‘I’d noticed, and you’re –’
‘I am not getting ready to be a papá.’
‘Oh.’ She pushed the last piece of pizza around on the plate. Spit it out, Ellie, just tell him. ‘It isn’t that easy though. My ex, the one I mentioned, he –’
Even if she’d being expecting it there wasn’t a lot she could have done. It just happened. Instantly. A splosh of cold water that hit her scalp with a blast, followed by a trickle of water and ice down her neck, finding its way with unerring precision straight between her boobs.
‘What the fuck?’
‘Lucas, you should be ashamed.’ The female voice, with a heavy Spanish accent went straight over her head, literally. And she was half glad she was only in the firing line as far as the water went, and not verbally. ‘What is it with you men; don’t you understand the meaning of discretion? Keeping your trousers on might be totally impossible, but you don’t come parading your hussies in here. People will see, people will talk, and then what will she think? It is her reputation, Lucas. Yours, pah, you men think your reputation is better if you share out your favours, but you are wrong. And what will your poor mamá think? Orlando comes here and waves it about and now you are doing it. Here, here of all places.’ She’d gone up a good octave and seemed to have reached the top of her range because there was suddenly silence. A big, empty, embarrassing silence.
Ellie didn’t know whether to laugh at the image of the bad boy Orlando waving it about, or retaliate at the hussy label that had just been hung round her neck. Or carry on opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish, which was about right considering the amount of water on her head. A lone ice cube plopped onto the plate in front of her.
Chapter Four
Crying was always an option. Or screaming. The woman stomped off across the room, leaving a draught of cold air. A droplet of water was just about to drip from the end of her nose and she caught it with her tongue, then glanced up through her sodden fringe at Lucas. The corners of his mouth were twitching.
‘Don’t you dare!’
His eyes were laughing even if he’d got his mouth under control. But suddenly she couldn’t help it. She started to laugh, and he joined in.
‘Orlando?’
‘My brother.’
‘And he was waving about …?’
‘His dick.’ His mouth was curved in a smile, but his face was serious as his gaze wandered over her.
‘Ah. Perfect end to the day, I’d say.’ She flicked the wet hair up over the top of her head. ‘Your ex-sister-in-law tried to run me off the road, you try and choke me with your tapas, and now the señorita from hell half drowns me.’
‘You have such a way with words.’ He leant across and wiped her face gently with his napkin. ‘But I can think of a much more perfect end to the day.’ His voice had somehow dropped to a level that reverberated straight through her, and the look on his face was pure hunger as his gaze drifted down to her cashmere jumper, which was now hugging her breasts and nipples as though it was a second skin. Her stomach felt empty. She shivered; that water had been fucking cold. Iced to perfection. It was the water, not the look, that was making her feel on edge.
‘Come on.’ He was on his feet, holding his hand out. ‘My place is round the corner, let’s get you dry.’
‘Who was that?’
‘Spanish mamás are always matchmaking. Forget it.’
‘Forget it, really?’ Easy for him to say. Forget, while ice-cold water is trickling down your neck and you could be up for a wet T-shirt contest.
‘Let’s get you dry, then I’ll give you her life history.’
‘Lucas?’
He wrapped his fingers round hers. ‘You’ll get cold, come on.’
Everything was round the corner for him, it seemed; work, rest, and play.
Play. ‘Maybe I should go home.’ To my own boring, safe little life.
‘Come and get warm first.’ He threw some money on the table, put an arm round her shoulders, and practically dragged her out of the place.
The shower was nice, the warm, fluffy towel even nicer. The walking into the lounge part a bit embarrassing. He was on his feet before she’d got into the room properly, and she really wished he’d stayed sat down. He was just too sexy, and she didn’t want sexy to be the reason for being here, for making any kind of decision to help. She would have still agreed to think about his offer if he’d had two heads, or been some pimply youth with bad breath. No, she wouldn’t.
