BTW: I Love You (Mills & Boon M&B) (One Hot Fling - Book 1) (8 page)

Until now.

‘It’s a matter of biology,’ she continued. ‘And … um … anatomy,’ she stuttered, so red now she was practically glowing. ‘We just don’t …’ She trailed off, flicking another wary glance at his crotch. ‘Fit. Very well.’

He gave a humourless laugh. A little stunned by the evidence of how inexperienced she was. He’d liked her innocence yesterday, because it had made him feel superior and
helped to repair his battered ego. He didn’t feel so good about it now.

Had he seriously accused her of sleeping with Phil? He’d be astonished if she’d slept with more than a couple of guys in her whole life. That they hadn’t delivered in the sack went without saying—or why would she be so clueless about sex?

He wondered if the childhood trauma she’d described had anything to do with her inexperience, then dismissed the thought. No need to go there.

He’d got her to talk about the incident to remove any barriers to them sleeping together again. The swell of anger and empathy when she’d recounted her father’s sickening behaviour wasn’t significant. He didn’t want to think about that traumatised little girl or feel bad for her.

‘Maddy.’ He settled his hand on her nape, felt the punch of her pulse beneath his thumb and tried to come up with a way to explain the situation without sounding condescending. ‘I’m not a small guy; I know that. But, believe me, we’ll fit together fine.’

‘How do you …?’

He pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. ‘I was rough. I didn’t give you time to adjust. That’s why it was so uncomfortable.’ He dropped his hand, her widening eyes crucifying him.

‘But I don’t …’ she began.

‘I’ll be careful this time.’

‘But what if …’

‘Maddy—’ he cut her off, skimming soft flesh as his hand cruised under her T-shirt ‘—I can do better, I swear.’ He pulled her flush against him, cradling the painful bulge in his jeans against her stomach and touched his lips to her forehead. ‘Will you trust me?’

He almost added that he knew what he was doing, but stopped himself. Seeing her hesitate, seeing the wary confusion
in her eyes, he wasn’t so sure he did know what he was doing. When had he ever wanted a woman with this much intensity?

He forced the thought away.

She was sweet, sexy and vulnerable in a way he’d never encountered before. But the urgency, the driving need to have her again was only because, for the first time in a long time, he had something to prove.

Maddy flattened her palms against Rye’s chest, felt the rapid ticks of his heartbeat matching her own and couldn’t bring herself to say no.

No man had ever looked at her with such need before. As if they’d die from wanting her. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his pupils had dilated to turn the vivid blue black with desire, and feel the outline of the disturbingly large erection.

‘All right, if you’re sure it’ll be okay?’

He chuckled, the deep throaty sound sending a ripple of awareness down her spine. ‘It’ll be more than okay.’

His hands moved lower—but, when he flipped open the button on her jeans, she grabbed his wrist. ‘Wait. We can’t do it here. In Phil’s office? In broad daylight?’

He smiled. ‘Sure we can.’

‘But …’ Before the objection could take shape, he silenced the protest, covering her lips with his. Her head bumped against the door, the slight click of the lock echoing like a mission bell.

His tongue probed, seeking, learning the contours of her mouth. Then he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. The tiny nip stung as he smiled at her.

‘No one can see in unless they have binoculars. And Phil’s not going to disturb us if he wants to keep his job.’

He bent to drag off her jeans and knickers, not waiting for a reply.

She stepped out of the garments in a daze of longing, the giddy rush of forbidden pleasure exciting her even more. When had she ever done anything so impulsive?

But, as he led her to the sofa, his hand clasped around hers, she felt her unfettered breasts sway under the unhooked bra, felt the hem of her T-shirt brush her naked thighs and the rush of air against her exposed sex—and stopped.

He looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow lifting a fraction.

‘Why am I practically naked and you’re fully clothed?’ she said.

His grin widened as he nodded. ‘Let’s remedy the situation.’ Crossing his arms, he grasped the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it over his head.

