The End of Faking It

by Natalie Anderson

  ‘How come it’s you helping Mason? Not one of your employees?’ From all the conference calls and faxes he’d been getting she knew he didn’t usually spend his days on a detailed case analysis like this. He was the boss of more than one entity.

  ‘He trusts me.’ Carter lifted his shoulders. ‘And he’s an old friend. And I wanted a break anyway.’

  ‘So this is a holiday for you?’

  ‘It’s a nice little change.’

  ‘But you’re still in contact with the Melbourne office all the time.’

  He shrugged again. ‘I’m responsible for a lot.’

  ‘And you love it.’

  ‘Sure. I like my career. I work hard to succeed.’

  Yeah, she’d noticed that about him.

  The cool wine refreshed and soothed and now she’d begun to eat she realised just how hungry she was. It was only another five minutes and she’d finished.

  He looked at her plate and looked pleased. ‘Better?’

  ‘Much.’

  He went inside and pushed buttons on the iPod dock in the lounge and then came back to the doorway, offering his hand to her. ‘Come on, don’t you like dancing?’

  ‘To a much faster beat than this.’ But she stood anyway.

  He smiled as he drew her closer. ‘You’ve got to learn to relax, Penny.’

  The slow jazzy music made the mood sultry and they were barely swaying. His shirt was unbuttoned, so was part of hers, so skin touched. This kind of dancing wasn’t freeing, it was torture. She was uncomfortably hot again, her breathing jagged. A half-glass of wine couldn’t be blamed for her light-headedness, and she’d just eaten so it wasn’t low blood-sugar levels either.

  It was him. All him.

  And she wanted to feel him wild inside her.

  She reached up on tiptoe, deliberately brushing her breasts against his chest. His hand moved instantly to hold her hips tight against his.

  She sighed deeply. ‘Can we just get on with it?’

  ‘So impatient, Penny.’ Laughter warmed his voice. ‘Come on.’

  He danced her down the little hall to the master bedroom. She liked the anonymity of the room—only one step away from a hotel suite. There was nothing personal of him around to make her wonder beyond what she knew already. Burning out the chemistry was all this was. One week and he’d be gone. Another month and she would too.

  He pressed a button and thick, heavy curtains closed, giving the room an even more intimate mood. ‘You want the lights out?’

  ‘No.’ She smiled. ‘I like them on.’

  He kicked off his shoes and trousers, shrugging off his shirt. She was spellbound by his body. He caught her looking, sent her an equally hot look back. ‘You like to be on top, Penny? You’d like to take the lead?’

  She did but she hadn’t expected him to let her so easily.

  He smiled and kissed her, but then moved onto the bed. He lay, his shoulders propped up against the bed head, his legs long in front of him, and looked back at her in challenge. ‘Come and get me, then.’

  Oh, she would.

  She stripped, her eyes not leaving his as she deliberately, slowly shimmied her way out of every single piece of fabric. His expression was unashamedly hot and he openly hungered as she revealed her breasts.

  ‘You on top works for me,’ he muttered hoarsely.

  She’d been worried he’d get all serious—forgo his pleasure in the pursuit of hers and then they’d both end up unsatisfied. But it seemed he was happy to stretch back and enjoy everything easily. Thank goodness.

  As she walked to the bed he reached out to the bedside table and swiped up a condom, quickly rolling it on. So he was ready. Well, so was she.

  She knelt onto the bed, meeting his unwavering gaze, and began to crawl up his body. His smile was so naughty, so challenging, so satisfied.

  But she’d see him really satisfied. She trailed light fingers up his legs as she moved, bent forward and pressed little kisses, little licks. Nothing but tiny touches designed to torment—his thighs, his hips, his abs, his nipples. She’d get to his erection soon—when he begged.

  His breath hissed. ‘Are you afraid to kiss me?’

  She knelt up and smiled. No. She wasn’t afraid of that. She moved up the last few inches and pressed her mouth to his—and felt him smile.