The jeans suited him – well, they were actually quite a bit better than the trousers because although they were tight enough, and low enough for her to practically see his hip bones they didn’t seem to show quite as much of the crotch that her gaze kept homing in on. Which was good. Staring at a man’s crotch was bad news. And the white T-shirt was practically indecent; well, her body’s reaction to it was. It hugged his torso and kind of yelled out “look at me, touch me, rip me off”. She swallowed, trying to get her dry throat back to normal. Maybe she’d just got some kind of hormone overload, too much looking and not enough touching since Mark had gone.
‘Coffee?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘That towel suits you.’ He grinned.
‘The in thing this year, you know.’ She did a twirl, then instantly regretted it when she saw the look on his face. She could just be heading straight into making a big mistake if she wasn’t careful.
He took a step closer. ‘Your stuff is in the dryer, won’t be long.’ Ran a finger down the side of her face, then reached back and unpinned her hair.
‘Don’t –’ Too late. Her hair tumbled down and her whole body swayed towards him of its own accord. He slowly twirled a ringlet of her hair round his finger and she didn’t feel like she dare move; a tug, a gentle pull that sent a tingle through her scalp, all the way down between her thighs. She swallowed. ‘Maybe I …’ Should go, but she didn’t want to. His thumb brushed over her lips and they parted automatically so that she could taste his skin, run the tip of her tongue over the salty flesh. ‘I can’t, I shouldn’t, you’re bad news for me, you know.’
He ran the thumb up over her cheekbone. ‘Really?’
‘You’ve just given me a day to remember for all the wrong reasons.’
‘I could make it a day to remember for all the right reasons.’ His breath was warm against her neck. His fingers played in her hair, sending bad thoughts through her body.
‘No.’ It didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. ‘Who was that woman?’
‘Later.’
His finger moved slowly across her lips and she caught the tip instinctively between her teeth, circled it with her tongue, her gaze locked with his.
‘Can I kiss you?’ There was something about the catch in his voice that seemed to tug her closer to him.
She might have nodded, or she might not, but he knew. The warmth of his palm was against her neck, his fingers at the nape and then threading through her hair, massaging gently until she couldn’t help but close the gap between them. She wanted him, needed him. His mouth was above hers; the tip of his tongue ran over her lips as his hand reached out for her waist and he eased her gently back until the cold of the wall hit her shoulders.
A man touching her waist turned her on, and she was already turned on something rotten, but when the heat of his hand hit her skin under the towel something deep inside her slowly unfurled. And so did the towel, dropping to the floor between them.
He nibbled along her lower lip, pulling and tugging as she threaded her fingers through his hair and tried to pull him closer. A kiss had never been quite this tempting or teasing. The gentle chuckle reverberated through her body and then he had her wrists in his hand and had pulled them above her head.
‘Slowly, querida, we don’t rush the good bits.’ His thumb circled lightly over the skin at her waist and she groaned. ‘You like that?’ He bent down briefly and sucked on the soft flesh, which was worse. Tons worse. Oh yes, she liked that; she liked it so much that her nipples w
ere tight buds and her pussy was doing a dance all of its own.
She shut her eyes.
‘Open your eyes and look at me.’ He was staring straight at her, inside her, and the tiny twist of anticipation in her stomach started to swirl. He ran his tongue over her lips again, then pressed his mouth to hers, gently teasing her mouth open until he could run his tongue over the tips of her teeth, which was ecstasy and agony wrapped up in pleasure. She whimpered, pressed her thighs together as the moisture built between her legs.
Her tongue met his and his grip tightened slightly on her wrists, but he didn’t press against her, he kept the agonising distance between them, holding her waist firm as she tried to push her hips forward. A grip that tightened as he sucked her tongue into his mouth, as he played his teeth along the edge of it until her whole body seemed to be throbbing. She could taste his lust, the sharp tang of need mingled with the mellow fruit of the wine, and more than anything she wanted to pull him closer, demand more, but he just ignored it as she pulled against his hold of her wrists. He was strong, far stronger than she was; he held her effortlessly, and just knowing made the anticipation build more.
