Unmasked

by Stefanie London

  His nostrils flared. “You should know by now that I can hold my own in that area.”

  “One night isn’t really enough to say for sure.” She sucked on her lower lip. “It could have been a fluke.”

  He leaned closer, dragging in the scent of perfume on her skin mixed with the alcohol on her breath. Her cheeks flushed pink, and her breasts strained against the neckline of her dress as she breathed a little heavier. A little faster.

  “It wasn’t a fluke, Lainey, and you know it.” Against his better judgement, he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. God, she felt good—so warm and soft and smooth. “I certainly know it.”

  “That we’re good together?” Her lips parted.

  “In bed,” he clarified.

  “Then why won’t you let this happen?” She raised a palm to his chest, her fingertips brushing the buttons on his shirt. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?”

  “About what?”

  “How you feel about me.” Her eyes were wide, luminous. How on earth had he not recognised them at the ball? Her hunger radiated like a cloud around his head, messing up all the things he should be saying and tying his words into a knot.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Her lips lifted. “Have you fantasised about being with me?”

  Her face was streaked with curiosity. He gripped her hip tightly, fighting back the urge to wedge her against the bar and take her right there on the spot. That mouth was asking to be plundered.

  “Yes.”

  Her hand toyed with the zipper on her dress. “Tell me.”

  “Why do you want to hear this?”

  “Because I’ve spent a good deal of my life thinking what I felt was one-sided.”

  She’d never hidden her feelings. Well, not effectively, anyway. When she was young, she’d looked up at him with adoring eyes—the big brother she never had. But as she got older, that adoration turned into something else, something decidedly more adult.

  “It’s not one-sided, but I knew it couldn’t go anywhere, so I never acted on it.” He brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder, grazing his knuckles along her exposed skin.

  “But you’re attracted to me.”

  He lowered his gaze, taking in her long, lean silhouette, the gentle curves at her waist and the swell of her breasts. “How could I not be? I doubt any straight man could resist you.”

  “So it’s just biological?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean I think we’re compatible, either. And regardless, I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  She stretched up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his ear. “Neither am I.”

  Aided by her stilettos, she lined her hips up with his. Snaking one arm around his side, she hooked her thumb into the belt loop at his lower back. Claiming him. Being so close to Lainey had made his heart rate skyrocket and his skin hot enough to sear a steak.

  “You should go home,” he said in a last-ditch effort to maintain his rules. “Come on. We’ll get a taxi.”

  “No.” She snuggled closer to him, pressing her face into the base of his neck.

  Her perfume wafted up and made it hard to breathe. She smelled like a summer garden, ripe and tempting. Her hair tickled the skin exposed at the collar of his shirt, and he brushed it from her face without thinking.

  “Take me back to your place,” she said.

  It was a bad idea for so many reasons. Lainey was far too important to him for anything to get screwed up. Sure, she was crazy and pushy and reckless, but she’d been part of his life for years. His sister loved her, his parents loved her. As for him... He didn’t know how to label it. He felt too old for her, too jaded. But he cared about her, that much was true.

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said.

  “What’s the big deal? It’s just sex. You want it, I want it. Why not have a good time?”

  His restraint was like a rubber band pulled too tight—holding on, but threatening to snap at any moment. Excuses swirled in his head, words that encouraged him to have his way with her because it would be temporary, consequence-free. They could hide it until she left—and then they’d be on opposite sides of the world. No chance of awkward run-ins or a slip of the tongue after too many drinks.

  “Tell me what you fantasised about,” she urged. Her body pressed against his, the gentle back and forth sway of her hips making his cock ache.

  Damian gritted his teeth. “Lainey,” he warned.

  “Do you think I can’t handle it?” She narrowed her eyes. “Pretty sure I’ve proven I can. Or is it that you’re afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  “That we might be amazing together...that we’re already amazing together? Why does that scare you?”

  She was baiting him and doing a damn good job of it. But he couldn’t let her know that he was scared—of ruining things with her, with his sister. Vulnerability, however, wasn’t something Damian did. Not anymore.

  “You really want to know?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I’ve thought about bringing you to the brink over and over. Holding you back until you beg me to let you come.” Images danced in front of his eyes, all the fantasies of her he’d stroked himself to merging together. His control was slipping, dissolving. Turning to dust. “I’ve thought about fucking you so hard that you forget how to speak. So hard that you can’t take a step the next day without remembering how good my cock felt inside you.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I’ve thought about that night,” he said. “Over and over and over.”

  “And what do you do while you remember?”

  “I think you know,” he growled.

  A tiny noise escaped her mouth, and already her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen, her movements becoming stiff and jerky. “Take me home,” she whispered.

  Their conversation was interrupted as the bartender arrived to check in with them. “Can I get you anything else?” The man looked at him expectantly.

  Damian downed the rest of his scotch, though the expensive top-shelf liquor tasted like sawdust. “No. I think we’re done.”

