The Good, the Bad and the Wild (5 page)

Finding the smooth plastic device, Eva pressed the button and a large door beneath the front steps lifted with an electric whine. Harsh neon lights flickered on as Nick drove the bike into a musty cellar garage. Shelves crowded with boxes lined one wall while a washing machine and drier stood in the opposite corner.

Eva clambered off the bike as the door whirred closed, but not before every one of the doubts that she’d been busy trying to pretend didn’t exist sneaked in with her. She levered off the helmet. Her hair plopped onto her shoulders, the artfully arranged chignon now a mass of
wet tangles. The velvet of Tess’s beautiful dress clung to her thighs in sodden patches.

Inadequacy assailed her as she watched Nick dismount and shove the bike onto its stand. His tall physique only looked more spectacular in the soaking jeans and jumper. Spotlighted by the brittle white light, the denim moulded to long, lean thighs while damp cashmere clung to the sleek musculature of his chest and shoulders.

Maybe this hadn’t been such an excellent idea after all. She looked about as sexy as a drowned collie while he looked like Adonis. Her stomach squeezed. Maybe she simply wasn’t capable of being a bad girl, even for one night.

He disengaged the bike key and shoved it in his back pocket, then swiped his hair off his forehead. Drops of water dampened the concrete as she debated how best to decline his offer without seeming rude.

But then he whisked his wet jumper over his head—and she forgot to breathe, let alone look for an escape route.

‘It’s always freezing down here,’ he said, crossing towards her. ‘Even in the summer.’

She stared, her gaze riveted to his naked chest. Not just giddy any more but light-headed.

Goodness
.

She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Bronzed, olive skin defined the bunch of muscle that looked so much leaner and tougher than the steroidal excess of the romance cover models
she’d once fantasised about. She certainly wouldn’t be fantasising about them any more.

A faded tattoo of a coiled snake writhed on his left bicep as he rubbed the garment over his hair, making it stick up in rough spikes. Her gaze locked on the springy curls of hair under his arms, which also grew much more sparsely around flat brown nipples. The dusting of hair angled down into a thin line that bisected the ridges of his six pack before disappearing beneath the low waistband of his jeans. Her heartbeat bumped against her neck as she noticed the thin white scar that stood out against the bronzed skin of his abdomen, slashing across his ribs to follow the line of his hipbone. She struggled to breathe, horrified and yet entranced by the other smaller scars she spotted marring smooth skin. She’d known he was dangerous, but she hadn’t realised quite how dangerous.

Her eyes jerked to his face as he lobbed the wet sweater into a wicker laundry basket beside the washing machine. Stepping closer, he lifted the helmet out of her hands, a confident smile edging his lips. She could have sworn she could feel the heat of his skin. Or maybe that was just her body temperature going haywire, because she was about to pass out?

She drew in a lungful of air. And tasted the clean spicy scent of him.

‘You cold?’ he asked, dumping the helmet on
a shelf. She shook her head, knowing speech was probably a bad idea.

‘Come on, the apartment’s a lot warmer.’

‘Okay,’ she mumbled, as if she needed any more heat.

Having retrieved her bag from the bike box, he hooked it over her shoulder, then guided her towards a wooden staircase that led out of the back of the garage into the rain. ‘You’ll need to lose the ankle-breakers,’ he said, the weight of his palm on her back causing the now familiar sizzles of electricity. ‘The stairs get slippery in the rain.’

She nodded, still mute, and slipped off the slingback shoes. Before she could bend to pick them up, he scooped them off the floor.

He clasped her hand and they dashed through the rain together, drops splashing on the wooden decks as they climbed to the top landing. Her breath sawed out as he led her through terrace doors into a long, narrow room with high ceilings and a marble fireplace thrown into shadow by the twilight. The starkly modern leather sofa and chairs and huge flat-screen TV contrasted with the old-world charm of the cornices on the ceiling. A light clicked on illuminating a spotlessly clean, granite and glass kitchen at the far end of the room.

‘I’ll get some towels,’ he said, disappearing down a corridor to the right of the kitchen.

She shivered violently. The room was warm,
cosy even, with the sound of the sleeting rain lashing the terrace doors, but the sight of his naked back retreating from view did nothing to stop the shaking.

Dropping her bag on the kitchen counter, she spotted her mobile in the side pocket, its message light flashing.

She read the text from Tess.
‘Where r u???’

She paused with her fingers over the key pad. What should she say? How did she explain where she was and what she was planning to do? She took in a shuddering breath.

Keep it brief. Keep it simple. And don’t go into too much detail or you might chicken out
.

She keyed in:
‘I’m with Nick.’

The mobile buzzed almost instantly with Tess’s reply.
‘OMG! U wild woman.’

A smile quirked on Eva’s lips, excitement dispelling the last of her terror. Finally, dull, swotty Eva Redmond was having a conversation like the ones she’d once overheard in the changing room before PE class or in the common room at university. The conversations she’d listened to with avid interest and secretly envied, but had never once been a part of. Because the girls she’d eavesdropped on—the pretty, confident girls who had boyfriends and a social life and didn’t stress about their exams or their homework nearly as much as they did about their next date—those girls had never talked to Eva. In
fact they had probably never even known she existed.

Eva tapped out:
‘Don’t w8 up,’
the last of her doubts lifting off her shoulders. Who knew it would feel so liberating not to be invisible any more?

Tess’s reply flashed back.
‘LOL. Go 4 it!’

She shoved the phone back into the bag, next to the file folder that contained her notes on the D’Alegria case. A wayward grin spread across her face. There would be time enough for work tomorrow. Tonight, Eva Redmond was finally going to get the chance to play.

She peeled off her wet tights and buried the sodden mass in the pocket of the leather jacket. Maybe she didn’t look her best, but she planned to look as presentable as possible. Clammy water dripped down under the collar as she heard the soft pad of footsteps in the hall.

