The House at the Bottom of the Hill (18 page)

He lowered his head, his cheek brushing the side of hers as he moved his mouth to her ear. ‘So what’s
your
next move?’ he asked, his tone a murmuring, mesmerising caress.

She gasped as the sensual drawl in his voice flitted through her. ‘It’s tactical. It might hurt and shock you.’

‘Go for it.’

He fell for her ruse and released her from his hold. Charlotte turned, grabbed the thumb on his right hand, bent it back towards his forearm, and down towards the ground.

He let out a surprised laugh, edged with pain. She gave him a second to register what had happened to him, let go of his hand, caught him around the neck and kissed him.

This was showing him. Thought she was all ice and no fire, huh? Boy, was he getting a taste now.

His arms came around her again, but this time his move had a much greater impact on her. He was strong and fluid. Her body was taut, still geared up from the shock of the events of the last few minutes. His body was warm, and softened only the way a man with self-assured control could ever have. She felt his heartbeat. A strong rhythm, unlike hers, which was knocking a hole in her chest as though her ribcage was made of flimsy cardboard.

She wasn’t sure if she’d released him from the kiss or if he’d released her, but either way, their mouths were no longer touching. She looked long and deep into his eyes until she saw the flecks of gold on mink and almost fell in.

He lifted his chin, indicating the doors behind her. ‘I could lock them,’ he said quietly. ‘My room’s thirty steps away.’

Thoughts of a dozen consequences skimmed fast and furious through her mind, battling with her yearning for what he proposed. It wasn’t easy knocking friends back, and the friend she never expected to have was standing in front of her, offering something she’d gone without for—well, long enough for it to be termed a long time. It wasn’t easy staying detached when her heart kept melting at things like the flocked wallpaper she was becoming fond of and a pink-flowering plant she’d watered and put into the shade early this morning. Not to mention home-brewed wines, and martinis mixed by the guy she didn’t care for. The guy who was making her limbs tremble. The guy who was giving her serious thoughts about getting naked next to him. The guy whose abs were undoubtedly ripped. She blinked. It was always best to check before making such a statement. She glanced down to his abdomen, and further down, to his—

‘Bet I can get you to make those noises you can’t remember how to make.’

Thought he’d get somewhere with that smoky voice, did he? She reached out and pinched his waist.

He buckled slightly, a grin on his face. ‘Hey, that’s not fair.’

‘You’re ticklish. I told you my memory was fail proof.’

‘Well if you’d like to step out to the back room with me, I’ll give you something you’ll remember through summer, autumn and possibly winter.’

She bit down the laugh rising inside her; knew by the light in his eyes he was being bold, not pushy. There was nothing cocky and boyish about him now. A man stood in front of her, ready to take her to bed and have sex with her.

His gaze narrowed on her and the mesmerising flecks threw suggestive thoughts her way. ‘Want to play, Charlotte? Want to know where else I’m ticklish?’

Her heartbeat rocketed to full-thrust level.

‘Ten minutes, that’s all it’ll take.’

‘Is that all you’ve got?’

He reached over her shoulder and locked the swing doors. He pulled the blinds fully down on the windows. The little tassels on their thin chains rattled against the wood. He manoeuvred her until her back was up against the locked and shuttered doors. ‘How long would you like it to take?’

All day and then some. Right through the night to the sunrise. Maybe until she saw the wildflowers bloom. ‘Twenty minutes’ worth or no deal.’

‘Now you’re bargaining with me?’ He grinned his boyish grin but when he bent and nuzzled her earlobe, it was the thrill of a strong and terrific man making her shudder in pleasure. It tingled through her body, from her earlobe to her toes.

‘All right,’ she said, her mouth on the soft, glossy brown hair on his head. ‘Five minutes would probably do it.’

‘Now you’re talking.’ He put his mouth on hers and kissed her as if she was a fire he had to put out. He pulled her with him as he walked backwards, his tongue probing against hers.

Her body trembled like a firework about to shoot into the sky, and her blood heated to explosion level. She was flushed all over—beneath her clothing. Too many clothes. She wore too many clothes.

‘You taste sweet, Charlotte.’ His mouth did something monumentally tormenting to her earlobe.

‘Don’t talk,’ she gasped. ‘There’s no time.’ She nudged him with her hips while she grappled with her blouse. She tore it from the waistband of her skirt and searched for the buttons at the hem, fingers shaking with anticipation.

