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Her body readied in an instant. She was wet, hot, slippery as she rocked her hips in helpless abandon, seeking closer, complete contact. She spread her legs wider, so she could feel his strength between her sensitive upper thighs. His bare, hair-roughened skin heated her more.
She wanted. She wanted, wanted, wanted. She moaned as he kissed her. Moaned as she thought of the more to come. Moaned as it wasn’t happening quick enough.
She wore the T-shirt, he wore the boxers. There wasn’t another item of clothing between them. She wriggled to accommodate hi
m, fitting into place to feel his blunt, hard erection pushing right where she desperately ached. She cursed the cotton covering him. If it weren’t for that he could be inside her already. She burned for him to fill her, to propel her furiously towards release. His fingers slid down over the T-shirt, over her butt until he encountered the bare back of her thigh. She ground down harder on him in instinctive reaction. His fingers began to trail back up her leg, this time sliding under the tee. As he encountered the bare skin of her buttocks he groaned, his body flexing in automatic response—a powerful, passionate thrust that made her gasp even as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. For a long moment they lay locked—straining together, his tongue thrust deep, his blind cock seeking to drive deeper still, while she bore down on him, open and wet and willing.
He tore his mouth free. ‘Hell.’ He grabbed her hips hard and pushed her up—away from him. ‘Stop.’
Panting, she looked down at his gleaming body. What the hell was he on about? She was seconds from orgasm and she wanted that orgasm. Badly.
‘Caitlin,’ he grunted, his breathing rough and loud. ‘I can’t...’
His words came choppy; his fingers bit into her flesh. There was no mistaking the rigid determination on his face. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want her.
Of course he didn’t.
Caitlin froze as if she’d plunged through a crack in an ice-covered lake.
‘This is a bad idea,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t going to let this happen. I told myself—’ He stopped again and dropped his head on the floor. It clunked.
Oh, so what, it had been her fault? Instinctive defensive anger flared. He’d been the one to pull her onto him. He’d been the one all standing to attention already. But maybe it was just his morning glory she’d been making the most of? Maybe he woke every day with a super huge, hot erection and it had nothing to do with her at all?
Oh, hell. She knew that already. All he’d been doing was blowing off steam after that awkward phone call of his. There wasn’t anything more than that to it.
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it.’ Awkwardly, she scrambled to her feet and then scooted back over the bed, getting as far away from him as she could until she hit the mussed-up pile of pillows. She drew on an icy cloak of indifference and attempted to minimise. ‘It was just a kiss, James.’
He sat up, his head popping up over the mattress. ‘That wasn’t just a kiss,’ he said drily. ‘What it was, was pretty damn...uh.’ He shook his head a fraction. ‘But it’s been a while for me...’
Oh, please. She didn’t want him to lie or make up excuses or be polite and let her down gently. If he didn’t want her, he didn’t want her. No problem.
But cold mortification seeped into her marrow. Because she’d wanted him. And he knew just how much she’d wanted him—she’d been moaning non-stop.
‘Yeah.’ She nodded, acting up the amused ‘it-was-nothing’ scene. ‘So your judgment is warped. Kissing anything with lips would be good for you.’
His mouth opened. Then closed. Then he laughed. He stood and to her immense relief yanked on the nearest T-shirt. Grey, of course. Then he looked at her again, his voice dropping into spoof depths. ‘So, how was it for you?’
She shrugged, determined to sass her way through the embarrassment. ‘Just a kiss. Not that great.’
‘You do tell lies.’ He laughed again. ‘Defence.’ He nodded. ‘I’ve got it. But—’ his expression went serious ‘—you know this shouldn’t happen. Flirting is one thing, sleeping together another.’
They already were sleeping together. Properly sleeping in just the one—albeit luxury—room. That brought a wholly different kind of intimacy. She was getting to know more about him than she ever would if they’d just had a one-night stand. But she merely nodded.
‘It wouldn’t be right,’ he said softly.
Wanting her wasn’t right? How insulting was that? She itched to rebel, to retaliate. Or better still, prove a point—take him, make him...
She halted her crazy vixen thoughts. As if she could make him. What a joke. He’d just proven he had far greater will power than she did. And hadn’t she grown out of brattish behaviour? No more being Caitlin ‘always wants more’ Moore.
But that didn’t stop her annoyance with his ‘perfection’.
‘And you always do the right thing?’ she jeered softly.
A strange expression crossed his face—he looked almost wistful. ‘Like most people, I try.’
Silently she stared at him, trying to figure out how the hell to extricate herself from this nightmare with just a shred of dignity intact. To her relief, her mobile phone rang. She pounced on it, ruefully wishing it had rung five minutes earlier and saved her from the humiliation of all but begging him to screw her.