She stared at the play of muscles across his lean belly, then feasted on the sight of his beautifully sculpted chest. Wisps of hair grew around flat nipples, then tapered to a point that disappeared beneath his jeans.

Her tongue flicked out to moisten parched lips as he kicked off his loafers, untied his belt with practised efficiency and then propped himself on the arm of the sofa to strip off his jeans and boxer shorts. The mammoth erection sprung out from the nest of dark hair at his groin and she gaped.

She’d hoped he wouldn’t be as big. No such luck.

She heard the rough chuckle and looked up into hungry, heavy-lidded eyes glittering with amusement. ‘Stop worrying,’ he murmured as he took her hand, tugged her towards him.

‘Easy for you to say,’ she replied as the ridge of flesh touched her belly like a hot iron, sending shockwaves eddying to her core.

He laughed, the sound rich and full. ‘Let’s get you naked so we can get to the good bit.’

Her T-shirt and bra followed his clothes to the floor, leaving her quivering with a heady combination of anticipation and dread.

‘There now, isn’t that better?’ he said, the teasing glint still very much in evidence as one callused palm cupped her breast.

She sighed as he played with the rigid peak, ignoring the evidence of his arousal, still hot against her hip.

Then he dipped his head and circled the raw nerves with his tongue. She moaned, her fingers sinking into the soft waves of his hair as she luxuriated in the rough strokes of his tongue. Fire spiralled down, releasing slick juices as she trembled. Maybe a little discomfort was a small price to pay for this.

He lifted his head and she sucked in an unsteady breath as cooler air brushed her wet, fevered skin. Gripping her shoulders with firm hands, he turned her round until she felt the hot flesh butt against her bottom. He edged her forward, bending her over the sofa.

She quaked as the brutal erection touched the swollen folds of her sex. Feeling too exposed, too vulnerable, she tried to rise.

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he whispered, his hands stroking her back, cradling her buttocks as he gentled her. ‘I can control the penetration better in this position.’ Then he drew his fingers through the curls at her centre, finding the hard nub. A strangled cry escaped as her body arched against the exquisite torture.

His fingers continued to play, building the waves of ecstasy as she listened to the muffled sounds of him sheathing himself. She started, pulled out of the reverie as the head of his penis probed.

She groaned, the guttural sound a plea as he sank into her in one long, slow, relentless thrust. She panted, ecstasy receding
to be replaced by a fullness, a stretched feeling more than she could bear. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, to tell him it was too much.

But the protest died in her throat as his knowing fingers caressed her again. He touched, stroked, teased, holding still inside her, until the shocking pleasure made her buck, lodging him to the hilt.

She sobbed as he began to move. The short careful thrusts, getting longer, harder, more demanding as the sure, relentless swell of pleasure built. She cried out as the waves of ecstasy rushed up and rolled over her, then receded, only to build again without pause, without reason. He grasped her hips, establishing a relentless rhythm.

She soared upwards, the wave swelling and crashing like a tsunami now, tumbling her over and thundering down to hurl her into oblivion in one mindless rush of pure rapture.

‘I
THINK
I like immersion therapy.’ Maddy grinned as the hair of Rye’s chest tickled her cheek, his answering chuckle rumbling against her ear. They lay together on Phil’s sofa, gloriously naked, Rye’s long legs tangling with hers. She’d never felt more wanton or more wonderful in her life.

Who knew sex could be that spectacular?

His arm tightened across her shoulders as he peered down into her face. ‘So I take it there were no ill effects this time?’

‘Not one,’ she replied enthusiastically. She stretched, the slight discomfort between her thighs nothing compared to the triumphant afterglow. The flush of contentment washed over her as she recalled how he’d eased into her so carefully and brought her to a stunning …

She bolted upright. ‘Oh, my God.’

She stared in amazement at their surroundings. Phil’s desk, piled high with papers, the shelves full of bulging file folders, the dying pot plant, even the deluxe sofa that they were now lounging on together, completely nude.