Appearing out of the shadows, Nick walked towards her with predatory grace, a towel draped around his neck and his feet now as bare as his chest. The exhilaration caused by her girly text conversation peaked and Eva’s teeth chattered.

Without a word, Nick took the tab of the jacket zip between his fingers. The rasp of the tiny metal teeth releasing cut through the soft patter of the slowing rain. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders, tugged it down her arms and dumped it on the sofa. Carefully locating the last
of the pins in her hair, he pulled each of them out then ran his fingers through the wet curls, gently parting the tangles. The rain glistened in his damp hair as he drew the towel from around his neck, then gathered the ends of her hair and rubbed.

Eva stood trembling under his ministrations, her heartbeat rioting. A muscle in his jaw flexed while he concentrated on the task. The bodice of the dress felt like a corset closing off her air supply. Her heavy breasts swelled against the constriction as the ends of the towel fluttered over her cleavage.

Finally satisfied, he looped the towel round her neck. Holding the ends, he tugged her up onto her tiptoes. She opened her mouth on a little gasp and his tongue plundered as she placed her hands on his stomach to steady herself. The hot smooth skin tensed under her palms and her fingers touched the rough edges of the scar. As he lifted his head her breathing became so jagged she felt as if she were about to faint.

He let go of the towel, and she dropped back onto her heels. His palms cradled her elbows, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin on the inside as his lips lifted on one side in a lopsided smile. ‘I’ll have to take the dress off, to dry you properly.’

The rough murmur seemed to prickle over her skin, scraping over each of the places that
throbbed with need. She looked back at him, and felt the spark of impulse, the sizzle of desire and anticipation. All her life she must have had this wildness lurking inside but it had taken a man like Nick Delisantro to locate it and bring it galloping to the surface.

‘I’d like that,’ she heard herself murmur, her voice low and sultry and nothing like her own.

His lips quirked as he placed his hands firmly on her waist. ‘You would, huh?’

She nodded.

He didn’t reply, but anchored his hand on her hip and turned her to face the terrace doors. Lifting the hair draped over her shoulder, he trailed tiny kisses down her neck, sucking and nibbling and sending her senses into overdrive. The reflection of them, backlit by the kitchen light, was so erotic her knees trembled. He stood behind her, his head dark against the stark white skin of her collarbone. The zip at the back of the dress released, freeing her breasts from the too-small bodice as firm fingers eased the straps of the dress down. His eyes met hers in the rain-splattered glass as he undid the hook on her bra with a deafening click. He peeled the purple lace off leaving her naked to the waist.

His teeth fastened on the cord in her neck, feasting on the sensitive spot as his fingers traced the outline of her areolas. She raised limp arms, fastened them around his neck and arched into his hands, desperate to feel more, to have it
all. She sobbed, her breath trapped in her lungs as hot callused palms cupped her breasts and caressed.

She shuddered, the pleasure so intense her knees buckled.

He swore, the harsh expletive making her eyes fly open. Grasping her waist, he spun her round to face him, then cradled her breast, and fastened his lips on the aching peak.

She held his head, the hair damp against her palms as he teased the swollen tip with his tongue, his teeth. Her thighs quivered and she moaned, scolding heat scorching down her torso to the bundle of nerves at her centre.

He raised his head, ending the devastating torment, and then shoved the dress past her hips. It settled around her ankles, leaving only the tiny swatch of lace covering her sex. She’d never felt more vulnerable, more exposed in her life, but as she saw the glazed desire in his eyes power surged.

‘Put your hands round my neck,’ he demanded. She obeyed, mesmerised by the hard glint of passion darkening the golden brown as he swept her up in his arms. Kicking the heavy velvet out of his way, he strode across the front room, then down the narrow corridor to the back of the apartment. Shoving open a door, he walked into a large room, its hexagonal shape marking it out as the pergola she’d admired from below.

Her breasts ached, and every inch of her skin tingled as he laid her on the large bateau bed that dominated the room. Moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting the harsh beauty of his torso. She panted, trying to calm her breathing, wipe the fog of arousal from her mind as he grabbed a foil packet out of the bedside table and flung it onto the coverlet. She clasped her arms across her swollen breasts, the heady feel of his teeth, his tongue still a visceral memory as he unsnapped his jeans, ripped open the button fly and kicked off the wet denim and cotton boxers beneath.

Her heart rammed into her throat as she got her first sight of the column of erect flesh that thrust out from the nest of hair at his groin. A shocked gasp escaped her lips as she gauged the impressive length and thickness.

Her mind engaged, and she felt a flutter of panic as the blaze of lust flooded between her thighs. She knew all about the mechanics of sex, had spent years day-dreaming about this moment. But she’d never seen a naked man in the flesh before. Let alone a naked man who was fully aroused. And she hadn’t day-dreamed about anything quite that… She took a steadying breath, desire and panic twisting together in the pit of her stomach. Anything quite that enormous.

He grasped the foil packet off the bed, rolled on the latex sheath with ease and efficiency. She
glanced up as he settled onto the bed beside her, dragged her easily into his arms, his erection now butting her thigh.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he said, sounding puzzled and amused as he took her wrists, to lift her clasped arms away from her breasts. ‘Don’t get shy on me, now.’

She struggled to breathe, knowing she had to relax, or this would be a thousand times more uncomfortable. Should she tell him? That this was her first time? But then he dipped his head, captured one aching peak between his teeth, and she raised off the bed, pushing her body instinctively into the exquisite torture.

Don’t think. Just feel. And don’t tell him, or he may stop
.

As her fingers fisted on the sheet, her body bowed by the renewed onslaught of sensation, she knew that, however painful the initial penetration, she didn’t want him to stop.