The Party Starts at Midnight

by Lucy King

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I never mix business with pleasure,’ she said, focusing on one of the founding principles of her company, albeit a bit belatedly.

  ‘Neither do I. But the party’s over and we no longer have business together.’

  ‘We might. Hopefully.’

  ‘If you were hired again you wouldn’t be liaising directly with me. Or Jake. Tonight was a one-off.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Well, then, what’s the problem?’

  ‘I have to work this afternoon.’

  ‘What does that have to do with now?’ he asked, his gaze roaming slowly, sensuously, over her features. ‘All I’m suggesting is a kiss.’

  Yeah, right. As if they’d stop at a kiss. As if she’d be able to. A kiss would be the beginning.

  ‘You have a reputation,’ she said, now beginning to sound as if she were clutching at straws, which she was because the longer she looked up into those mesmerising eyes, the more she was starting to forget her own name. He was overwhelming and she was floundering, drowning, way out of her league, her depth, her mind. And for someone who liked to be in control the knowledge that she wasn’t was deeply unsettling.

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

  ‘Yours is for being cold, ruthless and emotionally devoid.’ The opposite of everything she believed in, in fact, and somehow, somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, that seemed important.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

  ‘No. Does it bother you?’

  ‘It doesn’t do anything to me,’ she said breathily. ‘You don’t do anything to me.’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  She shook her head and swallowed and wondered dizzily why she was still here when it would be so easy to leave. ‘Not a thing.’

  ‘See, now you’ve bruised my ego.’

  ‘I dare say it’ll bounce back.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt it will. But in the meantime you make me want to prove you wrong.’

  ‘What are you?’ she said, her mouth bone dry and her heart pounding. ‘Twelve?’

  ‘Thirty-two.’

  ‘Old enough not to have to prove anything to anyone, I’d have thought.’

  He inched closer, so close she could feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his skin, and her breath caught. ‘True,’ he murmured, and ran a finger down her cheek, making her shiver and burn at the same time. ‘Nevertheless, before, when we were looking at each other and couldn’t stop, I saw the desire in your eyes. I heard the subtle change in your breathing and I saw the blush in your cheeks. I want you and you want me and I don’t see any point in denying it. Do you?’

  Abby couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake her head because, oh, what the hell, he was right, there wasn’t any point at all. Not any more. Because he didn’t do anything to her? Who was she kidding? She was a wreck, practically quivering with need, and it was blindingly obvious why she wasn’t going anywhere.

  ‘Therefore the only question that remains,’ he continued in the same soft, seductive voice, ‘is, what do you want to do about it?’

  Even though her head was spinning with great big warning signs Abby knew exactly what she wanted to do about it. She wanted to tackle him to the floor, tear his clothes off, and hers, and then spend what was left of the night getting hot and sweaty with him.

  And honestly, it was way too late to pull back now because she wasn’t going anywhere and they both knew it. The time for fleeing had long gone. Kissing was inevitable. It had been since the moment they’d laid eyes on each other.

  And as her resistance began to crumble beneath the force of the thrills that were racing through her Abby gave in. After all, it was only a kiss. What harm could come of a kiss? It wasn’t as if she’d never kissed anyone before, was it? She had, loads of times, and the world hadn’t stopped, so, honestly, what was she so worried about now? And what had she been doing thinking that one kiss would necessarily lead to something more? Of course it wouldn’t. She was made of strong stuff. She could easily walk away afterwards if she wanted to. Easily.

  ‘Oh, go on, then,’ she said huskily with a mock dramatic sigh as desire began to thunder through her. ‘If it really matters that much to you. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your dented ego.’

  ‘Such enthusiasm,’ he murmured with a smile.

  ‘It’s sufferance.’

  He tutted and slowly shook his head. ‘There you go again, Abby, making me want to prove you wrong.’

  ‘So what are you waiting for?’

  She lifted her chin and parted her lips and braced herself for the full force of him and the likely insides-melting impact it would have on her. But instead of going for her mouth, Leo put his hand on her jaw on one side of her face, and set his lips to the tiny spot beneath her ear on the other. It was the barest contact, a brush of air, a whisper, yet Abby gasped and trembled and, oh, dear, had that whimper been hers?

  Apparently it had because she could feel his smile against her skin as he brushed his mouth against her jaw again, and she would have been prepared for the effect of it, only this time he didn’t stop. Instead he trailed his mouth along her jaw while she just stood there, very probably swaying, her eyes fluttering closed as she gave in to the glorious sensations sweeping through her.

  He slid his hand round to the back of her head, pulling her closer, and when his mouth did eventually find hers Abby moaned, wound her arms around his neck and gave up any hope of trying to rationalise this because all she could do was feel. Feel the heat of his mouth, the skilful strokes of his tongue, the hard muscles of his neck beneath her hands and the softness of his hair between her fingers.

  As their kiss deepened, heated, she couldn’t help arching her back to press herself closer, writhing against him a little and wishing she hadn’t been so fastidious about doing up the buttons of her coat.

