Ain't Misbehaving (12 page)

“Oh?” Ash steepled his hands in front of his face and attempted to conceal his grin. Her unconscious body language contradicted her words.

Prim looked cute on her—a contrast to her previous moods. She hadn’t acted shy the night of the ball, catching his eye and boldly returning his gaze across the dance floor.

“You wouldn’t enjoy the sensation of a brush swirling chocolate over your naked breasts? Or me removing the chocolate with my lips and tongue?” She shifted on her chair, and a trace of satisfaction shot through him. She was gorgeous with a delicate blush of arousal highlighting her cheeks and echoing the sun in her glorious red hair. He wanted to whisk her onto his knee and hold her. Hell, just thinking about Charlotte and chocolate in the same sentence made him want to imitate her squirm. His cock hardened into prominence, and he almost chuckled out loud. His seduction technique had ricocheted—just a tad.

Their waiter arrived, his attention on their plates. He aimed his farewell smile at the empty air above Ash’s head. Ash forgave him since the arrival of food offered a chance to up the flirtation stakes. While he no longer played the field, he’d acquired knowledge of women and seduction along the way. No point in letting his hard-won experience go to waste.

He indicated the different foods on the
meze
tray. “Do you like prawns?” At her nod, he speared one with his fork and held it out to her. She hesitated a second before closing her lips around the morsel. He watched her avidly as she chewed and swallowed, enjoying her intense focus on the flavors and the way she closed her eyes for an instant. He selected a stuffed mushroom cap and offered it to her.

“What about you?” she protested.

“I need you to test everything to make sure it’s fine for me to eat.” He felt the tug on his scarred cheek when he widened his grin. His father had been right with his homespun wisdom. Good things came to patient people. He passed the fork under her nose.

“I’m not going to argue anymore. That smells wonderful.” Her mouth closed around the mushroom and a tiny hum of pleasure escaped her.

The sound zapped through him, tightening his chest until an ache reminded him to breathe. God, she was beautiful. He stretched his legs, subtly invading her space, and reached for a piece of bread and some hummus dip. She watched him, her lips parting as if she anticipated him feeding her again. Instead he popped it in his mouth, his heart drumming when he witnessed her interest.

She reached for an olive and held up out to him, her eyes twinkling in challenge. Their gazes met and held as he bit down on the tart fruit stuffed with sundried tomato. And just like that his blood roared south, leaving him lightheaded and aroused. He swallowed the olive, without taking his eyes off her. No way in hell did he intend to back off and let her go, to hell with the gossip. Somehow together, they’d weather any storm of public interest.

When the main courses arrived, he eased off on the flirtation, and she relaxed, her brown eyes sparkling with humor as he told her about one of his first customers, a sixty-year-old gentleman with set views on the roles of men and women.

“So he wanted a traditional ad?”

“He did. I conspired with his wife and what he ended up with was something quite different. The locals who knew him loved the humor of the ad, and it did wonders for their farm apparel store.”

Charlotte eyed his plate. “Is the lamb good?”

“Try some.” He cut a piece, speared it with his fork and held it to her lips. He almost groaned out loud when she opened her mouth and took the food. In his mind, he was thinking of her in the hotel room and how her lips had felt encircling the head of his cock. If he had his way, he’d experience that slice of heaven again. Soon.

Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, moistening the curves of her mouth before vanishing. His interested gaze followed the sexy move. His shaft lengthened again, and all he could think about was hustling her into a private spot and lifting aside clothes so he could slide into her snug heat.

“This chicken is delicious. The lemon in the dish is the perfect complement.”

“Try more lamb.” Another excuse to stare at her mouth. “Your hair is beautiful. When the light catches the strands, it’s like watching fire.”

She swallowed the meat. “The kids used to tease me at school.”

“Carrot top?” he guessed. At her nod, he said, “I got teased because of my scars. At least until they became used to them.”

She studied his face for a long moment, scrutinizing him. He knew what she saw—the faint pinkness of his ruined cheek, the contrasting tan of his untouched one. His black hair was cut short and did nothing to hide his scars. He’d never be pretty, didn’t come close to handsome. Over the years he’d become used to people’s reactions and ignored the stares and rude comments. But he wanted Charlotte to see him, both the good and bad. He wanted her to like the man.