She turned her back on him as she breathlessly answered. She had to get the caller to repeat everything until she understood what the woman was saying. She still refused to turn and face him after hanging up.
‘They’ve finally found my bag,’ she said crisply, though he’d have got that from hearing her end of the conversation.
‘Great. They’re sending it over?’
She nodded. This was good. There’d be no more sharing of clothes. No more bare skin at night. And she wouldn’t have to spend money she didn’t have. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’
She stalked into the bathroom, locking the door and flicking the shower to cold. She lifted her burning face into the frigid stream. Wished she were frigid. Instead she’d been writhing all over him—ready to orgasm within ten seconds of snogging. What must he think of her?
She grimaced. No worse than what he already had once thought—that she was a tart who’d sleep with anything.
She soon had enough of the ice water treatment and turned on the heat. She stood in the shower for ages, refusing to worry that James might need to use the room too. She was hoping he’d have left the apartment by the time she deigned to leave the shower.
When she did finally open the bathroom door and peer out, she saw the bed was now neatly made and—joy of joys—her small suitcase sitting on the lower corner. The airline lady hadn’t been kidding when she’d said they’d already sent it right over.
She grabbed the case and darted back into the bathroom, changing into one of her favourite floral dresses. Nice-fitting clothes were as good as iron armour. She brushed her hair and lifted her chin at her reflection. She could face him and not flush. No problem.
But he wasn’t in the bedroom when she walked out into it. She went downstairs, listening hard but hearing nothing. She sniffed, slightly miffed that he’d gone. Then she sniffed again. She could smell something amazing. She got to the lower floor and stopped and stared. He’d set up some kind of camp kitchen down in the stripped-back, barren room? And even better, he’d cooked up something mouth-watering—that he was now eating.
He glanced at her and swallowed his mouthful with a muffled choking sound. ‘I like those clothes much better.’ He breathed in deep.
‘I’m supposed to be flattered?’ She locked into safe sarcastic mode.
‘If you want my delicious breakfast, yes.’ He retaliated by zooming back to flirt zone. And smiling.
Which was so brutally unfair of him.
‘Then I’m flattered.’ She bestowed a saccharine smile on him. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ It wasn’t a total lie; she was a little pleased—this dress had been one of the first she’d designed herself when she’d been playing about. But she wasn’t letting him win any real points.
He continued to smile right back at her—his gaze warm and lingering. She clamped down on the warmth working its way through her. Did he really think he could charm them through this embarrassment?
‘I’m sorry about before,’ he said easily, clearly thinking exactly that. ‘Maybe it was inevitable with two single people staying
in such close quarters. It needed to happen. But now we’ve broken that tension, right?’
Oh, it so hadn’t needed to happen. And as for breaking the tension? It had left her yearning for more. Hell, her nerves were screaming at her to jump him this second. As far as she was concerned, the tension was way worse. ‘Yeah, well, guess we’re just two little animals who can’t resist basic instinct.’
‘But we can. We just have.’
And they’d continue to? No giving in to the searing temptation? ‘Of course,’ she replied through gritted teeth.
James turned back to the small grill and took another pace away from her to get some very necessary space for the gas ring. And himself. But she stepped after him again, wide-eyed at the prep work he’d done yesterday before she’d got home.
‘You didn’t want to go to your diner?’ she muttered.
He gave her a feeble grin. He’d go to the diner in a heartbeat. But he knew she wouldn’t. A coffee wasn’t enough. It was economics—he’d already known it before her confession of last night. He cracked an egg into the pan. ‘I like a home-cooked breakfast.’
Hard boiled, over easy, sunny side up, runny yolk... He liked it all ways. Lots of ways. Just lots of it. Ugh. He winced at himself and the deep, single, smutty groove his mind was stuck in.
Treat her like the sister he’d never had. That was the only way to get through. He’d think of her as a sister. Put her firmly in the ‘untouchable’ basket. She needed a break away and apparently had nowhere else to go. George had said she’d had a hard time. She might make herself out to be a tough nut, but James wasn’t messing round with her. And he did only ever mess about.
Except she’d gotten him so hot he’d almost come without even penetrating her. It was pathetic. No way could he have lasted even a few seconds more. He’d been rough, ready to slam inside her the second he’d touched her, and would have come the next second if they’d kept kissing. Worse than a youth fumbling through his first time. He wasn’t doing that to her or any woman.
He blanked out the tiny voice telling him that she’d liked it. That she’d wanted it. That she’d been close to coming herself given the way she’d been riding him. And that he’d have gotten hard again in record time.