  A sentiment that he seemed to share, because a second later he was easing away from her a fraction and with the hand that wasn’t holding her head to his he deftly undid her buttons, parted her coat and then slid his arm round her back to pull her tight against him. And without the barrier of chunky wool she could feel the hard, thick length of his erection and nearly passed out with desire.

  Leo moved his hand to her side, the edge of her breast, sending a shower of sparks cascading through her as he stroked her and suddenly kissing wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste him all over. Get him naked. Push him down and feast. And touch. God, she wanted to touch.

  Unwinding her hands from around his neck, she slipped them down his chest to the waistband of his trousers. She tugged his shirt up and out, slid her hands beneath, running her fingers over the hard muscles of his abdomen and then round, planting them on his lower back and exploring. His skin was smooth and hot and she couldn’t get enough of it.

  Until he wrenched his mouth from hers, breathing hard as he stared at her. ‘Do you want to come upstairs with me?’ he said hoarsely, his eyes blazing into hers with more heat and desire than she’d ever encountered.

  Abby felt the room tilt as desire surged through her. ‘To take a look at your etchings?’

  ‘You’ve already seen my etchings.’

  ‘You’re right. I have.’

  ‘So?’

  Absolutely not, said her head. You don’t do this sort of thing.

  Definitely yes, said her body. You need to do this sort of thing.

  And really there wasn’t even that much of a battle because she was way beyond thinking straight. All she could think was that, unlike her crappy ex, here was a man who wasn’t intimidated by her, here was a man who’d never accuse her of being too capable, and here was a man who could easily give her rock-bottom self-esteem the boost it needed.

  The realisation blinded her, made her feel w
anted, desirable, powerful for the first time in months, and it was a heady, intoxicating mix. And utterly, utterly irresistible.

  ‘You know what?’ she said as logic, reason and sense threw up their hands in defeat and ran for cover. ‘I think I’d like to see some more.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HOWEVER DISORIENTATED AND dazed he’d been earlier, and however jet-lagged, Leo was clearly firing on all cylinders now because within a second of her agreement Abby found her bag being thrust at her, her hand being grabbed and herself being marched out of the room then led down a labyrinth of deserted corridors that took them to his private lift.

  He jabbed at the button, his jaw tight, not looking at her, as if not trusting himself not to take her then and there if he did. But once the doors had closed, cocooning them inside, totally cut off from the outside world, he pulled her to him, the look he gave her so full of heat and desire it nearly wiped out her knees, and kissed her. And by the time they were zooming up to his apartment she couldn’t have said whether her ears were popping with the ascension or the dizzying effect of his mouth on hers.

  Somewhere around perhaps the fourteenth floor he backed her up against the mirrored wall of the lift, pushed her dress up and then hitched her up. Supporting her weight with his upper body, he planted his hands at the backs of her thighs, lifted her legs and wrapped them round his waist.

  Holding on tightly—although definitely not clinging—Abby caught sight of them in the mirrored wall opposite. Her coat flared around them, his big body hiding hers apart from her limbs entwined round him, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything quite so erotic. Quite so wanton. And if the lift doors hadn’t opened when they did she might not have been able to stop herself from begging him to take her right then and there.

  As if she weighed nothing Leo carried her out and slammed her against the hall wall, making her drop her handbag and dislodging a picture, both of which landed with a soft thud on the floor.

  Abby tore her mouth away from his, breathing hard as she looked at him. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, glazed with desire, and her stomach all but dissolved.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘I think a Picasso just fell to the floor.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d understand,’ he said and resumed his assault on her jaw.

  ‘Leo,’ she said with a groan that was supposed to be of protest although it sounded more like one of desperation.

  ‘Bedroom?’

  ‘Yes. Quickly.’

  Leo didn’t waste a moment in complying and within seconds they were in his bedroom, tugging frantically at each other’s clothing before coming to the evidently mutual conclusion that they could get naked more quickly if they concentrated on their own.

  As Abby snapped off her belt and kicked off her shoes Leo’s jacket hit the floor, followed swiftly by his shirt and bow tie. She slid down the zip of her dress and pushed it down so that it fell in a heap at her feet while Leo unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and shoved them down and off, taking his socks and shoes with them.

  She was so gripped with desire she barely gave the heap of crumpling clothes a moment’s thought. The mess her hair must be in didn’t cross her mind. Nor did the contents of her bag that were scattered all over the floor of the hall. Nothing mattered other than feeling his body against hers, his hands on her skin and his muscles beneath her palms just as soon as was humanly possible.

  Once they’d stripped down to their underwear Leo reached for her and together they tumbled onto the bed, whereupon he rolled her beneath him and looked down at her, his eyes dark with molten heat and desire. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all night,’ he said roughly.

  Her heart lurched at the thought that he’d been having as much trouble with her as she had been with him. ‘So have I.’

  ‘Earlier, when I woke up and saw you kneeling just over there I couldn’t help imagining blindfolds—which aren’t really my thing—and you, right here. On your knees. And as naked and as aroused as I was.’

