One Hot Winter's Night (20 page)

It wasn’t long before she felt the tightening of her internal muscles. Could she really do this with him watching? He must have sensed how close she was, because his knees touched hers, widening her legs slightly. She could almost feel his hot gaze on her, warming her. But it was too late to stop. Everything tightened in a rush, and she cried out at the strong pulsing of her muscles, pressing her hand tightly to herself, giving soft sighs as the orgasm rolled over her, sweeping her up in its wake.

Chapter 25

Heath sighed and watched Cat float gently back to earth. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing he’d ever done, watching her touch herself, listening to her soft sighs fill the room. She stretched and then pushed herself upright. He studied her, resting his forehead on his hand again. He gave a little shake of his head. She was amazing. He was the luckiest man alive.

Laughing, she got up and leaned over him.

“What?” he growled.

“I love that look. That sulky, ‘I thought I’d got my own way but it turns out I haven’t’ look.”

He gave a short laugh. “That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, to sit there and watch you and not touch you.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “Serves you right.” She glanced down. “Wow,
and
you’ve managed to keep your hands off yourself.”

“You have no idea.” He was hot and frustrated. “My self-control deserves a medal.”

Cat kissed him and then pulled him out of the chair and onto the bed with her. She pushed him back onto the pillows. He looked up at her, amused. He could tell she was planning something.

“Your turn,” she said.

“For what?”

“To pleasure yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to…”

“Yep. And I want to watch.”

He recognized his own instructions to her and shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“You’ll really do it?” She seemed surprised, her eyes widening with excitement.

He laughed. “If you want, you crazy creature.”

“Oh my.” She unbuttoned his shirt and, getting him to sit up for a moment, slipped it off his shoulders. He undid the button and the top of his jeans and unzipped his flies. When he went to remove them, however, she stopped his hands. “No, keep them on.”

“Whatever the lady desires.” He lay back and stretched out beside her.

“Ooh.” She moved closer and propped herself up on an elbow, leaning over him slightly.

She studied him with her cool, green eyes. “This may not mean much to you, but it’s something I’ve never watched.”

“I’ve never done it for anyone, either.”

She blinked. “Truly?”

He shrugged. “Not like this.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “Heath?”

“Mm?”

She nuzzled his ear. “I read about it in a book once… When you come, will you…come over me?” Her cheeks flushed prettily.

He closed his eyes as heat radiated through him. “Good lord, woman. What are you trying to do to me?”

“All over me, Heath.” She kissed him again. “On my face.”

“Any more talk like that and it’ll be over before it’s begun.”

She laughed and moved even closer, pressing her breasts against his arm. “Go on then, quick, while there’s still time.”

He sighed and pushed down his boxers. Her gaze moved to watch him. As he began to stroke himself, he watched her, seeing her eyes widen with pleasure. Her breathing quickened as his erection swelled in his hand, reacting as much to her desire as to his sure, practiced touch.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” she said.

He closed his eyes. “You.”

“What part of me?” she teased.

“Your breasts. Stroking them with my hands. Covering your nipples with my mouth.” Hot blood surged around his body at the thought.

Her lips brushed his. “What else?”

He sighed. “Making love to you.”

“How? What position?” She moved on the bed and flicked her tongue over his nipples.

He caught his breath. “From behind. Kneeling.”

“Oh.” Her voice was faint with desire. “I’d like to try that.”

“I’d put my hands on your arse. And lean forward and cup your breasts.”

She kissed up his neck to his mouth. “Sounds like you have a very good imagination.”

He opened his eyes to look deep into hers. “It’s very useful when you’re not around.”

She watched his hand moving. “How often do you do this? No lying, now, not in the bedroom.”

“Most days. I can’t help it. I start thinking of you, and I’m lost.”

She traced her hand down his chest, across his stomach, circled his hips, and then slid her hand underneath his zipper and into his boxers to cup his balls. He sighed. She brushed his cheek with her lips. “Show me how to do it.”