‘Is something wrong?’ Rye asked calmly.

‘We just did it in Phil’s office!’

He sent her an amused frown. ‘I realise that.’

‘And you’re my boss …’ She hesitated, briefly distracted by the glorious memory of him buried deep inside her.

He slung one arm behind his head, skimmed his palm down her back to rest on her buttock. ‘Very observant,’ he said, amusement lightening his voice.

‘Rye, don’t you see the significance? I’m cured.’

‘Cured of what?’

She placed her hand on her stomach. ‘I don’t feel nauseous, or even weird about it. I feel wonderful.’

‘Good,’ he said, caressing her bottom. ‘But what is it you don’t feel weird about?’

‘What I saw my father doing to his secretary. It doesn’t matter any more. I don’t care.’ She settled back down, loving the feel of his chest hair abraiding sensitive nipples, and kissed him on the jaw. ‘Rye, you cured me.’ She beamed at him, delighting in the feeling of recklessness, of freedom.

He laughed, stroking her rump. ‘Glad to be of service.’

Maddy laughed at his smug tone. Then shivered.

Rye took her shoulders and lifted her off him. ‘Come on.’ He sat up and scooped her T-shirt off the floor. ‘As much as I enjoy ogling your naked body,’ he said, his eyes slipping suggestively to her breasts as he handed her the T-shirt, ‘it’s getting chilly in here.’

She whipped the garment over her head, pushing the sudden feeling of disappointment to one side.

This was finally it, then. Her wanton fling was well and truly over. They’d done the wild thing until they’d got it right. But, now they had, there wasn’t anything else to explore.

They got dressed in companionable silence but, as Maddy glimpsed Rye’s tight, muscular butt disappearing behind cotton boxers, she couldn’t help letting out a sigh.

Why did Mr Wrong have to be such a stud muffin?

It was very obvious from Rye’s expertise with women, his unassailable self-confidence in bed and the dominating
arrogance that had allowed him to march into the café and demand she sleep with him again, that she was just one in a very long line of conquests. He’d been thoughtful when she’d almost thrown up in front of him, and surprisingly sensitive while coaxing the truth about her aversion to sleeping with her boss out of her. But she wasn’t about to kid herself. In a day or two he would have moved on to someone else.

She pushed away the little pang of regret. And the knowledge that it would take her a great deal longer to forget him.

She firmed her lips and retied her ponytail, making herself look away as he tugged his T-shirt over his head and covered up that magnificent chest.

Don’t get sentimental, silly. This is your endorphins talking.

Of course she wouldn’t forget him as easily. Because no man had ever excited her, or made her feel the way he did in bed. But all the qualities that made him so great in bed also made him all wrong for her in every other way.

Sitting on the sofa, she put on her trainers.

She had never been the sentimental type. And she knew, from witnessing the agony of her parents’ marriage for years, that passion didn’t last. You needed compatibility and companionship and something tangible in common to base a real relationship on. Great sex, even spectacular sex, wasn’t enough. However drop dead gorgeous Ryan King might be, and however accomplished in the sack, she knew virtually nothing about him, and what she did know suggested he wasn’t the guy for her.

‘What are you thinking?’

She glanced round to see Rye sitting beside her, his injured leg stretched out in front of him.

‘Nothing,’ she replied, not about to relay her thoughts.

A casual fling was a casual fling and it was a little lowering
to realise that she hadn’t quite been able to accept it at face value, even though she knew she should.

He laid a hand on her knee, rubbed gently. ‘Are you sure?’

She sent him a rueful smile—for a sex machine, the man could be quite sensitive. ‘Positive.’ She covered his hand with hers.

He looked down at their joined hands and she felt him stiffen almost imperceptibly.

She lifted her hand, knowing she’d crossed some invisible barrier without meaning to.

