About Last Night (11 page)

He braced his arms on either side of her head. “Cath. Look at me.”

She did, and his eyes told her he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him. He leaned closer. “You’re driving me mad, woman. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Tell me you’ll come home with me.”

She shouldn’t. She definitely shouldn’t.

“Okay. But I’m having the cookies for dinner.”

As soon as they’d passed through the street-level door, he pressed her up against the stairwell wall and kissed her senseless, taking her from want to desperate need in about five seconds with his hungry tongue and the press of his erection against her stomach.

“Upstairs,” she managed to say on a gasp.

She started to strip the second she crossed the threshold to his flat, pulling her shirt over her head and spinning around so she could watch him while she backed toward the bedroom. Nev kept his eyes on her as he shrugged out of his jacket, yanked his tie loose, untied his shoes. She kicked off her heels and shimmied out of her skirt in the doorway to his room; he unbuttoned
his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor.

Then they were on the bed and his tongue was in her mouth again, her hips pressing upward and wriggling around until what she wanted was pressed firmly against her warm flesh through the barrier of her panties and she got even wetter, which hardly seemed possible.

“Anytime now, City. For the love of—”

His mouth closed over hers again, harsh, impatient. He got her panties off one-handed while kissing her, which would have impressed her if she’d been in any state to be impressed. The only thing she was in any state to do was spread her legs wide and pull him close. He got the message.

When he thrust home, Cath’s eyes flew open to meet his. The moment was intense, electric with sex and something else, a connection between them she wasn’t going to examine right now or possibly ever. Whatever it was, it felt freaking fantastic.

“Christ, that’s good.”

He grinned. “See, I knew you liked me.”

When she rose to her elbows, lifting her hips to bring him as far inside her as possible, he went still, and then his forehead knitted up and he said, “Shit. I forgot the sodding Durex.”

He didn’t withdraw, instead prolonging the full-body contact while he reached one long arm toward the side table where he kept the condoms. She put her hand up to stop him. “Wait. We don’t necessarily need it.”

“You’re on birth control?”

“No. But I can’t get pregnant.”

His gaze flicked down to where their bodies joined at the hips, then just as quickly returned to hers, and she knew at some point he must have noticed the faint scar running low across her pelvis. It had been her first tattoo, in a way. Her first reminder of how cruelly life could punish recklessness in love.

“Don’t ask me about it.”

He met her eyes and shook his head slightly. He wouldn’t. Not now.

“Before you, I hadn’t had sex in two years,” she said, “and your fine National Health Service says I’m in prime condition. So unless you have something nasty—in which case you’ve probably just given it to me and you’re an evil bastard—we’re okay without the condoms.”

He smiled, sweet and a bit bashful. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know.” He wouldn’t hurt her. Never on purpose. Nev was going to hurt her accidentally, and when he did it would be her own fault. It turned out that it was just as easy to make a mistake with your eyes open as it was to make one out of ignorance. She hadn’t understood that before. It was something she was learning from him.

“So we’re good?” she asked.

“We’re bloody amazing,” he answered, seating himself so deeply inside her she had to bite her lip.

“Start moving then.” She lifted her hips, insistent.

“You’re so bossy.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her along so that she ended up on top. “I had a long day, love. Why don’t you take charge, since you seem determined to give orders?”

“Suits me.”

Cath positioned her knees beneath her and sat up, reveling in the sensation of his hard, hot length inside her. Nev’s hands rose to her breasts, pushing the lace cups of her bra aside. He levered himself up enough to draw a nipple into his mouth, then sucked hard. Her head dropped back as her eyes drifted shut. He was normally such an attentive lover, but today he was rougher. Their teasing barely disguised something primal in both of them.

She wanted him completely uncivilized. Stripped bare and starving.

Crumpling the sheet in her fists, she rode him. Her focus narrowed to the tight pull between her breast and her clit, the slow drag of his cock producing enough pleasure to swamp her nervous system. When he bit her nipple, she cried out and rode harder—rode him until her thighs trembled and she had to brace one arm against the headboard and push his mouth away, because her orgasm was bearing down, slamming through her, tearing her apart.

Nev’s hands found her hips then, and he drove into her without restraint, half a dozen
strokes was all it took to bring his own release.

They were loud and messy together. Sweaty and transcendent. Alarmingly, wonderfully out of control.

They were the closest thing to perfect she’d ever known.

Fantastic sex weakened her resolve. That, or the sight of Nev wearing pin-striped trousers and nothing else while cooking her dinner was just way too good to pass up. When he chopped garlic and pepper and tomatoes into tiny pieces, the muscles of his forearms flexed, and her eyes were drawn to the small, sure movements of his fingers and hands on the knife. It was terribly sexy.

Infatuated
didn’t begin to describe it.

She pulled another cookie out of the package, determined that if she was going to have dinner with him, she would at least spoil her appetite first. You know, to make a point. Though for the life of her she couldn’t say what the point was.

Nev tossed the vegetables into a skillet with some olive oil and let them cook while he sliced bread and grated fresh Parmesan, mixing it with soft butter.

