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‘I think we already did that bit. Where are we going?’
‘I’m going to show you my loincloth.’
We were both laughing but even laughter didn’t lessen the sexual high, and then we were in his bedroom and he set me down on the bed, which was a relief because my legs felt so weak I wasn’t sure they’d hold me if he’d expected me to stand.
Somehow he managed to put the champagne and the glasses down without spilling anything and turned to face me.
‘This time,’ he said slowly, ‘we’re going to do it properly.’
I wondered what he thought we’d just done.
CHAPTER EIGHT
His bedroom faced o
ver the river and I could see the London Eye in the distance. I imagined all the tourists in those glass pods training their binoculars on the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace and catching sight of Hunter naked in his apartment. He was more impressive than any London landmark—but he didn’t offer two-for-one tickets, so you can forget any ideas about increasing visitor numbers.
I sat on his bed, naked apart from the pink T-shirt, and he was still dressed.
I believed in equality. ‘Take your clothes off.’
That made him smile. ‘I hoped you might do it for me.’
‘That works for me. What did you mean when you said we were going to do it properly?’
He topped up our glasses. ‘We’re going to take our time. We have five years to catch up on, Ninja.’
Despite all my protests, the name made my insides melt.
It was personal.
It was ours.
Something of the past that locked us together and made this more than a mindless sexual encounter. Nothing could change the fact we had history.
He handed me a glass and I sat up on his bed and took it. I’m not much of a drinker generally, because I’m so serious about training. It didn’t take more than a few gulps before I could feel a warmth slowly spreading through my limbs. Or maybe it was being close to him.
Keeping his eyes on me, he dragged off his shirt.
My gaze slid upward to his shoulders, power-packed muscle. He’d always had a good body, but the years and intense training had added definition.
His jeans were undone at the waist and a line of dark hair guided the eye downward.
My mouth was dry and I took a mouthful of champagne and then put the glass down and shifted across the bed so I was eye level with the thick ridge of his erection, which was as big as the rest of him.
Looking up at him, I slid my hands round the bare skin of his back and then pushed his jeans past his hips and down his legs.
Hunter had been my first and they say you always remember your first, but even if he hadn’t been, he wasn’t a man any woman was likely to forget.
He was perfect to look at and I devoured him greedily with my eyes before leaning forward and taking the whole hot, hard, smooth length of him into my mouth.
His breathing changed and it gave me a feeling of satisfaction to know I affected him as deeply as he affected me.
I took my time. Exploring him with the tip of my tongue, taking him deep, teasing him until he groaned and sank his hands into my hair. I felt the hard bite of his fingers against my scalp and then he eased away from me, flattened me to the bed and came down on top of me.
‘I want you again.’ His voice was thickened, his eyes dark and dangerous as he held my gaze.
‘I want you, too.’
