she wanted to control it. To offer herself to him one piece at a time. Tease him. Wow him.
Payb
ack.
Scott leaned forward in his seat, eyes intent on the hem inching upwards, until she reached her upper thighs. She paused there as Scott’s breathing became harsher, choppier. One more roll. Another. Bringing the hem higher up, up—until she was exposed from the hips down.
She saw Scott swallow as his eyes focused. ‘Like fire…’ he whispered. ‘Come closer.’
Kate took two steps until she was standing an arm’s length away. He reached out to touch, smoothed his fingers over the narrow strip of dark red hair.
‘Let me in.’
She adjusted her stance and Scott slipped his fingers between her legs, playing there until she was gasping.
He looked up at her. ‘Keep going. I want to see all of you.’
With that, Kate lost any desire for taking things slowly—so much for control!—and reefed the dress up and off. She tossed it to the floor and stood naked before him.
He kept his fingers moving in the moisture between her thighs while he looked up at her. He swallowed again as she pulled her hair back over her shoulders. The movement tightened her breasts, as if she was offering them to him.
His fingers stilled, slipped out of her, and Kate almost protested.
He sat back, eyes all over her. ‘You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,’ he said hoarsely, and with a determination that was almost intimidating bent to remove his sneakers.
He got to his feet, reached into his back pocket for a condom, held it out to her.
She took it and instantly started ripping the packet. Scott—with sharp, efficient movements—took off his T-shirt, unzipped his jeans, pushed them and his underwear down and off.
And, God, he was gorgeous. Hard. Huge. Perfect.
He reached for her, pulled her in, groaned long and low as their naked bodies connected, slid together.
‘I’m sorry, but this won’t take long,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to make it to the bedroom. Not this first time.’
He pulled back, jaw clenched tight. Nodded at the condom in her hand. ‘Put that on me and I’ll try not to come while you do it.’
Trembling, eager, Kate complied, while Scott uttered a string of low-voiced curses. And then he basically stumbled back, pulling Kate with him, until he was sitting on the chair again.
‘Straddle me,’ he said. ‘I can get more deeply into you from this position. And I want to go deep. Deep and hard. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Kate said, in a breathy voice she hardly recognised as her own.
She slid onto his lap, wrapped her legs around him, around the chair. He held her hips, settling her, then shifted so her bottom was in his hands, manipulating her so she was more perfectly positioned for his entry. Another groan, this time against her neck, followed by a sucking kiss there. Then, with one almost vicious thrust, Scott was inside her, pulling her closer, closer. Another sucking kiss on her neck and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her deeply, tongue plunging within, licking her top lip, back inside her mouth.
‘Best—the best ever—to be inside you,’ he said against her lips.
And somehow those not very romantic words pushed Kate over the edge and into orgasm. She grabbed his face. Pulled his mouth closer, too close for words, and fed him gasping kisses until he followed her, with one long, last, deep thrust, into an explosive orgasm.
Best. Ever.
Those two small words were all Scott could think of as he came back to earth after the most mind-blowing release of his life.
Kate. So jaw-droppingly sexy. Looks that were almost taunting, they were so hot. She’d met him thrust for thrust, taken him as deep and as hard as he wanted to go, kissed the wits right out of his head.
He snuggled her close for a long, quiet moment, stroking her hair gently now that the first rampage of lust had passed. He felt her heartbeats and his, in unison, starting to slow. But he figured he’d never have a normal heartbeat around Kate. She fired his blood like nothing he’d ever experienced. Everyone else he’d ever been with paled in comparison. Every other one was a girl. But Kate was a woman.
And, for now at least, his woman.
At the thought, he felt himself start to harden again, still inside her.
She laughed, low and deep. She’d felt that, then.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. Kissed him again, lush and soft, and he got harder still.
He stood, bringing Kate with him. Her legs wrapped automatically around him.
‘Bedroom’s back there,’ she said with a head movement.
‘I hope it’s a single,’ he said with a laugh as she squirmed against him. ‘Because anything wider than that is going to be a waste of space.’
Three hours later Scott got quietly out of Kate’s bed, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and looked down at her.
She was deeply asleep, no doubt exhausted after what he’d put her through. Even when he hadn’t been able to get it up after that third time he hadn’t stopped touching her. Mouth, hands…all over her.
Best. Sex. Ever.
