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Angry fingers suddenly gripped her upper arms. ‘Why are you chasing this?’
She flinched. Chasing? Like some infatuated teen stalking her first prey? Shocked, she blurted the truth. ‘I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a fling. Never had a one night stand. I’ve always been “good”, always watched out for my reputation, always gone out with “safe” guys.’ She’d had a couple of steady boyfriends, then that engagement. She shut her mind to the memory, turned back to the heat of the moment. ‘Just for once I want the freedom to do what I want to do, take what I want, have what I want.’
‘And I’m what you want?’ His jaw was rigid, the strength in his fingers not easing an iota.
She glanced down his body. ‘You’re very fit.’
‘What is it that’s really turning you on? Going with someone outside your select social circle? Someone from the wrong side of the tracks, someone rougher? Is that what I am to you?’
Her senses flared at the word rougher. She could do with some rough right now. ‘I don’t care about your background.’ She didn’t actually care about him—did she? ‘Like I said, you’re just very fit.’ She sighed, frustrated. ‘And every time I see you, you’re half naked. What do you expect? I’m only human.’
A short laugh was shaken from him. ‘So you just want physical, Sophy?’
‘Really physical.’
The breath whistled out between his teeth. She held her breath, frozen as she watched him decide.
‘I don’t do relationships, Sophy.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’
His fingers relaxed but didn’t let her go and his smile returned. ‘This is not going to get out of hand.’
She stepped closer, anticipation twisting with satisfaction and spiralling higher. She’d won. For once she’d been bold and it had worked. ‘Of course not. You’re going to be very much in hand.’ She smiled. Really, dirty flirty talk was easy. She could so be the queen of it here.
‘I think you’re confused about who’s going to be dominant.’ His hands tightened again, drawing her closer still. ‘I’ll be in control, Sophy—you don’t want to be.’
That was exactly it. She didn’t want to be in control any more. She just wanted to feel. Not think. Just experience it, release the tension from her system. ‘Okay.’
His expression flared. His hands moved, looping round her back, imprisoning her. ‘So what did you have in mind?’
‘What about my office?’
‘Now?’ He laughed freely. ‘A late afternoon lay? Just before you leave?’
‘It has a certain appeal.’ Her eyelids were heavy, her cheeks flushed. She’d wanted him for days, of course she wanted him now.
‘Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?’ His voice dropped to a carnal whisper, but his eyes were like polished stones. ‘We’ve barely kissed. We might not be that good.’
Barely kissed? Oh, he was full of it. Her lips curved into a lush, lazy smile. ‘You don’t believe that. Besides…’ she skated the tips of her fingers over his jaw, shivering with the pleasure of being able to touch ‘…you do everything to a brilliant standard.’
‘So do you.’
Not quite true, but she was happy to skip it. ‘Then we’ll be brilliant together, won’t we?’ She was wholly leaning against him now, feeling the heat of him through her linen shirt. ‘Let’s try it out.’
‘Oh, Sophy,’ he muttered, his face even more angular. ‘You’d better know what you’re doing.’
In answer she lifted her face, inviting it all.
In a fast movement he caught her mouth with his. It wasn’t anything like the gentle kiss of the day before. This was brazenly sexual—branding her with its heat. She gasped, held back for a scrap of a second beneath the bruising, blazing invasion. Then threw herself headlong into the eye of the storm, locking her hands behind his neck, letting her breasts press against him. His hands pushed her tighter against his hardness. And he was hard all over.
His heated skin melted her. His tongue swept between her lips, she parted to let him in as deep as he wanted. Twirled her tongue around his and felt his grip tighten even harder on her.
Yes.