“That must have been hard. Kids can be cruel. Some adults too.”

He shrugged. “People are wary of different. I hated school at first, but my father—” He broke off with a rueful sigh. “He wouldn’t let me hide out. He told me I needed to put myself forward and to make friends with the girls. His theory was if the girls paid attention, the boys would come around. He urged me to play sport and attend social occasions. I always had friends around home. Dad’s a builder, and he had the coolest ideas for playgrounds and making wooden carts. All sorts of things. When I was older, he encouraged me to travel in Europe for a year. A positive attitude wasn’t always easy, but looking back, I can see Dad’s advice was spot on. I grew in confidence.”

“Your father sounds wonderful.” A faint smile played around her lips as if she were imagining the scene at his childhood home and the resulting mayhem.

“Dad is amazing. He always told me I couldn’t let my scars define me. I was more than a kid with scars. I’m talking too much. Another glass of wine?”

“No thank you,” she said promptly. “I blame the Champagne for getting me in trouble the other night.”

“Good to know,” he said, taking a mental note to make sure he had a bottle or two of Champagne on hand at his house. “Do you want anything else to eat? Some dessert? Coffee?”

“No thanks. That was delicious. It’s such a treat to eat something I didn’t cook.”

“Thank, God,” he said hoarsely. “Watching you eat is torturous. I want to drag you over here and kiss you in the worst way.”

She let out a sound, close to a whimper and diverted her gaze to her lap. Her breasts rose and fell, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. All at once he was reminded of her taste, her scent when aroused.

Ash caught the waiter’s eye—a difficult task that took frustratingly long minutes. Finally, the waiter trotted over to their table. “Can we have the bill please?”

The staff completed this part of the evening with haste, and soon they were outside. Night had fallen while they were dining and now streetlights shone on the road and footpaths. Ash glanced up and down the street, checking for people, for reporters or cameras. Nothing. His breath eased out, and he seized Charlotte’s hand. Pulling her close, he pressed a quick and entirely unsatisfactory kiss on her upturned lips. Not enough. He started walking, tugging her after him. An alley. Perfect.

Ash dragged Charlotte into the dark shadows, his heart thumping, desire a heady beat through his veins. Before she could speak, could voice the questions he knew she’d have, he covered her mouth with his, taking her like a famished man.

Chapter Four

Charlotte wanted to protest, wanted to say she wasn’t that sort of girl, but the words jammed halfway up her throat. She clutched his shoulders and let him kiss her. Cripes, why not tell the truth? At least to herself. He made her feel free and daring, and she wanted him so much it hurt.

He fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, wrenched her bra aside. She groaned against his mouth as he thumbed her aching nipple, tugging and creating the perfect friction. One hand crept up her thigh and under her skirt, palming her buttock and squeezing.

She pulled away from the kiss, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. His hands didn’t leave her skin. He surrounded her with his power, his scent. His determination. Fear should have filled her, but he brought out the femininity in her, made her feel more than a drudge. He made her beautiful. Powerful. And it was heady stuff.

“I don’t suppose you have a condom?” Ms. Feisty to the fore.
Oh, yeah.

He muttered something under his breath, seconds before his fingers dipped beneath the band of her panties. Fabric ripped as he cupped her heat. She gripped his
shoulders and held on, moaning her pleasure when one finger pushed inside her. Not even the embarrassing liquid squelch of her arousal pulled her from the spell. All she could think about was him filling her, thrusting deep with his hard length.

Impatient for more, she attacked the fastening of his trousers, pleased to find a distinct bulge. “Ash, please.”

He flicked his finger over her clit. “Please what?” His gritty voice told her they were both lost causes. Neither of them possessed an ounce of good sense.

“Fuck me. Please, I need you inside me now.”

“I thought we weren’t going to have sex again.”

Her groan was half laugh “This is scratching an itch. Putting out a fire. You started it with your dinner flirtation. Fix it.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Two fingers pumped into her now, and she sensed rather than saw his grin. Oh Lord. It wasn’t enough.