  His hands settled on her hips, pulling her to sit on him, his erection only inches from her wet heat. How the man could kiss. Slow and then firm, his lips nipping and then his tongue sliding. He turned it into an art form. He turned it intense.

  She shifted, wanting to move right onto him, wanting to tease him some more. But he took her hands in his and imprisoned them beside her hips—so she couldn’t touch or move. Then he went right back to kissing her. Just kissing. As if they were young teens on a marathon make-out session.

  She was getting desperate now—to touch more, feel more—because his kisses were driving her crazy, building the need inside her. Every one seemed to go deeper. Every one increased her temperature another notch. Every one made her kiss back with the same increasing passion—until it was at an all-new level. She closed her eyes, breathless, yearning for the finish.

  Finally he kissed down the side of her neck—just a little. She shivered at the first development of touch.

  ‘Cold?’ he murmured against her.

  She shook her head a fraction. She was anything but cold.

  She was completely naked, so was he, but he didn’t move to take her or let her slide down on him. His erection rubbed against the front of her mound, teasing exquisitely.

  She wanted to diffuse his power and have him in thrall to her—just for the moments that they’d cling together. That was how she always liked it—to be close, to be held. Intimacy beyond that was too much for her to bear. But Carter didn’t seem inclined to settle for anything less than absolute intimacy. Her eyes smarted; she shouldn’t have admitted anything to him. She shifted again, eager to move things on more.

  ‘We’ve got all night, honey,’ he muttered between more searing kisses. ‘I’m not going to explode if I don’t come in the next ten seconds.’

  Yeah, but she was afraid she was going to go insane—this was too intense.

  She rose above him, escaping his grip, demanding they move forward. She glanced down at the broad, flat expanse of his chest and the ridges of his washboard stomach. He was remarkably fit. And before he could stop her she gripped the base of his erection and slid down on him hard and fast.

  His abs went even tighter and she felt his quick-drawn breath, but his expression remained calm.

  She smiled because he felt so good. So damn good. And she could make him feel even better. She circled, clenching her muscles at the same time, and watched his reaction—the glistening sheen of sweat, the dilation of his eyes. Yes, now she was back in control.

  Sort of.

  She moved, increasingly faster, increasingly desperate. She searched for that look—the harsh mask of rigid control that tightened a man’s expression just before he lost it completely. But Carter stayed relaxed, gazing up at her, his hands trailing up and down the sides of her body, letting her set the pace while still teasing her so lightly.

  But the thing was, she was tiring, every time she slid up and down his shaft she felt more sensitised—every stroke hammered at her control. Just looking at him made her senses swim, so feeling him like this had her dizzy. Her breathing fractured. She was unable to keep the swamping sensations at bay, and her head tipped back, her eyes closing. Every inch of her skin felt raw, and at that vulnerable moment Carter slid his hand to her breast.

  She gasped, bending forward in an involuntary movement. He caught the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her further forward to meet him. He kissed her again, deep and erotic, while with his other hand his fingers and thumb still circled her screamingly sensitive nipple.

  She groaned into his mouth, mostly wanting him to stop—and yet not. And he didn’t. Instead he lifted up closer so
his body was in a crunch position, his abs pure steel. He wouldn’t free her from his kiss, from his caresses, from the powerful thrusts up into her. Slow, regular, his fingers mirrored the rhythm as they moved to scrape right across the tip of her breast. And she wanted to run, she wanted a break—to slow for a second so she could recover some sense.

  But the relentless friction of him against her, inside her and the kisses all combined to bring her to a level of sensation she couldn’t escape. Devastating. She groaned again, desperate—alarms were ringing but nerves were singing at the same time.

  He nibbled on her lips, upping the pressure from every angle, the hand at her breast sliding down hard against her belly to below—to that point just above where their bodies were joined.

  She couldn’t think any more now. She couldn’t move. Too overwhelmed to be able to do anything but be guided by him and that was too much, too scary. But his hands clutched and controlled. He filled her body and all of her senses—all around her, inside her—holding her more tightly than she’d ever been held. And suddenly she realised—she couldn’t fall because he’d caught her so close and sure. She was all safe—and free. In the prison of his embrace, she could be free.