Her eyes closed as his mouth explored hers. She sucked gently on his tongue, stopping its search, and he groaned, a low rumble that seemed to travel through both of them. She traced the tip of her own tongue along the inside of his teeth, over the tips. If this was all he’d let her have, then she wanted every single bit, wanted to turn him on as he was turning her on, wanted to taste him, know him.
‘Touch me.’
He ran one finger between her breasts, down across her trembling stomach, between her burning thighs until it rested on her throbbing clit, lightly rested while he looked straight into her eyes. One last chance to run away.
She could stop him – no, the word was “should” because no way could she actually say stop now. ‘We hardly know each other.’ She ran her tongue over dry lips.
‘No.’ His forehead rested against hers and he waited, and she wasn’t sure if it was his heart hammering fit to burst or her own.
‘Please.’ His grip tightened slightly around her wrists as she rocked her hips, desperate for him to go further, to slip inside her. His face tightened as his finger found her juices, slipped between her swollen lips. The moan made his Adam’s apple jump in his throat, and as his thumb pressed harder against her swollen clit and his finger sank deeper inside her his mouth came down on hers again. Gentle but searching, he sucked on her tongue, and dragged a response from deep inside her as the shudders started deep inside and she came.
He pulled away and she swayed, even though he was still holding her wrists in one hand and his other had moved back to her waist. She was dazed, and hungry. Definitely hungry. And confused. He was making weird noises. ‘You’re buzzing.’ She was buzzing inside, every inch of her, but he was doing something stranger. With noises.
‘Next time I’m going to make you beg.’ Humour fanned out from his eyes. ‘But it’s not me who’s doing the buzzing. Do you need to get that?’
She cleared her throat. Try to sound normal. ‘Who says there’ll be a next time?’ She hadn’t got over this time yet: she was practically panting, trying to stop her pulse racing like she’d done a marathon. And all he’d done was bloody kiss her, well, kiss her and give her the orgasm she’d been desperate for since she’d set eyes on him. ‘And what do you mean, it’s me?’
He laughed and his gaze ran over her body, her shameless body, which she was pretty sure was sending signals out like some crazed distress beacon. ‘ You say there’ll be a next time.’ He kissed her gently on the nose. ‘And it’s your phone that’s doing the buzzing.’ He nodded over towards the table, where her mobile seemed to be doing a crazy vibrating dance across the glass surface. It stopped.
‘I can leave it.’ Then started again. What if it was important? Her boss? Shit, her work. She either needed to get this review written or explain why it wasn’t.
‘Maybe I should get your clothes out of the drier?’
Or maybe you should throw me across the table and make my heart race even faster? ‘Sure, thanks. I probably should see who it is.’
Lucas poured a glass of wine and sank down onto the couch, kicked off his boots and put his feet on the coffee table, thighs wide enough so that he could rest his hand over his throbbing cock. He must be mad. He’d felt horny enough to jump her in the bar, but seeing her fresh from the shower had just about shattered every resolve to keep control. But waiting was good; waiting would be good for both of them. In the past he’d slept with women on the first date, lots of women who were willing and able. And he knew Ellie wouldn’t have pushed him away, but something had nagged at him to stop, even before her buddy started calling, setting her phone off like an annoyed hornet.
He didn’t want a quick shag. He wanted her to need him, wanted her to beg him to take her, wanted more than he ever had. Which was crazy. He was here to sort out the bar, and then he was heading back to Spain. So why was he waiting? Why was he teasing and tormenting the pair of them?
He emptied the glass of wine and slowly rubbed a hand over his bulging crotch. He could wait because something inside him was saying he had to. The same thing that had told him it was a waste of time even trying to explain that he wouldn’t be round for long and was it still OK, because if he’d put his hands on her like he’d wanted to neither of them would have used common sense and said no, it wasn’t OK.
