Nice Girls Finish Last (5 page)

‘You sound surprised.' She watched him slowly turn full circle in the centre of her room. The opportunity to ogle him was too tempting. Just looking made her more restless. A tall man in suit trousers and a cotton shirt—how could so simple be so sexy?

Erotic urges clamoured for her to act. In part because she couldn't believe this actually might happen. It was as if she was driven to push it fast now, for fear he'd change his mind—that this was all a joke or something. But she could hardly jump his bones two seconds after letting him into her house. She tensed her pelvic muscles to get the hot, hungry feeling under control, only that made it worse.

It was sick. And, frankly, sensational.

‘No flatmates?'

‘Not right now,' she squawked an answer. She'd been thinking about getting a flatmate to help expand her woefully small social life but hadn't had the time to advertise yet.

‘It's very comfortable.' His attention lingered on her big sofa. It faced a big TV screen. Yes, she had a sub to the satellite sports channel.

Dazed by the rushing feeling, she half managed to keep the conversation going. ‘You didn't expect that?'

‘For some reason I thought you'd have a more minimalist approach.'

Lena laughed. This was no cool, clutter-free room; instead almost every area could be sprawled on. The oversized sofa and big armchair were covered with rich fabrics, rafts of cushions and a couple of soft wool throws tossed over for good measure. Which was the point. She wanted her home to offer comfort, not be filled with the trophies of siblings, or photos of other people's success. The house where she'd grown up had been filled with mementos of family glory—none of which had been hers. It had been the environment where success and achievement were all that mattered. Here there were no tick charts or training programmes or study guides pinned to the walls. This place was her sanctuary.

‘I just wanted a place to relax, you know?' She tried to joke but sounded too husky.

He faced her directly, his blue eyes bright. ‘If I get onto that sofa, I don't think I'll get off it again.'

‘Then no sofa just yet.' She flicked her tongue over her hot, tight lips. ‘I'm hungry.'

‘Hungry is good,' he said softly. ‘Because I've got lots to offer.'

O-o-okay. So the entendres were appalling. And irresistible.

‘But, you know, I didn't get to the shops.' He shrugged apologetically. ‘Didn't get anything fresh.'

‘You were waiting at the stadium the whole time?' She had only just worked it out now. It had been Dion she'd heard leave.

He looked softly amused. ‘Well, I didn't want you to change your mind and disappear on me.'

She felt the now familiar heat burn hotter in her cheeks. Yes, he'd known she'd been going to. She turned towards the kitchen. ‘I'm afraid I don't have much in my pantry.'

‘Why don't you let me be the judge of that?' He brushed
past unnecessarily close, the slight touch sizzling that tiny patch of skin.

Oh, hell, were they still talking with double meanings?

Smiling at her insane need and even more insane thoughts, she counted to three before following him to the kitchen. She perched on one of the stools by the bench and tried not to stare.

Clearly he'd noted the nothing much in the fridge because he was now frowning into the small freezer, obviously not a fan of the microwave meals she usually existed on. She nipped her lower lip, stopping herself from justifying their tragic existence, but she often worked late and was tired when she got in…. Yeah, so much for
fresh.

‘You like pizza?' He slammed the freezer door and spun to face her. ‘I know a great place that does delivery.'

‘Your world-famous crusts?' She knew it was the pizza business he'd launched then sold when still in his teens that had netted him his first million.

‘And buns.' He chuckled. ‘You've tried them before?'

She shook her head. ‘I don't usually do fast food or take-away.'

His grin widened. ‘Didn't think so.' Still that damn doubletalk. ‘Means we'll have half an hour or so to wait for it,' he noted with a teasing lilt. ‘What do you think we should do?'

His gaze met hers and held it firm. Time expanded…. It might have been an hour or so before she answered.

‘Have a drink,' she croaked eventually. ‘Chat.'

They had to talk. Even just for ten minutes. That meant they'd have talked for about fifteen minutes before flinging into bed together. ‘So—' she fought for some kind of conversation starter ‘—you're not even Italian and you sold everyone pizza.'