“More.” She yanked at his zipper, managing to get it open, and scooped his cock out with difficulty. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but she could feel. The sweep of her thumb was greeted with beads of moisture.

“Charlotte, don’t do that. I can’t…let me get a condom.”

She almost cried at the emptiness when he pulled his fingers out of her. He gave her panties a sharp yank, and they came away in his hand. She thought he stuffed them in his pocket but couldn’t be sure.

The rustle of clothing sounded, the crinkle of a foil packet.

“Stand over here,” he said, guiding her to a place with a low brick wall.

The sweet scent of spring flowers wafted to her, a hint of daffodils and erlicheer. Someone’s garden. Then thoughts fled from her head. He turned her to face the wall and lifted her skirt. The evening breeze blew across her bottom, a contrast to the searing heat between her legs.

“Perfect,” Ash said and with a low growl he filled her with one steady thrust.

Her breath caught at the rightness of his possession. She bit down on her lip, the distant sound of a voice, the faint rumble of a passing car reminding her this was a public place where they faced discovery at any second.

As if sensing her desperation, Ash set a fast pace. In and out. Thrust and withdraw, filling the empty spaces inside her.

“Play with your clit,” he whispered against her ear. “Make yourself come.”

His directions fired a switch in her. She wanted to please him, and oh, she craved release in the worst way.

One hand gripped her hip, hard enough to leave a bruise. His other hand snaked around her torso, seeking her breast. While her finger slipped back and forth over her flesh, he plucked her nipple, his handling rough and perfect.

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, trying to contain her cries of pleasure. He shoved deep and pinched her nipple hard. Combined with her stroking finger, it was too much, and the coil of sensual tension inside her snapped, exploding, drowning her in the aftermath. Her keening moan seemed to set him off. He drove into her with hard, uncompromising strokes before freezing, balls deep in her rippling flesh, his breaths harsh against her ear.

After a long moment, he pulled out. His clothes rustled as he dealt with the condom and righted his appearance. Charlotte stayed where she was, unsure if her legs would support her without the rigid brick to aid her balance.

“Charlotte, are you okay?”

“Yes.” Her reply emerged sharp. Short. The passion, the languid pleasure still roaring through her veins shocked her. What was it with this man? Without even trying he pushed past her defenses and incited her to riot against good behavior.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.” He pulled her skirt down to cover her naked bottom and turned her into his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” she said, reaching up to place her fingers across his mouth. “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.” For once, uncertainty coated his voice.

Unable to make out the nuances of his expression in the dim alley, she reached up to kiss him instead. His arms swept around her, crushing her bare breasts against his shirt. But it was his harsh groan of surrender that thrilled her most of all.

They kissed for ages, neither flinching when the click of heels against pavement indicated someone passing the mouth of the alley.

He lifted his lips, pressing his forehead against hers. “I intended to use a bit more finesse with my seduction.”

Charlotte sighed. “I should go home. I want to ring the hospital to check on Gran.” She tugged her bra into place and fumbled with her buttons, praying they were in the right holes. “What happened to my undies?”

“I’m afraid I ripped them.”

“You’re a bit hard on my lingerie, Ash. This is the second time I’ve had to leave the scene of the crime with a bare ass.”

He chuckled as they walked toward his car. “Scene of the crime?”

“Yeah.”

“I have your apricot panties at home.”

Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip as she considered what that meant. It wasn’t the behavior of a man on a one-night stand, or maybe it was. She had no idea since she and her stepsisters never discussed this sort of stuff. “I’ll have to start going commando soon,” she said drily as he settled her in the passenger seat. A fact. Elizabeth didn’t pay her much and had only given her a small wage each week at Gran’s insistence.

His grin was pure bad boy as he climbed behind the wheel. “The idea has merit.” His hand landed on her knee and skirted upward in an impudent manner.

“It’s not decent. Proper women do not go about without underwear.”
And they shouldn’t leave a trail behind them either.
Charlotte fought the instinct to spread her legs and give him full access to her pussy. A sharp intake of breath did nothing to clear her lust-filled brain.
Resistance is futile
. Holy Hannah. She was not letting a rich man rescue her from drudgery. It was too…too Cinderellish.