Mr. Insatiable (6 page)

Chapter

5

Kit looked up at the clock and she followed his gaze. It was nearly two AM. His deep blue eyes fixed back on her.

“Bed,” he said firmly.

Enya was speechless and couldn’t have protested if her life had depended on it. She let him take the icepack off her ankle and return it to the barman, and then he came back and lifted her, somewhat unsteadily, carrying her out of the bar and across to the lift.

“Room number?” he asked.

“320.”

He pressed the button, missing it twice, and she giggled while they waited impatiently for it to descend. He went inside and pressed her floor number before stepping back to let the doors close.

She put her arms around his neck as the lift ascended, meeting his gaze. She wondered whether he’d kiss her, but he just studied her, his eyes hot. Her head spun, and it wasn’t only from the whisky. They couldn’t do this, could they? They might regret it in the morning. She might disappoint him, whatever he said. But his words rang in her ears.
Honey, if I can’t get you to come, I don’t think anyone can
.

The lift dinged and the doors opened, and he walked along the corridor until they reached her room. She fumbled for her passkey in the small handbag looped around her wrist and fitted it into the slot, pressing the handle as he pushed the door open. Automatically, she took out her lip balm as well and twisted it up to apply a slick to her lips. It was habit–she did it a hundred times a day, but Kit’s gaze fell on her mouth and she froze. “What?”

He laughed, letting the door shut behind him, and moved his hands from under her legs so they slid to the ground.

“Nothing.” He reached over and flicked the switch so the light came on above the bed. “Jeez, it’s warm in here.”

“I think I turned the thermostat up a bit high.” She threw her shoes and handbag on the floor and tried putting her weight on her other leg, wincing as pain shot through her ankle. He put his hands on her hips and turned her so her back was against the wall.

Her heart pounded, but she made herself look up at him calmly. He was devastatingly handsome. How would she feel if he touched her?

He studied her for a moment. Without her shoes, she was a lot shorter than he was, and she had to look up to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were hot, but still he hesitated, and she realized he was having doubts.

“Perhaps I should go,” he said.

Disappointment flooded through her. She desperately wanted him to stay. But she nodded.

He didn’t move, but he did try again. “It’s probably not a good idea if I stay.”

She shook her head, but she knew her eyes must be pleading for him not to go. She opened her mouth to ask him to stay, but the words wouldn’t come.

What if he said no? How could she bear it?

Instead, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and in response, he gave her an exasperated look.

“You’re going to have to tell me to go,” he said huskily. “Tell me you want me to go.”

Her heart pounded–he wanted to stay. Courage flooded through her, and she met his gaze and shook her head.

He stepped closer to her and cupped her face. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” He bent his head and let his lips brush hers, adding softly, “Tell me you don’t want me inside you.”

Desire threaded through her veins, hot and neat as the whisky, and she gave in and threw her arms around his neck, lifting her lips to his.

He slid his arms around her and kissed her deeply, pushing her up to the wall, pressing his hard, masculine body against hers. He was so gorgeous, and so incredibly sexy, Enya thought she might faint. She gave a sigh deep in her throat, and he groaned in response, moving his hands to her butt and pulling her tight against him. Once again, she felt the long, hard length of his erection press into her soft flesh, and she gasped as he moved his hips, arousing her with gentle pressure.

He really wanted to have sex with her. The realization hit her so hard, she nearly squealed out loud. Unbuttoning his jacket, she pushed it off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor before bringing his arms back around her. She pushed him back, though, needing to see him in the white shirt and silky grey vest.

“Oh my God you’re so sexy,” she whispered. “I’d ask you to keep it on, but if I only get one go at this, I want you naked.”

He laughed and flicked open the buttons on the vest before letting it fall on top of his jacket. She pulled his bow tie, and when it unraveled, slid it out from under his collar, and that joined the growing heap of clothes.

Then she began undoing his shirt buttons. He nuzzled her ear as she worked her way up, and her heart hammered when his lips grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, his tongue tasting her as her fingers brushed his warm skin. When she reached his tight top button, he had to help her out, and then the shirt slid down his back and fell to the floor.

Enya rested her hands on his chest, catching her breath at the sight of his defined muscles and powerful arms. “Wow,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “You sound surprised. You’ve seen me without a shirt before.”

“Yes, but I’ve never
looked
, you know? I wouldn’t let myself look too closely–it’s not what you do to friends.”

“And now?” He rested his hands on her hips and moved closer to brush his lips over hers.

She ran her fingers up his ribs and then, ever so lightly, over his nipples, looking up at him.

He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. “No fair.” He pulled her toward him. “My turn.”

He investigated how her wrap was attached to the bodice of her dress. “It’s not rocket science,” she said, wobbling on one leg and starting to laugh as he struggled to unhook it at the back.

“Female clothes puzzle me.” Eventually he undid it and released the wrap. “They’re all straps, poppers and hooks–very alien. Guys have buttons and zips. They’re a lot simpler.”

“That’s because men’s brains are a lot simpler.”

“True.” He threw the wrap onto the floor. “And I’ve had a few whiskies–that doesn’t help.”

She held her breath as he lowered his gaze to her breasts, which were squeezed together in the tight bodice of the blue satin dress. She could almost feel the heat from his eyes cutting through the dress like lasers. “For God’s sake, help me get it off. I want to feel your hands on me.”

He gave her a pained look before she turned around with a hop and offered him her zipper, leaning against the wall to keep her balance. He sighed. “I wanted this to be nice and slow, but you’re not making it easy.”

“I don’t want it nice and slow,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’m desperate for you, Kit.”