  Her breath caught and she swallowed. ‘You were right,’ she said softly. ‘Before you woke up I did want to kiss you. More than that, I found myself imagining climbing onto the bed and having my wicked way with you.’

  He frowned slightly. ‘I don’t understand it. We barely know each other.’

  ‘I’m not sure chemistry cares much about that.’

  ‘Perhaps not. This isn’t just chemistry, though, is it? This is insanity.’

  ‘I know. But right now, I have to confess I don’t particularly care what it is.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  Then his head came down and she wound her arms around his neck and there were no more words, only hands and mouths and the sound of harsh, ragged panting.

  She ran her hands all over his shoulders and down his back and felt him shudder beneath her touch. He reached round her back, deftly unclipped her strapless bra and then tugged it away from her and tossed it to the floor.

  Without taking his mouth from hers, Leo moved his hand to her breast and she let out a low moan at the contact. Her skin was on fire, sparks were shooting through her and when his thumb stroked her nipple, she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out.

  She arched against him to increase the pressure and then he was pushing her back, replacing his hand with his mouth, and Abby moaned. She writhed, squirmed, but nothing she did could calm the fever raging through her, a fever that hit boiling point when he lifted his head, took her hands, stretched her arms above her head and wrapped her fingers around the bars of the bed head.

  ‘Let go and I’ll stop,’ he said, giving her a look that just about melted her insides before sliding down her body, his mouth trailing hot, burning kisses as he went. Lower and lower, over her ribcage, her abdomen, until he reached the top of her knickers where he stopped and she could feel his breath on her skin, coming hot and hard.

  He put his hands on her hips then slid them round and slipped his fingers through the band of lace. He pushed her knickers down and she lifted her hips to help. Once they were off, he twisted away to toss them in the same direction as her bra, and then turned his attention to peeling off her hold-ups, slowly rolling down first one, then the other, his hands sliding down her legs with deliberately slow, deliberately lingering thoroughness, leaving her weak with want.

  And then he was back between her legs, his mouth hovering over the centre of her and she had to curl her fingers even more tightly around the bars because no way did she want him to stop, however tempting it was to let go, dig her hands into his hair and pull him tight against her.

  And it was very tempting indeed, because he was dropping hot, searing kisses on her inner thighs, her hip bones, everywhere but where she wanted him, teasing her, tormenting her, driving her nuts. She closed her eyes and bit her lip with frustration but she was damned if she was going to beg. She had self-control. Gallons of the stuff. It was in her bones, her very marrow. She could handle anything.

  But then, just when she felt like screaming with frustration, he touched his mouth to her and Abby wondered who she’d been kidding because her self-control unravelled and sensation, hot and sizzling and mind-blowing, rocked through her.

  With his lips, his tongue and his clever, clever fingers he licked and sucked and delved and she gave up trying to think. What was the point when she didn’t have to think about a thing? Leo seemed to know exactly what he was doing and that was too rare to not appreciate as fully as possible.

  So she was going to appreciate. And feel. Ooh, how she could feel...

  Every inch of her body was on fire. Alive and tingling and tightening. The heat of him, the touch of him and his skill at this sent arrows of heat and pleasure darting through her, sharper and harder and faster until she couldn’t hold back, couldn’t cling on any longer and, crying out
his name as she came, she broke apart, the pleasure rushing through her, swamping her, making her forget everything but him.

  It took minutes for her heart rate to subside. A few more before her breathing was back to normal. Yet the lovely feeling of satiation lingered right up until she felt Leo prop himself up on an elbow and began trailing a hand from her collarbone to her stomach and back again, over and over. And then desire was blooming again, heat was flooding her body and her heart rate was once more on the up.

  ‘Please tell me you have condoms,’ she murmured, not quite able to look him in the eye after what he’d just done to her.

  ‘I do.’ Abandoning her torso, he twisted around to open a drawer in the bedside table, grabbed a handful and dropped them beside the lamp. ‘Enough?’ he asked, his face dark and his jaw tight.

  ‘I should think so,’ she said, shivers running through her all over again at the intensity she could feel radiating off him. ‘Can I help myself?’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  Pushing him gently so he lay on his back, Abby reached across him to take one, and looked at it with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Strawberry?’ she murmured, a bit surprised because Leo didn’t seem like the flavoured condom kind of man. He seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t care about anything other than the fact the condom did the job it was designed to do.

  ‘Stag night.’

  ‘Sounds eventful.’

  ‘It wasn’t.’

  ‘Lucky me.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I love strawberries,’ she said, shooting him a wicked smile.

  His breath caught and then he let it out, long and slow. ‘That is lucky.’

  Straddling him, Abby leaned forwards, angled her head and kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue and shivering. He clamped a hand to the back of her neck and, with the other, pressed her hips down so that she fitted around the hot, hard length of him, still confined by his shorts. He tilted his pelvis, pressing against her, and she groaned. She gently circled her hips and then it was his turn to groan.