He looked away but, just as she felt a prickle of unease, he spoke. ‘You shouldn’t let what your parents did matter,’ he said, his voice distant but sincere.

His eyes met hers and for one brief moment she thought she saw a pain so raw and so all-consuming it took her breath away.

‘They can screw you up,’ he said, the tone dull and flat, the flash of pain gone as if it had never been. ‘But only if you let them.’

‘I see,’ she replied. But she didn’t see, not really. And suddenly she wanted to. Maybe this was only a casual fling, but he’d probed into her past this morning; why shouldn’t she probe his? ‘What were
your
parents like?’

‘Mine?’ His eyes widened. ‘Who knows?’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘I hardly remember them. They died when I was twelve.’

‘Oh, Rye, I’m so sorry.’ Sympathy assailed her. ‘That must have been terrible.’ Her own parents had been selfish and self-absorbed but, whatever their shortcomings, it would have been harder to be without them. ‘Did you have brothers or sisters?’

‘No. My grandfather took me in. That’s how I ended up in Cornwall at Trewan Manor.’

‘Where did you live before that?’ she asked, unable to control her curiosity at her first insight into his life.

‘All over. Hawaii. California. Cozumel for a while.’

So that explained the odd American word or phrase, the lazy cadence of his speech.

‘My parents didn’t do conventional,’ he said conversationally, slipping on his loafers. ‘We lived out of a camper van and followed the surf. Dad called us the three spirits.’ His eyes had gone dark with memory. ‘It was a stupid joke, but it made her laugh every time he said it.’

Maddy’s heart pounded. He sounded so matter-of-fact. So detached. But why had he lied, saying he barely remembered his parents when it was obvious the loss still hurt?

She touched her hand to his back. ‘You still miss them?’

‘What?’ The shadow cleared from his eyes as he twisted round, dislodging her hand. ‘Hardly. They died nearly twenty years ago.’ He pushed himself up, steadied himself on his injured leg. ‘Believe me, I’m not that sentimental.’

He said the word as if it were offensive.

‘Let’s go.’ Offering her his hand, he hauled her up. ‘Before Phil starts banging on the door.’

As he escorted her out of Phil’s office, his face carefully blank, it occurred to Maddy that she had a hundred and one questions she wanted to ask him. How had his parents died? Had his grandfather filled the gap? And what had it felt like to be cast adrift in Cornwall, in that austere, forbidding house on the cliff after a warm, loving childhood spent with parents who even she could tell from those two brief sentences had adored him and adored each other?

Was it harder to have what she’d always dreamed of—a warm, loving home and parents who cared about you—and then have it torn away, than never to have it at all?

‘Maddy, you’re not doing that thinking thing again, are
you?’ he said lightly, his hand settling on the small of her back as they walked down the corridor towards the café.

She sent him a weak smile. ‘I’m just wondering how I’m going to look Phil in the eye,’ she said, knowing she couldn’t ask any of the questions buzzing in her head. She had no right to ask them. And she doubted he would answer them anyway.

‘We’ll have to come up with a convincing story about what we’ve been doing all this time,’ she added. ‘Or he’s never going to let me forget it.’

‘Phil will have figured it out. And, anyway, it’s not a secret.’

The note of arrogance, of entitlement, reminded her he was still the boss.

‘I’d rather he didn’t know, though. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.’

‘No, you won’t. If he hasn’t guessed already, I’ll tell him.’

She stopped to stare at him. ‘But you can’t.’

‘Why can’t I?’

‘Because I work here.’ Was he really that dense?

‘So?’ He shrugged. ‘You’re entitled to a sex life.’

‘Even so …’ She scrambled for another reason. She needed to keep their fling private. However casual it had been for Rye, it hadn’t been quite as casual for her. She intended to work on that. But she couldn’t bear it if they became the subject of kitchen gossip. ‘I don’t want Phil to know.’

She took a careful breath, but came up short when he took hold of her arm.

‘Maddy,’ he said curtly, ‘don’t tell me you’re under the impression this is over?’

