The Chatsfield Short Romances 1-5

Without even realising it, Nat was angling her body into Salim, pressing her buttocks against him, wriggling ever so slightly to assuage the burning ache between her legs, which got worse when she felt him so hard underneath her.

His hand moved around, under her thighs, gathering her into him and then suddenly he stopped and Nat stopped too. She pulled away, breathing harshly, dizzy. His hand was resting right over the puckered skin of her scar.

His eyes were burning. ‘Where you got shot?’

She nodded, mouth dry, because he looked so fierce all of a sudden.

‘Merde.’ The curse was harsh in the quiet room. In direct contrast to how gentle his fingers were, on her scar. Nat felt shaky. ‘It’s ok, I’m ok now. It was a long time ago.’

Salim shook his head and rested his forehead against hers for a moment. ‘That’s why I got out…too much pain and horror. It was eating away at my soul.’

A well of emotion made Nat bring her hand around to touch his jaw. She just said softly, ‘I know.’

And then because she couldn’t resist, she pressed her mouth to his again and let their desire burn everything away but here and now. When Nat realised that Salim had pushed aside her dress and pulled down the lace cup of her bra, he was already cupping the flesh of her breast, her nipple a sharp point against his dark skin.

She lay back, panting, her bottom moving restlessly on his lap, against his hard arousal. He looked at her and smiled wickedly before lowering his head to her breast, its plump flesh being offered to him like some sort of succulent invitation.

He flicked his tongue against her and she groaned, watching with greedy eyes as his teeth nipped gently at the turgid flesh, before soothing with his tongue. His dark hair and face against the paleness of her skin was erotic in the extreme.

When he finally closed his mouth around her nipple and drew it into his mouth, her head fell back against the couch, she arched against him in a silent plea and her hands wound into his hair, holding his head.

He stopped cupping her flesh to undo her dress, tugging it open completely, and Nat urged him on, rolling her hips now, hearing his low growl of approval against her breast.

When his hand moved down over her belly and cupped her burning mound, she went still. Her legs fell open and he smiled against her, lifting his head to watch the reaction on her face when he explored with long fingers, pushing aside the flimsy barrier of her pants to slide one finger along the wet seam of her body.

Nat felt so hot she was burning up. Sweat broke out all over her body and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Salim was a sorcerer, his finger lazily exploring but never quite—and then he thrust inside her, deep into the channel of her body, which was already clamping in anticipation of his body.

‘Salim,’ Nat shuddered, ‘I can’t…please…’

One finger became two, and her body arched at the exquisite intrusion.

‘Not enough?’ Salim’s voice was rough, the only giveaway that he wasn’t half as cool as he let on. That, and the flare of colour on his cheeks and his steel hard erection under her bottom.

Nat moved against him now, sinuously, feeling his penis slide against the cheeks of her bottom through their clothing.

‘Damn,’ he said hoarsely, his control finally fraying, just as Nat feared she might tumble over the edge completely with the movement of his hand and fingers between her legs. No man had made her feel this crazed, this wanton.

Salim took his hand away from Nat’s body and the momentary relief was short because he pulled her over him so that her knees were either side of his hips. Her eyes widened when she could feel his thick length right there.

Lust bloomed to think that he might just free himself and—

‘Much as I’d like to do what your eyes are suggesting I think we can make it to a bed, hm?’

Nat flushed scarlet and glared at him. Salim chuckled. ‘N’inquiete pas trésor, as much as I want you hard and fast right now, I want you on a soft surface and bared to me completely.’

Hard and fast sounded great. Nat trembled. She already felt bared completely and they’d been doing little more than heavy petting. What would it be like when their bodies joined? The thought made her brain fuse.

Displaying awesome strength, Salim stood up from the couch, taking her with him, wrapping her legs around his waist. As if he couldn’t help himself he kissed her and Nat’s slick body moved against him like a hungry little kitten.

He groaned and pulled away, his accent was thick. ‘Damn you, sorciére. I won’t take you here on the floor.’

