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Their gaze remained unbroken. She saw his anger and lust. She’d never been so close to anyone, never seen naked desire like this. Never felt such frustration and basic emotion on show. She knew her face reflected the same.
Their bodies embraced, closer, ever closer. So intense was her consciousness that she came close to circuiting out, but she couldn’t bear to close her eyes. Impossible—she couldn’t break away from him. Lines had been opened between them, like a channel to the soul. She found it as fascinating as she did terrifying.
She’d never had sex like this.
She’d never made love like this.
As his hips pressed to meet her rising ones, as he worked deeper and deeper in, the intensity grew. The more she wanted to look away, the more she couldn’t. And then her body shorted and took the decision away from her. As the ecstasy hit her eyelids fluttered and his face was lost to her for moments as her body shook and his name passed unthinkingly, unwillingly from her lips again and again.
When she opened her eyes again it was to find his still bearing down on her, watching her surrender to the joy he’d given her with pure satisfaction. She wanted the same for him. She wanted him to have the same pleasure in her arms that she got from his. Her fingers flexed. He must have seen the desire in her eyes because his mouth twisted into a smile. He bent his head and kissed her, his mouth possessing as deeply and fully as the rest of his body already was—and she kissed him back with all the honesty she could. Uncaring of the degree to which she was revealing her need for him. He knew it anyway and he didn’t like her hiding it. So she gave it free rein. Caressing him, whispering what she wanted, what she liked, asking the same from him, wanting to please him, wanting to make his studious control evaporate. It didn’t take that long. His body went rigid and she tasted his groan as it was forced from him. She slipped her fingers from his and wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he came. Embracing all he had—all he was. And, in doing so, came all over again herself.
For long moments after she lay, still trembling, still in shock. She was too scared to look at him so she burrowed under his hot body. She didn’t know what to say. She’d just had the most intimate moment of her life and she was terrified.
Eventually he spoke. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m still not tired.’
‘No.’ Right now she didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Adrenalin raced through her. How had this guy suddenly become everything?
‘Still got more energy to burn?’ How could he sound so casual after the intensity of that sex? Probably because that was all it was for him—sex.
‘Let’s burn.’ Well, that was all it would be for her too. Sex—she needed it hard, fast and mindless. She needed pure body—not the merging of everything, the total sharing of minutes before. She needed to think of him purely as a source of pleasure—but as she cried out in his arms again, as she felt his body buckle in bliss, she knew she couldn’t ever think of him as such an object.
She was in big, big trouble. But as she lay cocooned in his arms his deep, regular breathing soothed her. The cotton sheet cooled her hot, over-sensitive skin and she slept at peace.
She woke in panic. She’d just slept with him. For hours, not minutes. And it felt fantastic. She’d entered a sweet dreamless state. That it had happened freaked her out almost as much as the nightmare that had haunted her for years. How was it she felt so safe with Daniel? When he challenged her every which way? When he was so remote and reserved?
‘Are we going to do this again?’
She looked at him. ‘Um.’
He stared straight at her, speaking as matter-of-fact as usual. Cut and dried. He could have been discussing a purchase of bread and milk, he sounded so everyday. ‘Because frankly I’m keen, but I can’t be bothered with the “Oh, no, I don’t want to” rubbish I had from you last week.’
Her jaw fell open. He shut it for her with a push of his finger against her chin and gave her a grin that only just let him get away with it.
‘I want you. We’re good in bed together, Lucy. We might not have much else in common, but we can do satisfaction. And then we both sleep. Noticed that?’
Of course. It was crazy. She felt more rested than she had in years—even though they’d slept only a few hours. But a perfect, deep sleep—the sort she usually dreamed of as she lay awake hour after hour through the dark night. No nightmares. She’d felt secure, safe.
‘You’re the best cure for insomnia I’ve ever had.’
‘I’m not quite sure that’s a compliment.’
He laughed. ‘Touché.’ He sat up in the bed, resting his elbows on his raised knees. ‘You physically and mentally exhaust me.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’
‘It is, because then I can sleep and that feels fantastic.’He turned and caught her gaze full on again. ‘Tell me it isn’t the same for you.’
She’d promised him she wouldn’t lie. It was the same. Sparring with him, wondering what angle he was coming from. Trying to figure out what the hell was going on in that overly complex brain of his—and trying to hide what was going on in hers—wore her out. And then there was the sex—consuming every ounce of physical energy she had. Leaving her drained yet replete. Exhausted but invigorated. And able to sleep—in his arms.