Shit. He closed his eyes and the image of her standing there filled his head, her hair damp, falling loose as he pulled the clips out. The towel dropping, drifting down her body until it pooled at his feet.
Work, then pleasure. Get the bar refurb under way, get the business on the right track, and try not to molest her every time you see her. Simple. Torture, more like.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, which at least distracted him from his aching balls. He pulled it out. His mother, which meant that his pizza with Ellie had already been reported back to Spain with lightning speed.
‘You found a new girl then, Lucas?’
‘What happened to hello, mamá? Holá, how are you, Lucas?’
‘Lucas, stop trying to avoid the question.’
He sighed. ‘Mamá, I have a glass of wine with a girl and the gossiping starts?’
‘You have only been there a few hours, and normally you keep away from the girls like that. I gossip because I care.’
‘She’s not a girl like that. She’s helping me with the bar, mamá, Danielle found her.’
‘Ah, if Danielle found her, that’s different. Why didn’t you say that?’
Why didn’t you give me a chance? he wanted to ask.
‘And the bar is good, eh?’
“The bar is mierda” would have been the accurate response. ‘Soon it will be good, mamá, I’ll sort it.’ Although I would rather be hunting my brother down and giving him the hiding he should have had a long time ago. What kind of a man fucks up his business then dumps his pregnant wife? The type who lets his dick rule his mashed-up brain was probably the answer to that one.
The answers seemed to have appeased his mother, and he let the updates on family life in Spain drift over him, and went back to thinking about Ellie. And the tapas bar. And how his aching balls were taking him in a direction he shouldn’t be going unless he wanted to be as much of a bastard as his sibling.
Having her help out would play havoc with his mind as well as his body, but he had to admit Dani was right. Having Ellie on board would be a good idea. And it was giving him a headache, the type of headache that needed urgent stress relief. But he didn’t want to jerk off, he wanted her.
He shifted uneasily. Work, think work. She could help. He knew his business, and he’d thought he knew enough about the UK, but something had gone wrong. Most probably just his brother, but when he fixed it he wanted to do more than just get it right. He wanted it to be something to be proud of. Like he was of his bar in Barcelona. His only worry was that once he left, how wo
uld he keep it that way? And if he got involved with a girl who looked like she deserved far better treatment than a fling, was he being as much of a rat as his brother when he knew he’d only be here for a month at the most?
But was she going to agree to help him? Or was that strange look she’d given him as she’d bolted for the door a kind of goodbye? All of a sudden he needed to know, and if he called her and she didn’t pick up then he’d have all the answers he needed.
He looked through the papers on the table. Where the hell was that scrap of paper Danielle had given him, with her details? He’d been in a hurry when they’d got back, had to dump his stuff, get changed and get straight down to Pinchos. What the hell had he done with it?
It wasn’t in the kitchen, not amongst the pile of envelopes on the table by the door. Which, considering he was normally pretty organised, was strange. Right, they’d been in a hurry, what had he done? He retraced his steps from the front door, through the lounge to the kitchen where he’d dropped some papers and his jacket. Then the bedroom. He stood at the door, looked at the neatly made bed which, if he’d done what every impulse in his body had demanded, would have been crumpled and mussed-up with a naked Eloisa in the centre.
He shook his head to get rid of the image, which was already making him feel horny again. He’d dumped his case, got changed … It was there. A tatty strip of torn-off paper on his bedside cabinet which he must have tossed to one side before he’d dropped his cases and headed out. He stared at the string of numbers, the name written in Danielle’s firm handwriting. So what did he say if he texted her? He walked back into the lounge and sat down, poured another glass of wine, and knew she had to say yes, because if she didn’t he wouldn’t see her again. Leant forward and picked up his mobile, and just as his hand closed around it, it buzzed with an incoming text. Ellie.
Chapter Five
Spice It Up - an erotic novella Page 4