And then he was walking, striding through the suite and into a darkened bedroom, where he lowered her to the bed. The sheets were cool against Nat’s feverish skin, and it only got more feverish when she watched Salim step back, kick off his shoes and start to undo his shirt, never taking his eyes off her.

Nat wasn’t even concerned that her dress was gaping open and that one breast was bared. She was too meserised by the stunning power and beauty of the body being revealed to her. Every muscle was clearly delineated, honed, but not pretty. It was as if he was carved out of rock.

The shirt dropped to the floor, his hands came to his trousers and Nat gulped. The belt slid free, and when she saw the slightest tremor in his hand as he lowered his zip, she looked up.

Salim’s hand stopped. ‘Viens ici.’

Nat understood French. She wondered if he even knew he was speaking it? She stood up, wobbly, and went towards him.

He said, ‘You do it.’

She looked down to see the zip half undone, and a large bulge. Mouth dry, she reached out and took it, her knuckles brushing against the hot thrust of his arousal. His breath hissed. As she pulled the zip down, over that bulge, Salim’s hand cupped her bare breast, a thumb rubbing back and forth over her sensitised nipple.

Nat’s legs amost gave way. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop calling out. The zip was down and Salim took his hand off her breast to push his trousers down, kicking them off impatiently. Now he wore only his underwear, which did little to hide how big or aroused he was.

‘Je veux—’ he stopped and cursed, ‘I want to see you.’

Nat looked up, and emboldened by the heat in his gaze, she let her dress fall down over her arms and to the floor. So now she stood in just her bra and panties. Salim’s gaze devoured her.

‘Si belle.’ So beautiful.

Nat ducked her head. Embarrassed. Salim tipped up her chin and one brow was arched. ‘What? You don’t know how beautiful you are? You are a woman, Natalja, who has lived and loved.’ He shook his head, ‘You’ve seen things…been braver than most people ever are.’

Nat felt meserised. Cocooned in this spiraling hot tension between them. She shook her head and whispered, ‘I wasn’t brave…it was a form of escape too, not dealing with things. And I’ve loved, yes, but not a man, a lover…’

Not someone like you, she just stopped herself from saying, realising in that moment that she’d always avoided that ultimate sacrifice of her heart for fear that she would be left, abandoned again. And suddenly, she realised that already this man had the power to hurt her.

Before that revelation could suck her under completely, Nat said huskily, ‘Kiss me Salim.’

‘With pleasure,’ he growled softly before drawing her into him and lowering his head to hers. The flimsy barriers of their clothes almost melted off their bodies. Nat was only aware her bra was gone because Salim was cupping both breasts as they kissed, fingers pinching her nipples to stinging points.

She was arched into him, tongues tangling, hands under his briefs, kneading the smooth taut muscles of his backside, the thrust of his arousal against her soft belly. She pushed his briefs down and felt that stiff column of flesh against her, skin to skin.

Drawing back, she looked down and a wave of heat pulsed through her to see him revealed. He was magnificent. A bead of moisture anointed the head and Nat touched it with her thumb, before looking up at Salim and bringing her thumb to her mouth and tasting his essence.

Salim looked tortured. ‘Dieu, I want you. Now.’

Nat felt heady with her power in that moment. That this huge awe inspiring man should be so hot for her. Salim took her hand and led her to the bed, drawing her down with him.

There were no barriers between them now, and Nat tangled her limbs with his, arms wrapped tight around him. His hands seemed to be everywhere, cupping and squeezing her bottom, covering her breast and reaching down to between her legs, finding that slick spot and making her moan and squirm as he circled and explored, taking her higher and higher.

In the haze of heat she barely heard the sound of a foil wrapper, or noticed that he left her for a second to put on protection. She was incoherent with need, a fine mist of perspiration covering her entire body.

He was behind her, gathering her into him, pulling one leg over his thigh, his arm holding her against him, tight. And then he was there, thrusting up and into her, so deep that she cried out.

He moved slowly then, giving her time to adjust, but there was no discomfort, only a feeling of intense union and completion, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She turned her head to find Salim’s mouth already searching for her, his hand cupping her face, holding her close, while his body moved in and out of hers with relentless precision.