He let her close her hand around him and put his hand on top of hers. Slowly, he showed her how to arouse him. She pushed his hand away and continued to move hers, gentle, rhythmic. “Is that okay?” she whispered. Her eyes were teasing. She knew how turned on he was.

“Yes.” He closed his eyes again and lifted his arms above his head, arching into her touch. “Oh yeah.”

“Think about my breasts, Heath,” she whispered in his ear. “Heavy and warm in your hand, my nipples pink and soft, until you lick them with your wonderful tongue, and then they tighten, go all hard as you suck.”

He sighed, but she hadn’t finished with him yet. She was obviously enjoying the new experience of talking dirty. And he was happy to encourage her.

She took his hand and brought it back down. “Now you. I like to watch you touching yourself, knowing you’re thinking about me. Growing hard because of me.” She slid her hand through his hair, brushed her lips against his temple. “I want you to think about how you like making love to me, Heath, how you push into me, how I feel all warm and wet around you. How you like to go deep, right inside me.” She gave a heartfelt sigh, almost a groan. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, you’re so sexy, and you turn me on so much. Come on, Heath, come for me, sweetheart. I want to see it happen, I want to watch you. Do it for me.”

It was no good—her voice was too husky, too sensual, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. Pushing himself up, he pressed her onto the bed and knelt beside her, knees spread wide. She scooted down a bit and slid an arm under him, kissing his thigh. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said. “Make my day.”

He sighed and began to stroke himself again, tipping back his head, closing his eyes. She was just too hot, too beautiful. Her answering murmur of appreciation tipped him over the edge. As heat surged through him and everything tightened, he knelt up and came over her, groaning, unable to believe how beautiful she looked as her eyelids fluttered and her beautiful pink tongue quickly disposed of the evidence.

“Ooh,” she said afterward, as he sat back with a sigh. “Yum.” He raised an eyebrow and she ran light fingers across her cheeks. “Nivea should bottle this. I bet it does wonders for the skin.”

Cat watched as, mumbling under his breath, Heath fell back onto the bed. She giggled and leaned over him.

“You are certifiable,” he told her, his eyes still closed.

She laughed, puzzled. “Why? Because I’m enjoying myself?”

“No. Because you seem to like me so much.”

She frowned. “You’re kidding me, right? Your other women must have felt the same way about you.”

He shrugged. “They didn’t seem quite so…enthusiastic.”

She shook her head. “How could any girl go to bed with you and not think you’re the best lover in the world?”

He laughed and stroked her cheek affectionately. “That’s a very kind thing to say. Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” He looked pleased at the compliment.

Cat studied him, perplexed. It was the first time she’d considered he might be getting more from their time together than just good sex. He made her feel special, and he was teaching her so much about making love, she’d not given any thought as to what she might be giving him in return. She’d assumed he liked having sex with her because she was fairly pretty, and he liked her body, and the archaeology thing was a turn on. And that she was convenient. It was pure luck that she’d happened to be in the bar when he was feeling horny, after all, otherwise he might have been more resilient to her attempt to seduce him. She’d also presumed his previous lovers were all experts in bed and had worshipped his every move. But maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe she made him feel special and sexy too. The thought made her feel strange inside, because, if that was the case, perhaps she meant more to him than just a warm body in his bed.

He sighed and looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. Do you want me to go back to my room?”

She studied him for a moment. He looked so gorgeous lying there, his jeans still around his hips, bare-chested, silver hair ruffled, eyes half-lidded with lazy contentedness. Suddenly the last thing she wanted was to spend the night alone.
Friends with benefits.
They were in the same hotel—what did it matter if they spent the night in the same bed?

She shrugged nonchalantly. “
Alien
is on the classic movie channel in fifteen minutes, if you’d like to watch it.”

“Oh, you’re so romantic,” he said, amused.

“Actually, although I love it, the film scares the crap out of me. I was hoping I could hide behind you.”

He smiled. “Come on then. Into bed with you, and get the TV on.”

The movie was a good excuse to cuddle up to him, not that she needed one particularly. He seemed quite happy to watch the TV with her tucked under his arm, kissing her occasionally, covering her eyes when he knew a scary bit was coming.