‘Pizza's a universal thing.' He reopened her fridge and
pulled a bottle of wine from the depths with a pleased smile. ‘I wanted to see if I could take an already established product and compete against the big corporates in a new way.'

‘But then you sold out to them.' She set two glasses on the bench between them.

He chuckled as he poured, seeming to appreciate her challenge to his entrepreneur credibility. ‘I'd proved my point and was ready to move on.'

‘Oh, right.' She lifted her glass and jabbed a little more for the fun of it. ‘You don't just get them to a level of success so you can then sell, make the money and bail before they crash and burn?'

His gaze went rapier sharp. ‘No. If they crash and burn that's because the management that took over was incompetent.'

She smiled wickedly. ‘So it's not that you're dealing in smoke and mirrors? Making something look amazing when really there's very little there. Nothing that has durability.'

‘Well, the tee shirts are still going. The pizza, they took the marketing concepts and made them their own. The buildings are increasing their value—what's the basis for all this doubt?'

‘The fact that you always move on,' she said simply. The guy never stuck at anything for more than a few years, frequently less, which was why the property game suited him—acquire, improve, sell. ‘Isn't it that you don't actually believe in your own products?'

‘No, it's because I have a low boredom threshold.' His eyes glinted with naughty undercurrents. ‘Once something's up and running, I'm no longer interested. It's the challenge of getting it together and out there that I like. And I like to keep my independence.'

She gripped her glass tighter. ‘So you're not interested in
the challenge of continuing growth or developing depth in any of your projects?'

‘No.' That glint flashed even brighter. ‘That's not really my thing.'

There was the subtext. He loved the initial challenge, but was so a no to seeing it grow to something bigger. Just like his relationships with women? Well, that was fine. She already knew there could only be this, right now….

She didn't want a relationship. She was doing well—loving her job, loving her freedom out of the family shadow. She didn't want any slide backwards into neediness and she feared that if she let a guy in for too long, she'd lose her hard-earned independence and confidence. But one night wouldn't be too long.

She realised he was watching her with that intense focus again.

‘So what about you?' His glint became an all-out blaze. ‘Let's get to that killer sofa and you can tell me more about how you handle those rugby stars.'

She led the way back to the lounge. ‘There's not that much to tell. I'm only the PR administrator.'

‘Slash team organiser slash wardrobe mistress slash stadium Girl Friday.'

‘You got me on a good day.' She shrugged it off with a smile. ‘Most of the time it's the usual running around chasing people and paperwork.' She stopped to put her empty glass on the low table in front of the sofa and turned.

He was right behind her. With the quickest movement she'd ever seen he ditched his glass on the table and took the last half step to be within breath-mingling distance.

She swallowed. ‘This probably isn't a good idea.'

‘No, it's a fantastic idea,' he assured her.

She moistened her lips. But it didn't cool them—nothing could stop the temptation bubbling over. Purely sexual.
Blatantly provocative. Honestly, if she didn't have an orgasm soon she was going to go insane. She was halfway there now. Who knew that nymphomania was actually some flu-like virus you could be struck down with in a matter of minutes? Well, now Lena did, because all she could think about was sex—him and her and heat. Touching and skin and tongues and other body parts merging and teasing and satisfying.

‘This can only be the one night,' she blurted.

It had to stay hers to control. It wasn't about letting him do what he wanted. It was what
she
wanted—good age-old fun with an expert. She wanted the fantasy. She'd been so damn good for so damn long. Just a few hours for herself couldn't hurt, could it? Not with Mr Single. Mr Playful. Mr Perfect-for-One-Night.

He was smiling that irresistible smile and she was so mesmerised she didn't move as he lifted a hand and traced her jaw, then her mouth, with his index finger. His eyes tracked his action, intently focused and
promising.
‘Whatever you want.'

His simple charm reinforced her belief that this could be light and easy. His simple touch made it impossible for her to deny herself the incredible pleasure of more.

She met his hot, good-humoured gaze and her long-hidden playfulness broke free. ‘That's right.'