Nat was lost, and yet profoundly rooted, mouth clinging to Salim’s, breaths feverish as their tongues mimicked the movement of their bodies. And then he moved his hand down, over her breasts and belly, to between her legs, fingers finding the centre of all her nerve endings, so close to where he was thrusting faster now, deeper.

He took his mouth from hers. Nat opened her eyes and saw only him. ‘Viens avec moi, Natalja.’

Come with me.

And as if her body had no choice but to respond, she did. In a twisting breaking free of that tight band of tension. She stopped breathing as her body soared so high she feared she might never come back. And then she did, crashing back to earth in a million shattered but glorious pieces, her body clamping tightly around Salim’s as he breathed out the shuddering aftermath of his own release.

Chapter Five

When Salim woke he was aware of a sense of panic even as his hand went out and found the bed beside him empty. The fact that this was a wholly new sensation after sleeping with a lover was not welcome.

He opened his eyes. She was gone. Not there. The panic rose higher. Merde. He felt weakened by the incredible sex, unable to gather his strength to move for a second.

He closed his eyes as a memory assailed him—the tight sheath of Nat’s body clamping around his, drawing the longest most intense climax he’d ever experienced out of him.

They’d lain there for a long moment, stunned by the depth of their release. And then Salim had extricated himself and dealt with the protection. When he’d come back, Nat had been curled up on her side, asleep, and he’d wrapped himself around her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. When it was anything but.

Cursing again, he got up, that panic intensifying. He prowled into the living area and his heart stopped and started again when he saw the terrace doors open to the balcony outside and a slim robed figure looking out over the view as the first pink light of dawn broke over London.

Not liking the sense of relief that gripped him, Salim went over and knew she heard him when he saw her tense minutely. He came up behind her and put his hands on the stone balcony on top of hers. Something deep in his soul was soothed, and instantly Salim told himself that that was ridiculous, it was just sex. Incredible sex.

‘I’ve always loved this time of the day.’

Salim’s libido reacted forcibly to the roughness of Nat’s voice. Rough because she’d been begging, pleading—he brutally cut off the memories and focused on the view. Birds soaring high against the skyline, free. And for the first time in years, Salim had a sense of something lifting off his shoulders. A dark weight.

He reached his arms around Nat and pulled her back against him. She fit him perfectly. Already he was hardening against her and he knew she felt it when her bottom moved against him.

‘I love it too,’ he heard himself saying. And he realised he did. The dawn had always seemed to him to hold the potential that perhaps the day ahead might not end in carnage and horror, and even if it did, the dawn never got tainted for him. As if some part of him refused to be dragged down completely.

Nat turned in his arms then and he saw her eyes flare when she realised he was naked. He caged her in, loving how she felt pressed against him, the way her head tipped back, those golden green eyes surveying him with such seriousness and yet with a hint of mischief and humour.

She bit her lip for a second and then she said huskily, ‘I don’t even know you. This is…’

Salim put a finger to her mouth, stopping her words. He took it away and looked at her and felt something break apart inside him.

‘I know,’ he just said, filled with a sudden incredible melancholy. Because she was right, even though she hadn’t said it, he knew what she would say…that this was crazy. They lived on opposite sides of the world. It was one night…they’d never see each other again.

As if reading his mind and absorbing that sadness, a small sob escaped Nat’s mouth and he saw a sheen in her eyes. When she stretched up to touch her mouth to his, a desperation infused their movements, desperate to reclaim what they’d just shared, desperate to make it last, even just a while longer.

* * *

When Salim woke again he knew the spell was broken. It was bright outside and he could hear the low constant hum of traffic. The bed beside him was empty. She was gone. Had she ever even existed or had he conjured her up out of a pathetic fantasy he’d never even realised he had? The desolation that ripped through him made him suck in a breath.

Salim sat on the edge of the bed and was about to walk to the shower when he spotted the small card on the bedside table.

He sat down again, heavily. Her card. She was real. Natalja Jordan. Dark blonde hair, huge golden eyes. A mouth made for sin and kissing and…when he thought of how she’d pressed kisses all over his body just a short time before…a mouth made for healing.