Her neck muscles strained as she pushed up into his kiss, not wanting the searing assault to ease even a smidge. She rocked her hips. Rising onto tiptoe to feel that bulging ridge nearer to where she really wanted it, rubbed closer again, desperate to relieve the agony that now flared deep within. She felt rather than heard his grunt. His hand cupped her butt, fingers firm on her flesh, holding her as he rocked back against her—his thrusting slow, devastating, while his mouth was still sealed to hers. His tongue teased into her the way she really wanted that other part of him to. Her moan reverberated between them then. Oh, yes. That was what she wanted. All the strength of him ripping into her.
His kiss altered, breaking but quickly returning. Nipping at her mouth he pushed her harder against his straining erection. She shifted her feet to part her legs that fraction more, rotating the half centimetre she could against him, torturing them both. She cursed the clothes that were scrunching between them. He bent her back to force her body closer still, until all she could do was cling to his shoulders and accept his demands. She didn’t want to stand any more anyway. She wanted to lie down. She wanted him to pin her with his weight and pound into her. Fast, hard, now.
All her desire unleashed with just the one kiss.
He took the weight of one breast in his hand and her body buckled with the sensation. ‘Yes.’ Her high cry, half whispered.
So there was such a thing as pure, carnal lust. An attraction to a body, where nothing else mattered but touching it, feeling it and making its beauty come alive. There could be a free, physical joy. She’d been missing out for years—had always taken everything too seriously, been too cautious. She swept her hand hard across his shoulder, up his neck and into his hair, clutching to his deliciously dangerous heat. It was time to play catch-up.
Lorenzo fought hard with his raging lust, and hers, easing them out of the kiss, forcing his hands to slow and then to stop their exploration of her skin. It hurt.
He lifted his mouth a millimetre away from hers. Saw that passion had made her blue eyes glow more vividly than ever before. He couldn’t resist another brushing kiss, nor could he resist the way her nipple was pressing into his palm. His fingers mirrored the action of his mouth—brushing the sensitive nub just as his lips did hers.
Very, very lightly.
Her shudder nearly had him on his knees. He’d wanted to test her—to see if she really meant it. So he’d kissed her hard. No gentle beginning, no tenderness, just the brunt of his raw, blistering passion.
And she’d met him, matched him. Almost beaten him.
Now he wanted to strip her, to kiss her, to make the whole of her wet with want. He wanted her drenched with desire—and him too—for their bodies to slide together, fighting for that furious, physical release. He hadn’t wanted sex so badly in ages.
Instead he pushed away, made himself take a whole step. Forced his feet to move another. ‘I’m not going to take you now,’ he said breathlessly. Telling himself as much as her. ‘Not like this.’
‘Why not?’ She didn’t seem to realise the extent to which she was giving herself away.
His body tightened, the animal part of him so keen to take up her unguarded offer. To topple her here and now and be done with it. But he couldn’t. She needed some breathing space to be sure. He needed her to be sure. The lust was hot enough to make them both brainless. Do something she yet might regret. Lorenzo couldn’t bear those regrets—not his, not hers either.
Stupid. Since when did he care? Since when did he let any kind of second thoughts stop him from having a good time?
Because she’d told him—she didn’t usually do this. He’d known that already but having her actually say it made it worse. She needed to be certain. He didn’t want any uncomfortable ramifications. ‘Are you sure you can handle it?’
She turned away. He saw the chill descend, the stiffening in her shoulders. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. Of course I can. We’re only talking one night, Lorenzo.’
He ruffled his hair, needing to get his conflicting emotions under control. Hell, it was one p.m. and he was this close to having her in a quickie session at the back of the warehouse. He wanted more than a quickie. He wanted a bed. He wanted the whole night.
One night—her suggestion.
His body chafed—eager to take the offer up now. But no way was he taking her upstairs to his apartment. Inviting her in there might lead to mixed messages. He’d have to take her out. Damn, a date meant more too—or might to her. He shook his head, could she really keep it uncomplicated? But he wanted it too much to say no. The burning need forced him to take the risk. ‘I’ll take you out tonight.’
‘That’s not necessary.’
Oh, she was cool, wasn’t she? His edgy feeling sharpened. Had he underestimated her entirely? ‘You don’t want to go out?’