S
HE'D
never known her blood could simmer.

‘Something else, isn't it?' Seth murmured with a gentle shake of his head. ‘The chemistry.'

Lena stood with her legs locked so she stayed upright. It was more than anticipation, it was need—several layers deep. She blanked the raw ache buried in her heart. This was
physical
fulfilment.

‘You're beautiful,' he muttered, tracing her lips again.

She mirrored his action, putting her finger on his lips. ‘No lines.' It wasn't necessary. This could just be what it was. She didn't want false words.

His eyes narrowed but his smile widened. ‘Not lines. Absolute truth. I wanted you the second I saw you laughing in the corridor.'

Pleasure skidded into her. Okay, she'd let him feed her just that line. It was a good one.

She watched him draw nearer. This wasn't going to be an impulsive, unexpected kiss. This time it was going to be premeditated and foreseeable and all of a sudden nerves ate up her anticipation. In the split of a second, she didn't think she could do it. She swallowed, her brain suddenly crammed with thoughts and doubts and confusion. Was this crazy? Could this really be as easy as it seemed?

‘Lena?' He froze as he registered her tension. Then she
saw something like horror on his face. ‘You have done this before, right?'

Sex? Yes. So quickly? No.

She gave a slight nod. ‘But I might have forgotten how,' she mumbled, her blush nothing but embarrassment now.

He took a couple of breaths, his grin rueful. ‘You know, we don't have to go for gold if you don't want to. We can just play for a while and if you say the word, I'll stop.'

She didn't want him to stop but she really appreciated his gentlemanly attitude. ‘No, I want to have a…good time,' she breathed, trying to be blunt but opting for a euphemism in the end. ‘I've been frisky since we kissed and I'm so close but so damn far. But I want to. Really, really want to.'

His breath was sharp drawn then. She felt him release it in a laugh hot across her forehead.

‘Shouldn't be a problem,' he muttered, lips skimming her skin. ‘What do you want me to do?'

‘Everything,' she answered, drinking in his masculinity, tired of repressing her feminine desire for it. From the moment she'd opened her eyes this afternoon and seen him gazing right through her, she'd been aching for him to take her apart.

He gazed down her body and she saw his expression transform from hotly amused to predatory. That was the look she needed—the one where basic drive couldn't be fully hidden beneath suave charm. She wanted the animal in him, because he totally aroused the animal in her. And if it was all animal, there could be no thought.

Her breathing quickened. Her blood quickened.

He smiled, slowly. Then he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. For a second or two he kept it light and gentle, then he seemed to give in to the urge and crushed her. Temptation was riding him as hard as it was her. Thank goodness.

He slid his arms around her, pulling her close against him, controlling where her body touched his. She let him because where he held her was where she wanted to be and she wanted to feel his strength. So she clung, melding, unable to believe the heat. She kissed him back as she had in the corridor. Hot and hungry and offering so much more than her mouth. The wave of delight rose swiftly and she badly wanted to get to the end—to have everything from him this instant. Except it couldn't possibly be over in five seconds and if he kept kissing her like that it was going to be. She broke free and took a step back.

He looked pained. ‘You're saying the word already?'

‘Oh, no,' she gasped. ‘I'm just…breathing.' She wanted it both fast
and
slow. Total fulfilment. She wanted the entire cake and to eat it all herself. She gazed at him, honestly couldn't believe he was this hot and that for tonight he was all hers. ‘I don't want to lose it too quickly.'

‘Too quickly? That's usually something the guy has to worry about.' He chuckled and took hold of her hand. ‘I thought you wanted to come?'

‘I do…but…' Oh, this was so overwhelming.

Laughing, he pulled her back into his arms but cradled more than controlled. She could feel the vibrations of his humour.

‘Tell you what…' His sentence drifted and she felt him laugh again, heard it in his voice when he whispered in her ear, ‘Half an hour before I go below your waistline.'

She jerked—putting her palms on his chest and leaning away to look in his face.
Half an hour?
No, no, no.

‘Oh, it
has
to be half an hour now,' he teased. ‘The look on your face.'