There was nothing written on it except her name and that she was a photographer and her website details. He turned it over and saw a mobile number written in pen on the back. His heart beat unsteadily. He imagined her then, getting on a plane, flying back to New York, getting submerged in her own world, forgetting about this night. About him.

Galvanised by something almost primal, Salim picked up the hotel phone and punched in the numbers. Almost angry now at the thought that she’d just left. After a second to connect, he heard a ring tone, and then he heard the distinct sound of a mobile phone ringing in the suite.

He put the phone down. The ringing stopped. Feeling dazed, and with his chest getting tight, Salim stood up and haphazardly pulled on his trousers, leaving them open.

He walked to the door of the bedroom and everything seemed to stop. Nat was standing there, hair tousled, in her gold dress. Bare feet. Holding her phone.

* * *

Nat took in Salim standing in the doorway. He looked shell-shocked. Her heart stuttered, shell-shocked because she was still here and he didn’t want her to be?

She found her voice. ‘I meant to leave. I was leaving…my flight…but then I got to the door, and I just…couldn’t.’

She shrugged her shoulder minutely feeling self-conscious. ‘I’ve missed my flight now. And I thought…I wondered if maybe you had some free time today, if you’d like to spend it with me?’

For a long moment Salim stood frozen like a statue and just when Nat was about to collapse under a wall of humiliation at her naivety, thinking a one-night stand was something more profound when she should know better, Salim broke out of his trance and came over to her.

His face was stark, eyes black. He put his hands on her shoulders and said faintly, ‘You’re still here.’

A very fragile unfurling of hope and joy made Nat’s voice shaky. ‘Yes, I’m still here.’

‘Last night wasn’t a dream.’

She shook her head. That treacherous joy taking root, spreading outwards. ‘No,’ she whispered. She put her hands on Salim’s waist. ‘It was real. As real as we are now.’

Something seemed to relax in Salim’s body as his hands moved to cup her face, fingers tangling in her hair, lifting her jaw up, angling her towards him.

He smiled and Nat’s heart split open.

‘I would like nothing more than to spend the whole day with you, Nat Jordan.’

Nat tried to hang onto some sense of reality. ‘But your meeting with your friend…Antonio.’

‘Not important. Not today.’

He pressed a kiss to her mouth and Nat drowned. When he pulled back she felt tears prick her eyes and furiously tried to blink them away. Her voice hoarse with repressed emotions she said, ‘But I live in New York…’ She huffed out a shaky laugh, ‘I don’t even know where you live?’

Salim looked serious as his thumbs rubbed back and forth across her cheeks. ‘Paris. But that’s just geography. Let’s start with today, because all I know is that right now I live here, with you, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.’

Nat wound her arms around his neck and pressed close again. She smiled up into those dark eyes which she could see now were flecked with tiny pieces of grey. Not totally black then.

‘Take me home, Salim.’

And he did.

* * * * *

Proposal in Room 309

Joss Wood

The Proposal in Room 309—Joss Wood

In this sparky novella by Modern Tempted™ author Joss Wood, sinfully sexy Ben gets down on one knee for an unexpected proposal to reluctant bride Joely. Will they learn the secret to a happy marriage at The Chatsfield?

Step behind the hotel room doors of The Chatsfield, London…

When Ben treats girlfriend Joely to a luxurious birthday night at The Chatsfield, he has more than celebration in mind. Joely may be antimarriage, but Ben is determined to show her they are destined for happy-ever-after! With every proposal attempt ending in disaster, Ben’s last hope is the stunning sapphire engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket.… But who would have thought that being walked in on by a stranger—while naked!—would be so good for a relationship?

Praise for Joss Wood:

‘Morgan’s struggles with a learning disorder and her fears that she “isn’t good enough,” along with Noah’s fear of allowing his emotions to take control of his life, add depth to this steamy, fast-paced story. Well-developed secondary characters are a bonus.’

—RT Book Reviews on FLIRTING WITH THE FORBIDDEN

‘Loved the chemistry between Rowan and Seb—Seb is adorable, and his angst runs deep.’