  None of his senses would be satiated until he got Lainey to his bedroom. Anticipation bubbled like boiling water, threatening to spill over and burn if left unattended for too long. But waiting was the best part, dragging out the exact moment that he would allow himself—and her—to go someplace new. Someplace terrifying.

  The point of no return.

  “Have you touched yourself while thinking about me?” She swallowed the remainder of her drink demurely as she waited for him to respond. There was no teasing in her tone now.

  “Yes.” He swallowed. “Have you?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I have.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “Last night.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Thinking about seeing you again... I was so wound up. I couldn’t sleep.” Her lashes touched as she closed her eyes for a moment. “But it wasn’t the same. I didn’t want to come unless you were there with me. I want all those things you said.” She spoke slowly, controlling the words.

  If he didn’t have at least a taste, he was going to burst. Or he’d come quicker than an inexperienced teenager during his first fuck.

  “Tell me what you thought about when you were touching yourself,” he commanded softly.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “I imagined you taking me to bed, ordering me down to my knees so that I could take you between my lips. I wanted you to tell me what to do, to tell me to suck you until you came in my mouth.”

  Fuck. Was someone up there trying to test him?

  She tilted her face up to his. “I want to try everything with you.”

  “Fine.” The word popped out before he could
stop it, warning bells sounding in his head like a cacophony of sirens. “But it’s just sex.”

  “Just sex.” She nodded. “Nothing more.”

  This was a very bad idea.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAINEY’S HEART THUNDERED like fists beating against drums as Damian led her from the restaurant. This was the moment she’d never dared to hope for—having him, without disguises or trickery. She might have said it was just sex, but her heart knew differently. With him it would always be more, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud.

  At least she knew Damian would look after her. He was exactly the kind of guy she’d always wanted but never chased. The kind who had his head screwed on properly, who made her feel boneless and tingly. He was the complete package, perfection in man form...well, except for his inability to loosen up. But she was going to help him with that.

  His clear eyes searched her face, trying to figure her out as they walked along the boulevard. The night air was balmy against her bare arms and legs, doing little to cool the inferno inside. Focusing on the strength of his arm around her, Lainey put one foot in front of the other and concentrated on keeping her balance in her stilettos.

  The world felt like it was spinning around her, due as much to the way reality had rushed back as to the drinks. They rounded the corner and walked through the doors of a fancy hotel. Damian’s face was hard, his mouth a slash across his movie star–handsome features. The hotel lobby gleamed, every surface polished and trimmed in gold. A heavy chandelier hung in the centre of the room, sending fractured light in all directions. Her eyes couldn’t focus for all the blinding, dazzling finery.

  “Why are we here?” she asked.

  “You said you wanted to stay the night.”

  Her stomach dropped. “You’re outsourcing me to a hotel?”

  Heat crawled up her neck, blooming in her cheeks. So he was happy to fuck her but he wouldn’t take her back to his place? Had she really read him that poorly?

  He raked a hand through his short, black-brown hair. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here.” He steered her away from the reception desk and toward a set of gleaming elevators.

  “I don’t understand.”

  It didn’t make sense. Damian McKnight didn’t live in a hotel. She and Corinna had crashed at his apartment plenty of times. He had a glorious view of Southbank and the river, a coffee machine that made the perfect cappuccino, and a couch that was softer than the clouds in heaven. He had a home. A real one.

  “I live here.” He sighed and jabbed the up button with his forefinger. “For the moment.”

  “And you’ve been keeping it secret?”

  “Not specifically.” His voice sounded brittle. “But Corinna knows I’m a private guy, in case you’re wondering why she didn’t tell you.”

  Strange. It definitely sounded like there was a story there.

  An elevator chimed and the doors slid open, beckoning them inside. Mirrored walls reflected her confusion as she searched Damian’s face. But he avoided her gaze, pressing the button for the top floor. Her ears popped as they rose higher and higher, the silence only broken by the chime that let them know they’d arrived.

  The hallway of the hotel was quiet, and only a few doors dotted the walls. They stopped at the first one and Damian let them in, holding it open for her like he always did. The perfect gentleman.

  “Whoa.”

  Melbourne’s skyline painted the windows that ran the length of the room. Lights in every colour blinked and bathed everything in a twinkling glow. Damian deposited his key card into a slot by the door and the lights came on.

  The suite was larger than most city apartments. It even had a dining table and a study area. Lainey rushed forward and stood at the window, her palms pressed against the glass. The view at his old place had been good, but not as good as this. It felt as though she were suspended in midair, flying above the city and away from her doubts.

  “This is amazing.” Her breath fogged the glass and she turned to find Damian watching her intently.

  “It’s temporary,” he corrected, and held out a hand to her. “Come on, it’s bedtime for you, princess...before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  He looked as though he belonged in this room, his crisp shirt and inky suit every bit as luxurious as the gold trimmings and soft lighting. She, by comparison, felt awkward in her too-tall heels and too-expensive dress. What was she doing here?