‘Let me help you.’ He undid the buttons on her blouse quickly, without ripping the material. He must have had some serious practice at this. She’d got lucky. The man had skills and she was about to taste them. All of them, hopefully. Her life had been a drought for so long …

He pushed the blouse from her shoulders so it dropped to the floor behind her.

They paused again.

They were in his bedroom, or his gym room. Charlotte didn’t look around but the fragrance of a masculine space blanketed her senses. Worn leather and steel from much-used gym equipment, the tang of freshly laundered linen, melon and sandalwood aftershave, deluxe coffee berries … and racy, stimulating desire.

She’d imagined him half naked on a tractor. She hadn’t imagined herself half naked in his bedroom-cum-gym while he stood fully clothed in front of her, looking down at her breasts. Her about-to-be-exposed breasts. Her bra felt too tight but that was okay because any minute now that penetrating gaze of his would laser it off.

She drew in a breath as he pulled her close and took hold of the clasp on her bra. Her breasts were against the solid warmth of his chest but she needed skin. ‘Your shirt,’ she said as he undid her bra.

He slid the straps down her arms and dropped her bra to one side. ‘Holy Jesus, look at you.’ He bent and took a nipple in his mouth, his hands firm on her waist, holding her in place.

‘Daniel …’

‘What was that about my shirt?’ He straightened, and held her breasts, one in each of his large, steady hands. His palms were roughened with work, physical work, bench-pressing work, outdoor wood-chopping work, but the pads on his thumbs were gentle as they swept over her, back and forth.

‘Take it off.’

He smiled.

‘Take it off,’ she said again. ‘Please.’ His chest expanded as he breathed deeply. A chest covered with too much shirt. She scrabbled for the buttons and managed to undo half of them.

‘Steady, you’re pushing me over.’

‘I’m using my attack skills on you. Don’t be frightened.’

He laughed and let her undo the rest of the buttons. She laughed with him, the shock of desire mingling with the humour they’d found. Who would have thought her first
close
friend would be Hotshot? She felt overwhelmingly friendly towards him, and looking below his waist, he obviously felt inclined to friendliness himself. His comfortable fit jeans didn’t look that comfortable now.

Her knees buckled when he thrust his shirt from his shoulders and shrugged it off. The man was built like a champion. Strong neck, a pitch to his heavy-duty shoulders telling her he was used to tackles and scrums. She hadn’t thought about his arms or what they’d look like but they were ball-throwing, hay-balelifting defined. She trailed her fingers over the solid curve of his shoulder, along his fine collarbone and down to his chest. She slid the palm of her hand over healthy pectoral muscles, fanned and taut. She let her hand and her gaze drift lower.

Everything below his glorious pectorals was in proportion. The bumps of his ribcage, the toughened muscles around his waist and … She inhaled the slightest of breaths. His abdominal muscles looked like they’d been placed with precision by the goddess of nature. She touched them with her fingertips. ‘You’ve got abs,’ she murmured.

‘So have you.’ His thumbs skimmed her midriff.

‘Mine don’t look like yours.’

‘I’m kinda glad about that.’ He lifted her chin with his fingers, caught her gaze and bent to kiss her.

She wound her arms around his neck, loving the touch of his skin against hers. He moved with her in his arms. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I need to get you to the bed.’

‘No time.’ What she needed him to do was get his jeans off.

‘I want to do this right for you.’ His hands swept down her spine, captured her bottom and pulled her into him. ‘Let me get you on the bed.’

‘We haven’t got time.’ She yanked at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the stud and searching for the zipper.

He groaned. ‘Take it easy or it’s going to be over before it’s begun.’

‘Stop talking. You’re talking too much.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He pushed her hands away, took hold of the hem of her skirt and slid it up over her thighs and hips. Cool air rushed over her tingling skin. He hooked his thumbs into her pants and pulled them down the length of her legs. Her knees trembled as she stepped out of them. She was nude, apart from the skirt caught around her waist—and he was still half dressed.

She pointed to his jeans. ‘Take them off.’

He held her hips in his hands, his gaze sliding from the tips of her breasts to the tops of her thighs. ‘Man, would you look at you?’ he said softly. He looked into her eyes. ‘I’d like to take my time with you.’