“Any more talk like that, and it’ll be over before it’s started.” He pressed his hips against her butt as he undid her zip. She gasped at the hardness of his erection, pushing back and making him grunt. He lowered the zip to the bottom and then rested his hands on her shoulders.

This was almost the last point she could stop, she realized. Any further, and she’d be naked in his arms. She rested her hands on top of his, suddenly hesitant, her body tensing. Was this what she wanted? What if it wasn’t any different with him? If he couldn’t help her relax? What if she had to fake an orgasm with him so he didn’t feel bad? Would he be able to tell?

He kissed her shoulder. Then her neck, planting soft, light kisses up to her ear. Removing his hands from beneath hers, he investigated the clips holding up the last remnants of her hairstyle and gradually removed them, one by one, tossing them onto the pile of clothes.

“You like my hair, don’t you?” she said, touched by the gentleness of his hands.

“I do.” He removed the final clip and let her hair tumble around his fingers, spreading the curls around her shoulders. “It’s like fire. And it always smells nice.”

She smiled. “When have you ever smelled my hair?”

“I do it every time I kiss you on the top of your head. Have you never noticed?”

She laughed. “No.”

He brushed his fingers down her arms as he nuzzled her ear again. “I admire you in a hundred different ways every day, Enya O’Donnell, my naive little Celt. You think today is the first day I’ve noticed how sexy you are?” He brought his hands back up to rest on her shoulders.

She tingled all over. He thought she was sexy. Her emotions whirled with a strange mixture of old familiarity and new sensuality–she knew him so well, and yet, at that moment, she didn’t know him at all, and it made her tense.

He kissed her hair. “Do you remember the time you came to our house wearing that bright green bikini? You were seventeen, I think.”

She smiled at the memory. “Yes. You were sitting on the deck, looking cool with your shades on. You refused to go swimming with me.”

“That’s because I had such an incredible hard-on, I couldn’t get up for about half an hour.”

She started to laugh. “I did
not
know that.”

“Oh... I have plenty of those sorts of stories.”

She knew what he was doing–reminding her of their long past, that they’d been friends for what seemed like forever. She loved him, trusted him implicitly. And with that thought, the last of her mental barriers fell away.

She let him push the dress off her shoulders, and it slipped to the floor in a rustle of satin.

Kit caught his breath, resting his hands on her hips as he kissed her shoulder. She knew he was looking at her breasts, only partially encased in the half-cups of white lace. He traced the top of her panties around to her stomach and then slid his hands slowly up her ribcage to cup her breasts, warm on her skin. He brushed her nipples through the lace with his thumbs, and her heart pounded.

He ran his fingers underneath her straps over her shoulder and down to her back, before pushing the clips of her bra together. The elastic eased, and she dropped her arms so he could slide the garment off her and let it drop to the floor. Then he turned her to face him.

Trying to quell the urge to cover herself up, she tucked her hands beneath her butt, leaning back against the wall, basking in his warm perusal. Her breasts were probably her best feature, apart from her hair, and she glowed inside at the obvious admiration on his face.

“Fucking hell,” he said, confirming her thoughts. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.”

He raised his gaze to hers and laughed. “You’re welcome.” He kissed her then, deeply, his tongue playing with hers as he cupped her breasts in his warm hands. Raising his head, he said huskily, “Tell me what you like, Enya.”

Enya, not Celt. Their relationship had shifted subtly, finally maturing in the dull light of the hotel room that was so warm she saw moisture glistening in the hollow of his throat. They weren’t kids any longer, fumbling teenagers more intent on the act than with whom they were doing it. They were adults, man and woman, wanting to take pleasure in each other’s bodies and give it in equal measure. He’d said he wanted to help her, and knowing him, she was aware that would be true, but he wasn’t completely selfless. He wanted her–it was obvious in the way he looked at her, in how he couldn’t seem to stop touching her. And in the impressive bulge in his pants, too.

“I don’t think I need to explain,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms as he kissed her neck and stroked her breasts. “You seem to know...oh...exactly what I like.”

“I want you to tell me how you like to be touched.” He lifted his head to watch her, circling his fingers over her nipples and watching her reaction. “Softly, like this?” He brushed the tips with his thumbs. “Or firmly, like this?” He rolled her nipples between his fingers.

She gasped and tipped her head back on the wall, pushing her breasts into his hands. “Oh God, yes.”

He grunted in approval and bent to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking the tip with his tongue before transferring to the other one. Enya slid her hands into his hair and tightened her fingers, overwhelmed with sensation. “Kit...oh...”

He straightened to kiss her again, continuing to play with her now wet and sensitive nipples, and a deep ache grew between her thighs. As if he’d read her thoughts, he slid his hands to the top of her panties and then pushed them down her legs, bending to help ease them over her injured ankle, then standing to lift her slightly for her to flick them away.

“Whoa,” he said, running his gaze down her. “The carpet
does
match the drapes.”

She glanced at her red pubic hair and followed it with an exasperated look, and he chuckled. He leaned his left forearm on the wall above her head and fixed her with his gaze. Giving her a sexy smile, he traced light fingers along her lower stomach, making it quiver.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he said huskily, brushing her pubic hair. He kissed her and then raised his head again. “Trust me?” His deep blue eyes were gentle.

Enya licked her lips then nodded.

Watching her, he moved his fingers down into her hot centre. They slid easily into her warm flesh, and she knew she must be slippery with desire.

She gasped. Kit’s eyes–those eyes she knew so well–weren’t sparkling with humor or teasing now, they were fiery hot, filled with lust. He slid his fingers lower, and then lower still, moving them inside her, and she finally closed her eyes as he brought them back up, slick with her moisture, to begin caressing her.