  And now the heat was delicious. Delirious with it, she danced in the flames—and had no desire to escape any more. For the escape was right here in this moment as she moved with him. Groaning, she sank deeper into the kiss, her body yielding, letting him in that last bit more—she could do nothing except absorb all of him as he relentlessly drove into her.

  She was so hot, so incredibly hot and wild and free. It was as if a river had burst inside—a lava flow of sensation and heated bliss. On and on he pushed her along it—intensifying the heat and ride to a point where the waves of fire rushed upon her. Her eyes opened for a second and she broke the seal of the kiss as her breath, heart and mind stopped. There was no scream, no cry, just a catch of breath as her muscles clamped and then violently convulsed.

  She shuddered, releasing hard on him with an incoherent moan, her hands clawing, so out of control. She was intensely vulnerable and yet utterly safe in the cocoon he made for her.

  She went lax, totally his to mould. And he did, hauling her closer still, his grip even firmer, both hands across her back, pulling her so from top to toe she was flush against his hot damp skin. He frantically ground up for a few more beats and in her mouth their moans sounded like magic.

  Reality was on some other planet and she was protected from the harshness of it because she was floating in a pool of paradise set at the perfect temperature.

  She’d never been out of her mind before but all her reason had been totally submerged. Now she kept her eyes closed as she glided on that warm tide of completion. Every muscle in her body had gone on strike anyway. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t open her eyes, would never move again.

  He lay a few inches away alongside her, having eased her onto the sheets a while ago. She didn’t know how long—time was something she couldn’t hope to figure out.

  His fingers loosely clasped her wrist and that small connection was just enough. Anything more would be too much, but it seemed he understood that. It seemed he understood a lot.

  But he wasn’t gloating, wasn’t lying on his back and beating his chest like a victorious he-man. And he had every right to do that if he wanted. She wouldn’t even mind if he did, she couldn’t, because she was so completely relaxed. Actually, she was absolutely exhausted.

  But that was okay, because she didn’t want to think, to talk, to see. In this moment, she just wanted to be.

  Carter really wanted to pull her close, but he suspected she might be feeling super-sensitive right now and he didn’t want to overload her system—or freak her out emotionally. Taking it easy was the only way to go. So he fought the instinct to cradle; instead he watched her quietly, waiting for some sign of life. For her conscious reaction.

  He already knew her unconscious one. He had his fingers loose on her wrist. He could feel her pulse tripping every bit as fast as his own.

  She couldn’t fake that.

  Sparks of satisfaction fired in his chest and her sudden smile blew them to full-on flames. Because that smile was full of warmth.

  ‘Wow.’ Her voice hardly sounded, but he read her lips.

  ‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t resist—reached out with his spare hand to stroke her hair.

  His arms ached even more to hold her. Usually he hated post-coital cuddles—because usually he was too hot and sweaty. And he was damn hot and sweaty now. But he wanted to hold her, to keep the connection open between them. Having her collapse in his arms like that had filled him with the most pure pleasure of his life. He didn’t care about his own orgasm after that—only in that instant it had hit and wiped him out.

  But now he watched her eyes as the thoughts trickled back into her brain and she was too tired to hide the vulnerability as they darkened.

  ‘I should go.’

  He rolled onto his side, towards her, his muscles complaining at the movement. ‘I’m only in town for another week. Don’t think you’re spending a minute of it alone.’

  ‘You didn’t say that earlier.’ Her dark eyes darkened even more. ‘I don’t sleep well in a strange bed.’

  ‘You slept okay with me by the pool last night.’

  She had nothing to say to that. So he pressed home a point designed to lighten the scene.

  ‘It’ll make it easier to be near you at work knowing I’ll have you with me all night.’

  ‘Oh, you’re back to that argument, are you?’ She gave him the smile he’d been seeking.

  ‘Yeah.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ll just have to lie back and think of the company.’

  ‘But I really should—’

  ‘Have you honestly got the energy to get up, get dressed and get out of here right now?’ he asked.