If he didn’t take his jeans off right now, she’d show him phase two of the hammer grip manoeuvre. ‘The clock’s running.’

He grinned. ‘So it is. I forgot.’ He picked her up. She laced her legs around his waist. ‘Oh, that’s good, Red.’

‘I haven’t actually done this in a while.’

‘I can tell.’

‘I’m out of touch.’

He thrust his pelvis at her hips until his … Charlotte went a little dizzy.

‘Remember what this is for?’ he asked.

She nodded. And all this hardware was hers.

Dan didn’t waste time. Time was precious because he didn’t think he’d last much longer than it appeared Charlotte would. Man, she was wrapped around him, all legs and arms. There wasn’t time to hit the mattress, the woman wanted this done fast and he was happy to oblige.

He moved with her still in his arms, her legs wrapped around his hips and the heat from between her thighs resting against the heat in his jeans. He picked up a towel from a pile of freshly laundered linen, whipped it behind Charlotte and laid it across the dark green seat of his incline bench-press—didn’t want her getting cold on the shiny vinyl. He popped her bottom down on the seat, straddled the lower section of the bench, keeping her legs around him. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’ He reached out to the chest of drawers on his right. Charlotte’s fingers scraped along his back. He stretched as far as he could without letting go of the woman waiting for him and managed to grab hold of the drawer handle. She ran her nails down his sides, sending lightning forks along his spine. He yanked the drawer so hard it came out of its housing and fell to the floor.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to pull him back.

He bent, grabbed what he wanted from the clutter on the floor. ‘Just taking the appropriate precaution for the situation.’ He had to let go of her in order to stand and get his jeans off first. He prised his shoes off and shoved his jeans and his boxers down and off his legs.

Her hands few to her mouth. ‘Oh, bugger—I nearly forgot!’

Dan smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry, Red. I’ve got all your interests at heart. I’ll deal with the safe side of things while you concentrate on having a very, very good time.’

Fully undressed apart from the necessary, Dan let Charlotte look at him for a moment. She parted her lips and took a ragged breath. ‘Oh my God.’ Her gaze went all dewy as she ran it over him.

He lifted her and settled her spine against the length of the slanted backrest. ‘This too fast?’ he asked, half disappointed things were happening so quickly he was missing out on foreplay, but mostly desperate to get inside her warmth.

‘The clock,’ she said, running sharp, sweet nips with her teeth along his jaw and down his neck. ‘Don’t forget the clock.’

‘Tick tock.’ Her pelvis against his, her upper body inclined at a 45-degree angle, Dan tilted her hips and slid inside her. Her head rolled back, wisps of red and auburn hair floating across her cheekbones. He leaned into her, holding the backrest with one hand, bracing himself, his other hand at the base of her spine, keeping her against him as the rhythm of sex pulsed between them. ‘Holy hell, Charlotte.’

‘Don’t stop.’

‘Not going to.’ They were going to set a record.

‘Daniel,’ she said, clinging to him. ‘I think I’m … I’m …’

‘Don’t apologise.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ she said, her voice downy and feather light. ‘I’m just warning you.’

Dan didn’t need a commentary to tell him she was at the ten-metre line.

‘Just like that,’ she said, voice tightened now. ‘Don’t stop that.’

She was under the posts and the crowd in Dan’s head went wild.

Goal. Try. Touch-down. The impact of her body shuddering against his and the force he was experiencing with this exceptional woman in his arms left him in no doubt about what was coming his way.

She slackened, the breathy sounds from the back of her throat turning to vocalised sighs.

He tightened his hold of her. ‘I think this means it’s my turn.’

‘Your turn,’ she repeated, her eyelids fluttering, her mouth open and her sexy lips plumped from the pressure he’d been putting on them with his kisses.

He rocked into her, cradling her, keeping her against him, and ensuring neither of them fell off the bench. She had her hands on his head, fingers spreading through his hair and over his scalp. She was warm, tight, curvy, soft and womanly. A pale, slim-limbed firecracker sprawled naked on a piece of his home gym equipment, and he wasn’t going to make it to the end of the next thought.

The powerful, sexual appeal of her surged in his groin. When it came it crashed over him like a wave and drowned him. For a few short seconds he was lost in a watery heaven and didn’t want to find his way back to the coastline.