‘I sleep OK with you.’ She’d said she wouldn’t lie; as far as she was concerned understating things was still allowed.
‘So it’s a deal, then? We sleep together—all senses of the word.’
She supposed she should say no. Most other women would. Ha—that was a lie: most women would leap at the chance to be with Daniel night after night. His lover credentials were unbeatable. Physique plus technique equals magnifique.
She just had to remember there was nothing else on offer here. Merely a deal to sleep with someone—two insomniacs having regular sex in the quest for a decent night’s rest after.
Anyway, she shouldn’t want anything else, should she? Not from a shining example of modern conservative establishment like Daniel.
‘OK.’ She nodded. ‘Someone to sleep with.’ That was all he would be. Her bedmate.
He kissed her. ‘I have to go to work. Be here tonight.’
Who was she kidding? When he kissed her like that fantasies of night after night leading to for ever skipped through her head. She frowned. ‘After the club?’
He nodded. ‘My bed.’
She looked down. She was afraid that, now he’d seen into her once, he’d see all there was to see all the time. That she was turning all female and falling for him. What had happened to her bluffing skills?
He took her chin again and tilted her face back to him. ‘No regrets.’
Once more he kissed her—thoroughly, deeply, teasingly. And it was so unfair because now she was left in bed warm and wet and wanting all over once more and he was gone for the day. She should be gone for good. Instead she rolled over and snuggled in the scent of him, in his sheets. So she couldn’t say no, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come up with a strategy. She’d challenge him right back.
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_7b6b0c0e-f71e-5f52-926d-7537157f6299)
You find it difficult to switch off from your job
WHEN Lucy got home in the early hours Daniel was lying on the sofa reading, waiting.
‘Have you eaten?’
She shook her head and glanced at the spotless kitchen. ‘Nor have you.’
‘Let’s get pizza.’ Instead of reaching for the phone, he reached for her instead. He tipped her head back and she opened her mouth and welcomed him with her tongue, her arms, the press of her pelvis against his.
He lifted away fractionally. ‘What do you want? Really want. And I don’t mean on your pizza.’
‘I want to come. I want you to make me come. I want you to come with me.’ She’d turned into a nymphomaniac just like that. She’d always craved freedom—rebelled against her family, her school, any form of authority. It was why she loved dancing. But that freedom was nothing on the freedom she’d found in his arms. The way she could be held but made to feel as if she were flying. It was a freedom that kept her chained to him. She needed to combat it—by seeing how far she could push him. ‘You phone the pizza. I’ll be back in a minute.’
His gaze hit on her cowboy hat the minute she came back into the room twirling it. His smile grew. ‘You want me to dress up as a cowboy?’
‘Oh, no. You’ve got it all wrong.’ She donned the hat at a rakish angle and pouted. ‘I’m the one who does the riding.’
He put on an appalling western accent. ‘Well, jump on, darlin’. This stallion is more than a little frisky—care to break him in?’
‘Actually, no, I was hoping for a wild ride.’
His brows shot up.
She walked towards him, letting her hips sway. ‘Ever done that, Daniel? Ever totally given up control? Ever just done what you wanted regardless of how crazy just because it felt too good not to?’
‘I thought I did that last night.’
‘I think you can do better.’
‘Do you now?’
‘Maybe. Can you, Daniel? Forget everything but how you feel? Can you not think? That enough of a challenge for you?’
‘Not think? Trouble, if I was thinking, I wouldn’t be here right now.’
Her mouth softened in appreciation. If she were thinking she’d be out of here too. Instead the feeling was too good to ignore. ‘Dance with me.’
He took her in waltz hold and expertly span her around the room. She pushed him away, waggling her finger at him as if he were a naughty schoolboy. ‘You’re still in control, Daniel. I want you to lose it.’
He pulled her closer. ‘You know, you’re not that great at letting go either, Lucy. You’re too busy coming up with cutting comments and being all prickly.’
She stared up at him. There were reasons for the prickles. Good ones. Protective ones.
His eyes accused her. ‘You don’t want anyone to get too close.’