  Silence for a second, then a very soft answer. ‘No.’

  ‘Then shut up and go to sleep.’

  Her smile was drowsy and compliant and he switched off the light while he had the advantage. In the darkness he listened as her breathing regulated. He was shattered himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the experience he’d just barely survived. Yeah, the most challenging moment of his life. He’d been holding back from firing from the moment he’d seen her naked, let alone finally been buried inside her.

  She’d been out to claim him—she’d been all tease, all sensual siren, twisting him hard to force his release, not hers. Now he knew why she liked the light on. She watched him as they moved—noting his reactions and adjusting her movements accordingly. Thinking too much—and all about him. On the one hand she was working out what he liked, and that was great. But not to the extent that she wasn’t getting lost in the moment. She was too focused to be feeling it. Like her work, she was determined to be perfect at it. The best. Most guys would lie back and let her, loving it.

  And, oh, he had loved it. She’d driven him insane with want for her. But he’d wanted more than that. He’d wanted her to surrender to the exceptional. He’d wanted her to realise and accept this was exceptional. And holding back long enough for her to become overwhelmed by their magic had almost broken him. Now he wanted an hour or so to pass quickly so he could recover even a bit of his energy. Because, although he was utterly drained, he couldn’t wait to do it all again.

  Asleep by the pool last night, she’d curled into his embrace so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it were home. And honestly, he’d enjoyed it. He’d thought that was because they’d both been cold. But he wasn’t cold now and he wanted to sleep like that with her in this big, comfortable bed. So he flicked another switch—the air conditioner—cooling the room enough for them to need a light sheet for cover. And for her to want a warm body to curve into.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  YAWNING, Penny opened the fridge, her eyes widening when she clocked the contents. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you to be so into yoghurt.’

  ‘I’m no
t.’ He reached past her for the milk. ‘But you said you like it, only I didn’t know which sort so I got one of everything.’

  He wasn’t kidding. There was an entire shelf crammed full of yoghurt cartons.

  ‘I’ve got cinnamon and there’s a ton of fruit in the bowl,’ he added. ‘Although I got tinned as well, just in case.’

  When had he gotten all that exactly? She’d only told him her breakfast choices yesterday by the pool—he must have gotten them in before getting back to work after they’d finally escaped the place. That was efficient. And it deserved a reward.

  She leaned closer to where he stood at the bench. ‘What do you like for breakfast?’

  He swept his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her smiling mouth. ‘You, sunny side up.’

  Yeah, she liked that too. She’d woken swaddled in his arms again and the runny honey, so-relaxed-she-could-hardly-stand feeling was still with her. ‘You need something more to sustain you.’

  ‘Toast. Eggs. Fruit. Cereal. Breakfast’s a big deal for me, especially on the weekend.’ His brows pulled together. ‘You know I have to work through.’

  ‘I’d figured that already.’ She smiled.

  ‘But I have to have your assistance.’ Both hands on her waist now, he hoisted her up to sit on the bench.

  ‘Well, Mason did instruct me to do whatever you needed me to do,’ she said, giving him a less than demure look from under her lashes.

  ‘Excellent.’ His hands wandered more freely. ‘Then you’re staying right here.’

  It was two hours later that Carter sighed and slid out of the bed they’d tumbled back into. ‘Come on, we have to go to the office for a few hours.’

  Her cherry lips pouted irresistibly.

  ‘I’ll get you a coffee from the café on the way,’ he said to sweeten the deal.

  But it felt like hours later and Carter was sprawled back on the bed still waiting—fully dressed and ready to go. Penny could shower for all eternity, testing his patience even more than when he had sex with her. But then she made up for it by dressing in front of him. She was super quick then and he wouldn’t have minded if she’d taken longer…so he avidly watched her every movement. He’d never have guessed that her perfect appearance would take only minutes to achieve. Her well-practised fingers twisted her hair into a plait. He reached across and undid it—earning a filthy look—but it was worth it to watch her weave it again. She had the most beautiful long neck and shoulders.