  He led her to the bedroom, and her breath caught in her throat. Damian loosened the collar of his shirt, revealing a smattering of dark hair. She knew for a fact that it sprinkled the rest of him, too—decorating him in all the right places.

  She wondered how it might feel to have the weight of him pressing her into the bed. To straddle him and watch his face contort with pleasure in the moonlight. She reached for him. Her movements were clumsy, nerves stripping away her motor skills.

  He watched her, eyes wide and pupils blacker than night, while he drew a long breath and squared his shoulders. Lainey knew the signs well; she’d seen them that first time she’d tried to kiss him, three years ago. His first instinct had been to respond, but as quick as it had started, he’d pulled back. Now he looked the same, with tension bunching his muscles. She would not let Damian run, not when she’d finally found a way to make the sadness in her heart seem conquerable. Under his gentle exploration she felt renewed, alive. Safe.

  “I promised myself I’d never go here,” he said.

  The conflict in his voice called to her, and she wanted to kiss him until he forgot how to speak. “Too late.”

  “It’s not too late for me to do the right thing.” He pulled back, breaking free of her greedy hands. “I can go back outside and we can wake up tomorrow morning and act like this never happened.”

  “As if you’d be able to forget me,” she teased.

  “I said act like it never happened...not forget.” He shook his head, dark hair gleaming in the moonlight. “Unfortunately, I’ll never forget.”

  She drew her zip down slowly, the sound cutting through the quiet room. His eyes tracked the movement, swallowing up every inch of bare skin as it was revealed. And she was bare all the way down.

  “Christ.” His muttered curse sent anticipation zinging through her as she dropped the dress to the floor and stepped out of her heels. “You were sitting there naked under that dress the whole evening?”

  “Uh-huh.” She stepped forward and reached for him, brazenly drawing her fingers along his fly. “Now strip.”

  This time there was no argument. He disposed of his suit jacket and popped the buttons on his shirt one by one. His bare torso looked paler in the glow of the city lights, but each muscle was defined to perfection. He was a powerful, virile, intoxicating man.

  She slid her hand over his thigh and felt the muscle twitch in response. Emboldened, she ventured farther by brushing her fingertips over his straining erection, eliciting a gasp from him. His hand shot down, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he yanked her hand away.

  “Lainey,” he growled. “Wait—”

  She cut off his words by pulling his face down and kissing him. Hot, hard, wet. She explored him ruthlessly, revelling in the taste of him. A guttural moan reverberated in his throat, and he ground against her.

  Balancing on her tiptoes, she fused their bodies together. Sighing into him, she thrust her hands into his hair and tugged. Hard. The buckle of his belt dug into her belly, and his mouth seared a trail from her lips to her collarbone, each kiss hungrier than the last. She had to have him, had to have every glorious inch of him.

  The moment when the fight left his body filled her with a roar of power so loud and forceful it shook her to the bone. She had him exactly how she wanted him—without disguises. Without pretence. His shoulders dropped and his kiss intensified. It was as if the t
emperature in the room shot up a hundred degrees, and the air around them sizzled and popped. His fingers bit into her hips, teeth nipping at her skin. He was marking her, claiming her with his touch.

  Then she was being lifted, wrapping her legs around him while he spun her. Two steps and her back met with the glass of the hotel window. It was cold on her bare skin while the front of her burned brightly, flames licking and growing with each stroke of his tongue. She traced the corded muscles in his neck, her fingertips smoothing over his Adam’s apple.

  Stubble scratched at her skin as he devoured her with gentle nips of his teeth. She wanted to see the marks, to see the evidence of his desire. A shiver shot down her spine, deepening the ache between her legs.

  “Put me down,” she whispered. “I want to touch you.”

  “Not yet.”

  He carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress, settling on his knees and pressing his face between her legs. He kissed her there, swirling his tongue over her clit and wrenching a cry from her.

  “You’re so fucking perfect.” He trailed kisses along the length of her heated sex, each one sending shock waves through her.

  * * *

  What had he done to deserve this incredible woman in his bed? He traced the sensitive curve of her inner thigh, chuckling as she bucked against him. He was going to draw it out, make her beg. He’d been hungry for so long, and she was a hot meal, a cold beverage, the light at the end of the tunnel. Every fucking cliché in the book...but it felt real. Special.

  She writhed on the bed as he took his time getting to every line of her body. He drew his tongue up to flick over the sensitive bud of her clit.

  Nails bit into his skin, delicious pain slicing through the fog in his head. He grabbed her hands and brought them together, easily encircling both wrists in one strong grip. He held her steady, making sure she couldn’t move to touch him while he pleasured her. Her hips lifted from the bed, pressing shamelessly against his face.

  “Patience,” he said, swirling his tongue against her mercilessly. Each stroke was gentle, designed to wind her up but hold orgasm out of reach.