‘But …’ She saw the muscle twitch in his jaw, which she already knew signalled his arousal. And, just like that, her thigh muscles melted and the still tender spot between her legs began to throb. ‘But why would you want to do it with
me
again?’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to claw them back and bury them in a very deep hole.

He’d taken her to nirvana, more than once. But she wasn’t about to delude herself that she’d done the same for him. She wasn’t that good at sex and she knew it. Still, she wished she hadn’t told him as much. It made her sound needy and pathetic.

She winced. ‘Could you pretend you didn’t hear that?’ she said, hideously humiliated.

He shook his head slowly, studying her with what, she had an awful feeling, might be pity.

She waited. So mortified she wanted to die on the spot. But, instead of laughing at her, or saying something condescending, his eyes narrowed and, for an insane moment, she thought she saw a flash of fury.

Rye curled his fingers into a fist. What he’d like to do right now was hunt down the bastards who had destroyed Maddy’s confidence and throttle them on the spot. He shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

She was actually serious. He could see it in her face, and the flush of embarrassment lighting up her cheeks. She had no idea she’d blown him away. He wanted to tell her that she was the most refreshing, the most artlessly sexy and seductive woman he’d ever encountered, but how could he do that and not make this sound like more than it was?

Something he couldn’t afford to do.

Because he’d already made a mess of this. He was usually so clear with women about what he wanted out of a relationship. And what he didn’t. He set boundaries and he never crossed them. No point in confusing things and setting yourself up for an ugly scene further down the line. But he’d crossed those boundaries with Maddy. In fact, he’d never even set them. Because he’d been distracted by his own needs.

After their little heart-to-heart in Phil’s office, when he’d blurted out that rubbish about his parents, he’d known he needed to start setting those boundaries now. And make it clear he wasn’t comfortable with that level of intimacy.

But she was looking at him now, her eyes shadowed with embarassment. As if she couldn’t believe he really wanted to sleep with her again. And he didn’t have a clue how to say what he had to without knocking her confidence even more.

‘Maddy.’ He cupped her cheek, felt the instinctive tremor of response and knew he wasn’t finished with her. Not by a long shot. But he had a tightrope to walk now. And he was doing it blindfolded. ‘I thought you enjoyed yourself this time?’

Those luminous green eyes widened even more. ‘I did. You know I did.’

‘Then what’s the problem with us enjoying more of the same?’

He settled his hand on her shoulder, skimmed his thumb across her collarbone and felt the flutter of her pulse.

‘But …’

‘I’m not looking for anything serious,’ he said casually, but watched her reaction like a hawk.

She seemed more confused than upset by the suggestion. ‘I know that,’ she said, surprising him a little.

‘I’m going to be in Cornwall for another month or so,’ he added, careful not to imply that he would be around indefinitely.

The truth was he had no concrete plans to return to London. He’d left the company in capable hands and had been content to forget about it while living like a recluse in his grandfather’s house. One of the things he’d resolutely refused to think about was his future, because he’d been so busy dwelling on his past. Apart from the fact that his behaviour now seemed remarkably boring and self-indulgent, it occurred to him that
if he was going to indulge himself with Maddy, he needed to put an end date into the equation.

‘I still have some recuperation to do but, once winter sets in, I’ll be returning to London.’ For the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t make his stomach tighten with dread. ‘But until then, I don’t see why we can’t continue to enjoy ourselves.’

‘I don’t …’ She stopped, clearly lost for words.

‘We could give each other a great deal of pleasure in that time. Why deny ourselves when there’s no need?’

A small line of concentration formed on her brow. He felt the pulse of heat in his crotch. Damn, she really was adorable. And completely unique. When was the last time he’d had to put this much effort into getting a woman into his bed?

‘What do you say to a no-strings affair? We spend a few weeks exploiting the great sexual chemistry between us and then go our separate ways. And nobody gets hurt.’