‘What do you mean, half an hour?' Instinctively she spread her fingers wider, enjoying the solid feel and the slam of his heart against her palm. ‘What are you going to
do? Set your timer or something? You think this is paint by numbers?'

‘It'll slow us down—' he leaned close again, breathing close to her skin ‘—just enough to send you insane.'

‘I already am.' Shivers of wickedness trammelled down her spine. Pure delight at his playfulness…but half an hour did seem like twenty-nine minutes too long.

He tilted her face up and looked devilishly into her eyes. ‘This is about what you wanted, right? And if you want to have a good time, you have to leave yourself in my hands.'

His hands were good. They went lower, stroking down her back, chasing the shivers and electrifying her skin. Skilful fingers stroked round her waist, sliding upwards to smooth over her breasts and brush against her nipples.

She nearly came then and there, her nerves so tight she compressed her muscles hard to try to control the escalating drive.

‘Oh,' she moaned. Who really was in charge here? And what did it matter? ‘You know, fast will be fine,' she breathed. ‘I don't know what I was thinking.' She framed his face with her hands, laughing more than a little desperately. ‘Just ignore everything I said and let's get on with it.'

She rocked against him, unable to stop need driving her now. There was nothing,
nothing,
but fire between them.

‘Never.' The predatory look sharpened to pure masculine pleasure. ‘Half an hour, Lena. Let's see how you cope.'

The smile she saw just before he kissed her told her she was in glorious trouble. Sure enough, less than thirty seconds later she wasn't coping at all well. His hands stroked and teased—caressing light and then firm. He kissed sweet, then dirty. Every second he pulled her closer and closer still, his hands tickling the back of her neck, tracing down her spine, sliding round her waist to move up to the curve of her breasts. Wildly she moved against him, desperate to feel his
touch all over—especially inside. Surely it was half an hour now? It felt as if it had been for ever.

Through dazed eyes she saw his were sharply focused, burning and determined. His fingers flicked, undoing the first few buttons on her dress, pushing aside the silky fabric. He bent her back, holding her weight easily with one arm while he kissed his way across and seared her skin. She clung to his waist, barely able to stay standing.

His hands wandered into the open dress, cupping her breasts. He kissed her neck, her collarbone and lower, stealing across her curves; through the lace bra she felt his tongue, the hunger of his hot, wet mouth. Her eyes closed as he muttered his appreciation, and told her what he wanted to do in about twenty minutes or so. He relished her as much as she did him and she liked it. Her breathing deepened as her skin tingled. Her nipples were suddenly so sensitive and with every stroke of his tongue across them they sent teasing rhythmic surges to her womb. Those deep, secret muscles clamped in response, winding higher, hotter. Her fingers curled into his shirt as the sensation sharpened. Her whole body contracted beneath his simple, relentless attention.

‘Oh, no.' She was so taut she couldn't even scream; it was a squeak.

‘Just let it happen,' he murmured, easily supporting her when in the instant of ecstasy her strength failed.

She'd never had an orgasm this way, this easily, this sweet and savage. She panted, quickly trying to recover some kind of control, but she soon discovered that that hit of pleasure was merely a precursor. Now her body was frantic for more. She was desperate to be naked. Desperate to be possessed. She ground her pelvis hard against his, wanting to force an end to the void there.

She was so damn hungry to have him, to touch him. Her
eyes shot open. Of course. There was nothing to stop her touching
him
now. A resurgence of energy poured through her and excitement flared. She spread her hands wide on his arms, then dropped to his waist, slipping underneath the shirt to discover the definition of his body. Eye-poppingly sharp definition.

‘What are you doing?' he growled.

She smiled slowly, enjoying the power surge as she read the heat in his expression. ‘It's only half an hour before
you
get below the waistline.
I
can access any area any time I want.' And she was quite happy to torment him, given that was exactly what he was doing to her.

She chuckled as she moved, her hands zeroing in on the target. He might be happy to skirt around the danger zone, but she was going straight for the kill, unfastening his trousers. He didn't stop her but his molten eyes sizzled. She drowned in his huge dark pupils, seeing herself in them—her desire reflected.

