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Perhaps forever.
The five guys she’d slept with – since losing her virginity in the back of Stan McCormack’s dad’s Skoda Octavia age seventeen – had never made her feel this good when she was actually having sex with them. Not even close.
His magic fingers threaded through the short curls at her nape. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, but couldn’t choke off the orgasmic sob or stop the full body shiver of pure unadulterated joy.
His fingers paused. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Absolutely,’ she rasped, her voice husky enough to lead a bobsleigh across the North Pole.
‘You sure you’re not cold?’ he said, the magic fingers still withholding their orgasmatronic powers.
Are you bloody kidding me? If I get much hotter I’ll spontaneously combust.
‘No, no, not at all.’ She knew she protested way too much but seriously, if he stopped now she might have to beg. Getting her hair washed by Luke Devlin was the best thing that had happened to her in months. And definitely the best thing ever to happen to her sex-wise.
Even though it wasn’t supposed to be sexual.
She probably ought to feel guilty that she was exploiting him and his magic fingers and his kind offer to rinse her hair for her own erotic pleasures. But she could feel guilty about it later. Much much later, maybe after she’d had a one-on-one with her vibrator while reliving it first.
He ran his fingers over her scalp, while pouring another dose of the now cooling water over her head. Bliss rippled over her skin and reverberated in her torso, releasing a flood of warmer moisture between her legs.
The moan of pleasure would not be denied this time.
‘Ruby? Are you sure you’re okay?’ he said again, but she could hear the rasp of amusement this time.
Did he know what he was doing to her? Was he doing it deliberately?
The thought ought to have mortified her. But she was way past the point of no return now, on her voyage to erotic nirvana. So instead the mocking, self-satisfied tone had the opposite effect, making the heavy weight pulse and ache in her abdomen.
‘I’m fine,’ she croaked. ‘In fact I’m better than fine. I’m ecstatic,’ she added, because there wa
sn’t much point keeping it a secret. ‘You have a rare talent. You could make a fortune in tips at a women’s hair salon.’
‘Good to know.’ He chuckled, the sound decidedly smug now but all the hotter for it. Lifting the towel she had round her shoulders, he plopped it on her over-sensitized head and gave it a vigorous rub. ‘All done,’ he said as he let her go.
‘Seriously?’ she asked unable to keep the pout out of her voice. ‘Are you absolutely positive you didn’t miss any? It’s important to be thorough.’
I begged. Sue me.
‘Yeah.’ The deep laugh from behind her was its own reward.
What was it about Luke Devlin’s rough, rusty laugh that made it even more erotic than his magic orgasmic fingers?
She straightened and turned, taking hold of the towel he’d abandoned as she swiped the now thoroughly rinsed hair out of her face.
He stood with his hip propped against the counter, taking up most of the space in the flat’s tiny kitchen, watching her. He had his arms folded over his chest which added even more definition – as if they needed it – to his spectacular pecs and the smooth bulge of his biceps beneath the black T-shirt. The sparkle of mockery only made the pure iridescent blue of his irises more vivid.
‘One hundred percent, sure?’ she asked, flirting shamelessly with him, because what the hell? He was beautiful and beyond fit and in her kitchen and she didn’t have anything else pressing to do right this second – other than save a failing art-house cinema from catastrophic debts. ‘I would hate for you to do a half-arsed job and lose out on the impressive tip I was intending to give you.’
His lips quirked, but then he unfolded his arms and ran his thumb down the side of her face. ‘Don’t tempt me, Ruby,’ he said, the wry amusement all the more compelling because the sparkle of amusement in his eyes had faded. ‘I’ve been sporting a boner the size of the Empire State with your name on it for the last five minutes.’
The hot spot between her thighs ignited.
‘Don’t look,’ he said, gripping her chin and holding her head up, just as she went to check out the veracity of his statement.
She tried to wriggle free. ‘No fair,’ she said, but he held firm. ‘I need to see the evidence.’
She managed to jerk her chin out of his grasp, but just as she attempted to dip her gaze, he stepped into her personal space, bracketing her waist and pressing his hips to hers to hide himself from her view.