In the end, he stayed all night, and they managed to get through a further two condoms before they finally fell asleep, tired and happy, curled up in each other’s arms.

When Heath awoke, it was still dark. The clock on the bedside table read 5:45. Cat sat on his side of the bed, fully dressed, smiling at him.

He pushed himself up onto one elbow. “What’s up?”

“My plane goes at eight. I’ve got to check in by six thirty.” She touched his face. “You look lovely when you’re sleeping.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sat up as she went over to her case and zipped it up. His chest tightened. “Is the penguin going with you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light-hearted.

“Foxy?” She grinned at his grimace and studied the stuffed toy. “Stupid penguin. Don’t know if I’ve got room in my bag.” In spite of her words, she kissed its beak and squeezed it into her hand luggage.

She looked around the room, making sure she had everything. Finally, she came back over to him. “Thank you for a lovely time.”

“You’re welcome.” His heart pounded, but he knew there was nothing he could say to convince her to stay, or to get her to promise to see him again.

She bent and kissed him. “Goodbye, sweetheart. Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye, Catherine.”

And, just like that, for the second time since he’d met her, she walked out of his life.

Chapter 26

On the other side of the world, it was summer.

Cat was an intelligent woman—she had a degree, a Masters, and a PhD, but she still couldn’t get her head around the fact that not only was it hot Down Under, they were also living twelve hours in the future.

Okay, so maybe not
exactly
in the future, but that’s what it felt like, knowing that although it was Friday evening in the sub-tropical town of Kerikeri in the Northland of New Zealand, Alexander was just getting up in the UK.

Cat tipped her head back and let the sun warm her face as she walked slowly along the road to the inlet. Huge palms lined the roads, making her feel as if she was on the set of
Jurassic Park
and at any moment a T-rex and a velociraptor might come crashing through the trees on top of her. But all was quiet, the road free of cars, the only sound coming from fantails and tuis and other exotic birds flitting about in the palms.

The air was warm and humid, a welcome relief after the freezing weather of England. It was December nineteenth. She’d previously been swimming in the pool at her motel and still wore her bikini under a bright blue halter-top and a flowing white skirt, her hair scooped off her neck in a clip.

She rather liked New Zealand. The people were friendly and the climate appealing, the food was wonderful and the coffee fantastic. The only problem with the country was the fact that it had only been born relatively recently, which was a bit of a drawback to an archaeologist, especially one used to immersing herself in historical sites and artefacts. Still, she was on her way to the Stone Store—the country’s oldest stone building, and the next day she was due to meet the son of a local Maori tribal leader about some ancient Maori weapons that the British Museum would absolutely die for.

She rounded the corner and sighed at the view. The Stone Store, a large rectangular building, sat to her left on the bend of the old road that used to cross the river. To her right she could see a long, low building that claimed to be a bar and restaurant, with a white colonial-style veranda laying back off the road and overlooking the inlet, fronted by a huge pear tree.

She walked past the Stone Store, in front of the other wooden historic building she knew to be Kemp House, and down to the river, seeing kids playing on the stepping-stones to the other side while their parents strolled leisurely along the grassy banks.

Suddenly, for no good reason whatsoever, she missed Heath terribly. He’d phoned several times, but each time she’d avoided his call. Alexander was getting tired of coming up with excuses for why she refused to come to the phone. He’d tried to quiz her as to why she didn’t want to talk to Heath, and eventually she’d got angry and told him to mind his own business. But basically, she hadn’t wanted to talk to Heath because she knew speaking on the phone would be the first step toward having a relationship. And that wouldn’t be fair on him.

That didn’t stop her missing him, though.

Standing in the sun now, she watched the couples strolling hand-in-hand, the children playing in the water, and shivered. She felt as if she were pressing her nose up against the window of a toyshop, looking inside at all the brightly coloured toys, while outside it was a Dickensian winter. Part of her longed for that other life, marriage and kids and holding hands. But she’d made the decision that that life wasn’t for her. And nothing had changed since then. Even if she had met the kindest, sweetest, most gorgeous guy in the world.