He thought about leaving and going home—but that felt…wrong. Sneaking away as though he’d got what he came for and didn’t have to linger. Not that Kate would mind, given the contract. Sex—just sex. The end-game. He could sneak away and it wouldn’t be regarded as sneaking by either of them.
But they hadn’t had dinner and he was too hungry to leave. She would be too if she woke before morning. He padded into the kitchen, checking the contents of the cupboards and fridge. Not overly stocked, but he could fix omelettes.
Making himself at home—as he always seemed to do in kitchens—Scott got busy with eggs and whisk and was soon sliding his perfectly cooked omelette onto a plate. He grabbed a glass of wine—making a mental note to bring some beer to leave in Kate’s fridge—and pondered where he should sit to eat.
But it was no contest—and he knew it in his heart.
He’d said earlier that he wasn’t interested in the view from Kate’s apartment. And in that first hot burst of screaming desire it had been true—she was the only thing of interest to him.
But he knew what the view was, and now that the edge had been taken off his caveman libido he wanted to see it.
Rushcutters Marina, where he’d boarded his first yacht as a child and learned to sail. Sailing had become a passion. His one and only rebellion had been taking that year to sail in the Whitsundays rather than go straight to university the way his parents wanted, the way his perfect, by-the-book brother had. For Scott, sailing had been…freedom. And even though he’d given up sailing, there was something about boats that just kept pulling at him.
So he settled himself at Kate’s girl-sized outdoor table and looked out at the water as he ate. It should have been peaceful but, as ever, he found peace elusive.
He finished his omelette and walked over to the edge of the terrace, looking out at the water, listening to the gentle lap of it against the boats.
It was so different from the Whitsundays, and yet it made him remember that time eight years ago at Weeping Reef. The six of them—Willa, Luke, Amy, Chantal, Brodie and him—had formed what they’d imagined would be a lifelong bond, when their lives had been just beginning, only to see that bond disintegrate before that one summer was over.
All because of a love triangle.
One moment Chantal was Scott’s girl; the next she was Brodie’s. No words needed. Because everyone had been able to see it, just from the way they’d looked at each other.
Brodie was the only person Scott had ever confided in about all his childhood crap—and it had been hard to deal with his best friend slipping straight into the place his brother usually occupied in his tortured mind: the best, number one. As the white-hot knowledge had hit, Scott had lashed out, and everything had crashed and burned.
Scott and Chantal, both stuck working at Weeping Reef for the summer, had never recovered the friendship that had been between them before they’d become lovers.
Brodie had simply disappeared.
And Scott
had missed him every single day. He still missed him.
The fight seemed so stupid, looking back. But that was what happened when you combined too many beers and too much unseasoned testosterone.
Chantal was just a girl—albeit it a smart, beautiful, wonderful girl—and what they’d had was a romance of proximity. They’d arrived at the resort before the others, and everyone had automatically assumed they were an item because they looked perfect together. A default relationship. With occasional sex that had been fun but hardly earth-shattering.
The fight hadn’t been about Chantal. Scott knew that with hindsight. That fight had been all about him. About never being quite good enough to win the prize. Never being quite good enough to be the prize.
At least he’d learned from the experience. Learned not to trust. Learned to take control of his emotions and hang on to that control at all costs. Learned to keep his pride intact. Learned not to care too deeply. About friends…or lovers.
Now, if only he could work out how to deal with the restlessness that had followed him ever since, he’d be happy. But it was as if he was in a constant battle with himself: let go and just be; don’t ever let go; let go; don’t let go; just be…
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
The soft question from behind him startled him out of his heavy thoughts. Scott took a moment to school his features. And then he turned, dialled up a smile—one that was a little bit naughty, a little bit sex me up—which he routinely used on women he’d just laid.
Kate was wearing a loose, light dressing gown, and looked tousled and natural and lovely.
‘You wore me out, Katie,’ he said. ‘I needed fuel, so I made myself an omelette. I’ll make one for you too—because if you tell me I didn’t wear you out in return, I’ll die of shame.’
She chuckled. ‘Oh, I’m worn out, I promise. We’re equal.’
She came over to stand beside him and he found himself drawing her close, tucking her against his side, under his arm.
‘I think that qualifies as a PDA,’ Kate said.
‘We’re not in public, so how can it?’
He felt her sigh at his dodge-master answer but she didn’t say anything, so he kept her there, under his arm. It was…restful, somehow.
The Millionaire's Proposition Page 4