Seriously, was there nothing the man couldn’t do? He was employed, handsome, smart, funny, good in bed, and he cooked. He had to have some horrible hidden flaw, but so far she hadn’t seen any trace of it.

“Are you married?” she asked, thinking maybe she’d missed the obvious. He didn’t wear a ring, but that was no guarantee.

He smiled and started spreading the Parmesan butter on the bread. “Does it look like I’m married?”

He had a point. The flat was small, neat, and utterly devoid of any sign of female presence. “No, but it occurred to me this could be your secondary residence. You know, like you
could stash your mistress here and keep a wife somewhere swankier.”

“Sorry, this is it. I don’t have a wife. Or a mistress, for that matter.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

“I do, that’s the whole problem. I keep trying to figure out what your horrible flaw is, and I’m not having any luck. By all appearances, you’re perfect.”

“Why must I have a horrible flaw?”

“All the guys I sleep with have horrible flaws.”

“Perhaps I’m the exception to the rule.”

“Nah. I’m not that lucky.”

He took the vegetables off the heat and started cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Maybe you have a drug habit?” she proposed.

“Does whiskey count?”

“Depends how much you drink.”

“A few glasses a week.”

“Nope, that’s not enough. Do you suck your thumb?”

He gave her a bemused glance. “No.”

“How do you feel about men?”

“If I haven’t yet managed to convince you I’m straight, love, I’d be happy to give it another go.”

She waved a hand at him dismissively. “Don’t distract me. I’m on a roll here.”

He mixed the vegetables and eggs together and tilted them into the skillet with more olive oil. She grabbed another cookie. When she looked up at him again, he was leaning against the counter and watching her, his arms crossed over his bare chest. She wondered if he had any idea how much she wanted to lick him right now.

“What?” she asked, never much good at waiting.

“Have you ever had better sex with someone else?”

Taken by surprise, she blurted out the obvious answer. “Not even close.”

“Nor have I. Not even close, Cath.” He turned back to the pan, lifting the edges to let the uncooked eggs flow underneath.

What, he was just going to ask her that and let it hang?

“And?”

“And it seems to me that when I meet a woman with whom I have a phenomenal physical connection, who I think about so much it disrupts my ability to do my job, not to mention sleep, and who I find attractive and interesting and funny and enjoy spending time with, perhaps it’s not a bad idea to get to know her better. Which is why I find it a bit baffling, to be honest, that you’re so determined to keep me at arm’s length.”

As far as she could recall, no one had ever said that many nice things about her at once before. All the compliments gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling she didn’t quite know what to do with. She decided another cookie was the way to go.

He had a point, she thought, chewing. She wasn’t approaching this thing with City in the most conventional manner. But he didn’t know her track record. She wasn’t the most conventional girl.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not doing a very good job of keeping you at arm’s length,” she said at last. “After I left here on Saturday, I decided never to see you again.”

He was sliding the frittata under the broiler, so she could only see his profile, but damn if he didn’t appear to be smirking.

“I know that, darling. It wounds my pride you won’t go out with me, but I can console myself with the knowledge that when you do see me, you can’t keep your knickers on for ten minutes running.”

She threw her cookie at him, feigning indignation. “You bastard! Are you calling me easy?”

“I like you easy. Besides, you’re not to blame. Who’d want to wear wet knickers?”

She had another cookie locked and loaded, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet to kiss her. It was a long, slow, lazy kiss, as if he would have been happy to do it all night. Her lower belly got all warm and tingly, and she was about ready to drag him down on the kitchen table when he set her free to pull his magazine-spread-gorgeous frittata out of the oven and slide the tray of Parmesan bread under the broiler to toast.

“You are disgustingly perfect,” she said, happy.

“Let me take you to lunch tomorrow.”

She said no, but she knew her eyes were saying yes.

Chapter Ten

He spotted her as soon as he came through the gate of the park, but it took him at least half a mile to catch up to her. For such a short woman, she was quick, and he was fairly sure he only caught her because she’d decided to allow it.

It was a decent metaphor for their relationship, really. For two weeks, she’d been in his bed nearly every night. They’d done just about everything two people could do to each other, and still he wanted her, every day, all the time. And still she made him chase her down.

Cath called all the shots. She seemed more comfortable that way, so Nev had decided not to press. Much. Instead, he looked for the loopholes and exploited them.

He wasn’t to know what time she’d be on the train, but he could buy coffee and pastries for her on the days he happened to find her there. She wouldn’t tell him when or if she’d be running in the park, but she’d let him run with her if their paths crossed. She refused to say where she worked, though she’d tell him when he guessed wrong.

Nor would she give him her mobile number, even though she’d saved his in her phone. He’d told her where his office was, too, and had issued an open invitation to lunch. He reckoned that if he kept asking, sooner or later she’d break down and let him through her defenses. That, or he’d run out of patience and start begging.

“Morning, City,” she said when he finally drew even with her.

She’d never once called him Nev. The nickname was one more way for her to deny who he really was and what was developing between them. One more wall she’d put up. He gave it a kick. “What do you have against my name?”