—Harlequinjunkie.com on THE LAST GUY SHE SHOULD CALL

‘I LOVED this book. The hero and heroine had an attraction I could absolutely feel. The secondary characters were just crackling with life. I believed everything that happened in this story would be real if the people existed, and that’s an amazing thing. When a book draws me in like this one, I hesitate to remove it from my tablet—just to remind myself to read it again later.’

—Harlequinjunkie.com on TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING?

‘Jack’s backstory is literally heart-wrenching. Watching Ellie and Jack dance around each other while trying to keep their lives the same was incredibly riveting. And seeing their growth really drew the whole story together. Amazing book. If you can keep it together in the last two chapters, I bow to you. Go read it… go on… go!’

—Harlequinjunkie.com on IF YOU CAN’T STAND THE HEAT

‘Wood’s tortured hero is believable and compelling, and the story takes readers on a passionate, emotional roller-coaster ride.’

—RT Book Reviews on IT WAS ONLY A KISS

‘Joss Wood has a writing style that is easy to read and will keep you glued to the pages… if you like reading sweet and sexy romance without going too much into all the naughty details, you’ll love this story.’

—Harlequinjunkie.com on IT WAS ONLY A KISS

Chapter One

‘Marriages are made in heaven’ had been the Master of Ceremonies’ opening remark at a mutual friend’s wedding eighteen months ago.

‘So are tornados, hurricanes and tropical storms.’

He’d turned at the sarcastic mutter behind him and looked into a pair of deep-as-midnight blue eyes and felt his heart bounce off his ribcage. Ka-doof!

‘Not a believer in the institution?’ he asked sotto voice as he stood with his back to the MC.

‘Hell, no,’ she’d scoffed. ‘You don’t need a certificate to be committed; you just need to be committed.’

He took a step back to stand next to the gorgeous sable-haired cynic.

‘Are you telling me that you can’t think of one reason to get married? Love?’

He kept his eyes on her face and watched her eyes narrow at his bland tone.

‘What’s love got to do with it? What can you do married that you can’t do living together? And then, to add insult to injury, when you marry you shove all your financial eggs into one basket and when you decide that you no longer want to be together, you have this turgid mess you have to pick through.’ Joely shook her head so hard that he thought she’d shake loose her sexy, messy pile of curls. ‘Madness. What’s that old saying…marriage is an institution and who wants to be in an institution?’

A lady of strong views, he’d thought. ‘My name is Ben Duncan.’

‘Joely Bennett.’

‘Can I get you a drink?’

Two shallow dimples flashed when she smiled. ‘Only if you promise not to propose.’

‘Well, not tonight.’

Eighteen months later and while much had changed between them, Joely’s anti-marriage views hadn’t. And that was why he’d chosen The Chatsfield to launch his campaign to change Joely’s mind. There was a reason it was voted one of the most romantic hotels in the world. The hotel, rich, luxurious, decadent, gave the subtle impression that anything was possible, that magic was hovering just around the corner.

Well, that was what the brochures and website said…Ben just wanted to get Joely out of their flat where she felt comfortable and settled, and hopefully she’d see happy honeymooners and settled families and wrinklies who’d been married for a hundred years.

He was also hoping that, since it was her birthday, she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment for raising ‘That Which Must Not Be Discussed’.

Joely had been hard to catch and, if he had to be honest, he still wasn’t sure whether she was really his. It had taken three weeks to persuade her to have dinner with him, another six to get her into bed and getting her to move in with him had required the finesse of a brain surgeon. Dr Joely Ann Bennett did not like change.

He believed in marriage, in the concept, in the promises that he wanted to make to her in front of their family and friends. And he didn’t fail; it wasn’t in his makeup, despite his genetics. When he started something he finished it, every single time. Unlike his father who flitted through life bouncing from one get rich quick scheme to another, expecting Ben to bail him out when it went pear shaped again. Like Joely’s parents, his father also had a tenuous grasp on the concept of commitment and fidelity.

Well, Ben and Joely were not their parents and they could do anything they wanted to…