She looked evasive. ‘You could come over to my place.’
It was probably a good idea. He didn’t like that it had come from her, but she was right. Better not for them to go out together—looking like lovers, feeling like lovers. But ironically nor did he want some sordid assignation. Just for him to knock on the door and her let him in—literally. The warring feelings frustrated him. ‘For dinner?’
‘If you like,’ she answered carelessly, giving him an address, a time.
He stared at her as she spoke, tried to figure out what the hell she was thinking. Failed. But she’d come to him. She was asking him. If she wanted to go through with it, who was he to say no? He’d never been one to turn down an opportunity. ‘Okay.’
She smiled, and walked back inside.
He glanced up to the window and waited. Soon saw her swinging into her role as the perfect administrator again. It should please him, not annoy him—given she was on the payroll and all. But for some reason he found it incredibly irritating. She could go back and concentrate on boring work just like that?
Man, he wanted to see her out of control. He wanted the perfect clothes crushed and the never-out-of-place hair messy. He wanted her eyes wide and wild and her mouth parted as she panted. He wanted her both laughing and crying with pleasure so intense that she was no longer in charge of anything. He wanted her to writhe for him.
And he wanted it now.
Chapter Five (#u93bc5a2c-1219-52f8-9ffc-86403a564ce3)
LORENZO had been fantasising about this for too long. That was why he was so edgy. Had Sophy known the XXX rating of his dreams, she’d never have offered him this kind of access. The things he wanted to do…
He took a deep breath. Her home was as he’d expected. A cute little villa in the heart of poshville. Just the place for a young Auckland socialite. He walked up the path with the fatalistic feeling growing inside him. He hadn’t brought flowers, not even a bottle of wine. Just himself. His body was what she wanted—and it was all she was getting. He shook off the clanging bell of doom—stupid. This was just going to be some hot sex—nothing more.
She answered the door swiftly. Delicate colour sat high in her cheeks. She’d changed her clothes. Wearing a different blouse, a casual skirt that flared out, emphasising her little waist. Sandals on her feet. Pink polish gleaming on her toenails. Her hair was styled in that nineteen-fifties Hollywood-starlet style.
‘I didn’t cook. Sorry. Been busy.’
Getting ready for him? He liked that idea a little too much.
She turned and led him down the polished wooden hallway.
‘It’s okay.’ He wasn’t that hungry anyway. Not for food.
‘I cheated and picked up some stuff from the deli.’ She led him to the dining area. ‘Thought we could snack.’
‘Sure.’ He looked at the table. She’d unloaded the deli pots into pretty little dishes. Floral. Heaven help him. Fragile fine bone china. That was her all over.
She was watching him, a knowing look in her eyes that unsettled him more. ‘You’re not having regrets already?’
‘I don’t do regrets. Why, do you?’
She shook her head. ‘New Year’s resolution not to.’
Yeah, right. ‘You’ve never done anything to regret, have you?’ He couldn’t hold back the bitter note of accusation.
‘You think?’ She stepped up to him. ‘I’m no angel, Lorenzo.’ She leaned forward and whispered, ‘And I’m no virgin. You’re not going to hurt me.’
He swallowed. For someone who’d said she’d never done this before, she was holding her own. So the snacking could wait a while. There was something far more pressing to be done. He lifted a hand and stroked her hair, gathered a lock and ran his finger and thumb along the length of it. He tugged gently, straightening the curl at the bottom. When he let it go it bounced right back. ‘So you’re sure.’
A look of irritation crossed her face. ‘You know I am. You’re here, I’m here. End of conversation.’
He laughed inwardly. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to have been dreaming of this for too long. He watched her, waited and soon saw the slight nervousness steal into her eyes, despite her words. She’d taken a smidge of her lower lip between her teeth, he could see her biting hard on it. And she was staying very, very still—waiting.