Well, he was as guilty of that as she was. And, yeah, she found it hard to trust people. Now the person she trusted least was herself. She wanted Daniel beyond belief but he couldn’t give her anything more than his body—and even that was only on short-term loan, so she had to do the protective thing more than ever.
‘Ever let go, Lucy? Ever not think?’ This wasn’t right—he wasn’t supposed to turn the tables.
‘On the dance floor.’
‘OK.’ Wicked light flared in his eyes. ‘Dance for me.’
She stepped back from him, her smile of delight wide as she figured the way to rule him again. ‘You want me to strip too?’
‘I…um…’
The key to success—she’d just rendered him speechless. Out of control was fast approaching, for both of them. She shimmied towards him. ‘I’m dancing to country, you know, in my head.’
‘As I can’t hear it, that’s just fine.’
She spent the night in his arms. Sleeping with him. All night. Relaxed. Secure. Everything she’d wanted, from the wrong man—the emotional vacuum that was Daniel Graydon. Fate was nasty.
He rose early. From his bed she watched through the open door as he shaved and showered. He walked back through. Silent. She could see he was miles away, no doubt already mentally slugging it out in the courtroom. He dressed. Dark suit, white shirt, dark tie. Her passionate, playful lover disappeared under the guise, turned into a frowning figure. Austere. She hated it.
Then he surprised her by turning to her with a smile that made her forget his clothing. ‘Walk with me. Come and see where I work.’
She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? A walk in the early-morning sun will do you some good.’
She slipped from the bed and pretended to ignore the growing glitter in his eyes as she stepped into her jeans.
‘Do you always go commando?’
She grinned and shook her head.
‘I’m not sure I believe you. Every time I tell you to get dressed you don’t bother with underwear.’
‘It’s the rebel in me. I’m doing as asked but not all the way. My little act of defiance.’
He chuckled. ‘Yeah. That figures.’
Daniel had left all the files at the office to be brought over by his team so, other than his briefcase, he was unburdened on the walk. They called into the café and got coffee to go.
‘You don’t want food?’ Lucy asked.
‘Maybe later,’ he answered distractedly.
She swiped a banana from the bowl on the counter and added it to her purchase.
As they headed into lawyerville Lucy’s feeling of intimidation grew. Insecure, threatened, she thought she saw everyone looking her way. Conscious of her ancient jeans and less-than-fresh top, she had a needy moment. ‘They probably think I’m one of your clients.’
‘Probably,’ Daniel answered carelessly.
He stopped walking and turned to her, briefcase in one hand while the other lifted to her face. Then he combed his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head and pulling her close. The kiss was sweltering. Hot, hungry, open. No restraint. His briefcase hit the ground as his other hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans and curved around her bare buttock, squeezing gently. Just as suddenly it was over.
She snaked in a breath and wished they were miles away from here. Together, alone and naked.
Daniel grinned at her. ‘Now they don’t.’
She glanced around the group of lawyers. Saw them swapping stunned looks.
‘You’re a bad influence on me, Lucy.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘You have me liking to shock people.’
She handed him the banana. ‘To keep your energy up.’
He took it with a smile and went to join his team.
Not liking the way he fitted in so perfectly with them she turned and walked—fast, almost smacking straight into Sarah.
‘Hello, Lucy.’ She had a frozen smile pinned to her face and icicles in her eyes. Lucy knew she wasn’t cutting the mustard as far as Sarah was concerned. She knew Sarah had seen that shattering kiss. She’d looked shocked, though not half as shocked as Lucy.
The day passed in a haze. Lucy went to work in the early afternoon and did some more on her proposal—the one she’d give to Lara on her return. She had some ideas about taking the club to the next level and ached to be given the chance to do it. She liked nothing more than hanging out there. It was second only to the time in Daniel’s bed. She was filled with desires she’d never expected to experience. Wanting to work. Wanting to love.
Late afternoon and punters arrived. Isabel clocked on to help with the post-work rush. Lucy smiled at the regulars she was getting to know well. She was actually content.
Daniel appeared late in the evening. She’d been wondering how he’d got on, and worrying about the hours he worked. Hell. She was turning into his mother. He sat at the end of the bar—his usual seat—and ordered a whiskey. She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as she poured the drink. She set it in front of him but said nothing, sensing his need for space. So she moved about the bar, serving patrons, chatting with Isabel, clearing glasses and all the while intensely aware of him as he sat and sipped and stared after her.