She pushed forward, taking her weight again. ‘What's the matter?' she asked softly. ‘You're not sure you can cope?'

She lifted his shirt, he raised his arms and she stripped it from him, totally focused on every inch of skin as it was revealed. She felt liberated, thinking about nothing but the body before her.

‘You like?' He sounded rusty.

‘Yeah, I told you earlier,' she answered. ‘It's not only men who like to look.' She ran a feather-light fingertip across his shoulders, felt the faintest quiver beneath her touch. ‘You have an amazing body.'

He really did. Incredibly fit—he clearly worked out a lot. His muscles were even more sharply defined than the rugby boys', which meant he had to put some serious hours into the gym. ‘You've got what I want.' His body was everything she wanted. Maintaining eye contact, she moved her hand
south into total danger territory. She gulped. ‘Maybe
more
than what I want.'

His muscles bunched; she could feel him holding his breath, too.

‘You might want to be careful,' he muttered.

She sent him a coy look from beneath her lashes, while her hand stroked—anything
but
coy. Inside she smiled giddily. ‘You said half an hour.'

He grinned despite his gritted teeth. He even managed to talk through them. ‘Yeah, and then you're going to be in such trouble.'

She leaned forward. ‘Oh, I know that now.' She pressed her open mouth on his hot neck.

His hands grasped her shoulders so hard she was forced to look back up at him. As soon as she did he swooped. His tongue invaded her mouth in a way that left her in no doubt as to what that other magnificent part of him was going to do the second his inner timer went off. She went boneless against him, welcoming his plundering assault. She couldn't wait. Her hands swept up and down his hot torso, pausing to push the trousers and boxers from his hips so she could feel his tight butt. She moaned, pulling him against her.

She let go of every inhibition, every doubt, every thought or care in the world and just
felt.
She took total pleasure in touching him and in his touch. Absolute freedom from emotional complications—from expectations—there were none.

‘Ding, ding, ding.' He moved fast, stealing the next beat of her heart and the initiative. She was on the floor before she could gasp, while he was above her already. He was kneeling, with his hands on either side of her, and his eyes met hers, flashing the naughtiest smile she'd ever seen.

He lifted one hand and toyed with the hem of her dress. ‘Time's up.'

She pressed her knees hard together—to stop herself from splaying her legs wide. But he knew because the wickedness in his expression sent the mercury soaring. And it seemed he liked a game as much as she.

‘You really think you can hold out?' he asked slyly.

‘No.' She parted her legs. This was too good to waste more time waiting for.

‘Mine to do with as I please.' He chuckled—satisfied—and undid the rest of the buttons with teasing, cavalier fingers.

‘No,' she argued huskily, writhing under his gentle caresses. ‘You're mine to please me.'

He inclined his head. ‘Same thing.' He spread her dress, bent and kissed her, his hands working first to remove her bra and then skimming up her thighs to her knickers. Slowly, too damn slowly, he tugged them down.

Seth watched her expression as he bared her body. Her eyes were luminous—pale green glittering in the thinnest of rings around huge black pupils. Her lips cherry red from desire, not lipstick. Satisfaction jolted at how urgent her need was. She intended to ravish him. His erection strained harder. He didn't think he'd ever met a woman so hungry. Deeply, beautifully hungry for pleasure. From him.

Her gaze devoured his body. Her hands stroked, she propped up on her elbows and licked his nipple, her tongue lashing stronger than he expected. The response in his blood was stronger than he expected, too. He burned, unsure he could stand the pressure of this, the hottest moment of his life. He pushed her back and she moaned when he ran his tongue from her navel to her breast. Yeah, it was his turn to taste.

Seth was used to women trying to impress him. He knew it was because of his bank balance more than anything, but women fluttered their lashes and pulled their best moves.
And he appreciated it, he did. But the woman writhing beneath him now was in no way trying to impress. She was almost out of it with pleasure, her eyes blind with passion.