He leaned forward and so slowly, so gently caught that lower lip between his own teeth. She gasped, freeing it so it was his. He sucked on it, let his tongue run over the swell of soft flesh. She opened for him completely—and they hurtled straight back into the red-hot kiss of earlier. Her hands lifted to his shoulders; he liked the feel of them, he liked the feel of her hips digging into him too. It was as if everywhere they touched the power surged, pulsing between them.
He broke free, determined to slow it down. ‘You don’t want to eat first?’
‘Can’t you just shut up and get on with it?’ She thrust against him again. ‘Anyone would think you’re stalling.’
He looked at the gleam in her eyes. The nerves had gone. She was enjoying being provocative now. And she wanted it fast. Too bad. She’d told him the truth earlier. She wasn’t a one-night-only girl. Not before now.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked bluntly. ‘Why do you want it to be over so quick?’ Did she want it done and then him leave inside the hour? Like some naughty fantasy that she could tell herself wasn’t really real?
Not happening. If she wanted it, then she was getting it—one whole night. And one night didn’t mean once only. And it certainly didn’t mean quick.
She didn’t answer, had fallen silent, breathless as she leaned her lower belly against him. He understood—even just that simple closeness turned him on too. He traced her collarbones with the tips of his fingers. Watched for the reaction. Yeah, there it was. The widening of her pupils and the increase in her breathing. Her response so quick, so gorgeous. Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
She turned her head but he didn’t take the mouth she offered. Instead he kissed her ear, let his tongue lightly trace the whorls, let his teeth gently bite on the soft lobe.
Then he kissed the skin just below—she shivered. Yes, she was sensitive there, vulnerable.
He liked to touch her where she was vulnerable.
The constraint fell from him. Too late to pull back now. Inside he knew it had always been too late—from the moment he’d seen her looking so crossly at him at the back of the warehouse he’d wanted her. And he was going to get what he wanted—now.
She moved restlessly. He saw the flicker in her eyes but he refused to kiss her again. Not yet—he needed to regain his control so he could play with her the way he wanted. He undid each button on her blouse, so slowly, until it fell open. He pushed it back on her shoulders, took in the pretty bra. White, floral lace. Very pretty—but the soft globes it encased were even prettier. He could see her lush nipples pressing against the lace and nearly groaned aloud.
He had to kiss her again, not her mouth—not yet—but the soft creamy column of her throat. He brushed his lips against it, felt her pulse beating beneath him, breathed in the subtle scent that he found so sexy. Her head fell back, giving him greater access to that sensitive area. He traversed down, seeking to anoint more of the sweet skin with his tongue, his lips, eventually crossing over her collarbones and to the rising slope of her breasts.
Her hands lifted to his waist, pulling on the belt loops of his jeans, trying to draw him closer. He refused to move. So she did. Rising to tiptoe, bumping against him. He smiled as he hit the lace edging of her bra.
‘Lorenzo.’ The need made her voice sound raw.
He slid his hands up her thighs, soothing the ache he knew she was feeling with the promise of that intimate caress. Soon. Very soon. He was so glad she was wearing a skirt.
‘Lorenzo, please.’ She swirled harder against him.
He felt her hands on his back, on his skin as she went beneath his tee shirt. He tensed. He couldn’t handle her touch just yet. He lifted his fingers higher against her, swept them across the front of her panties.
She jumped. Stepped back from him.
He froze.
She wasn’t looking at him. ‘Like the good little girl scout I am, I’m prepared,’ she gabbled, fumbling with her skirt. He watched narrow-eyed. Finally she pulled a condom out of her pocket with shaking fingers. But she dropped it as soon as she had it. She groaned with frustration.
He spared a quick glance down to where it had fallen and then stepped forward and slid his hand round the back of her neck, pulling her to him. ‘We don’t need it.’ He bent and resumed his savouring of her skin.
‘We don’t?’ She sounded startled.
He bit back the laugh—barely succeeded. ‘Not yet.’
