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‘Seems Sam was pretty damn talkative about me.’ He rested his elbows on the table. Crowding her space a little more. ‘You should know, him and me, we’re not exactly bosom buddies, if you get my meaning.’
‘Yes, well, the fact that you and Sam aren’t bosom buddies is sort of a prerequisite for the skills he mentioned.’
‘Skills, huh?’ He pretended confusion.
But he knew exactly what she was referring to, because Della had delighted in telling anyone who would listen that was the only reason she’d married him. Della had found lots of ways to slap him down in public and in private—the Facebook revenge porn being just one. But this was the only smackdown that still stung. Knowing that the Park Avenue Princess who had flattered him once with her grace and sophistication had only hooked up with him—a kid from Brooklyn on a scholarship with lots of ambition, but not a heck of a lot else—because of his skills in the sack. Until this precise moment, it had made him feel cheap. But now...not so much.
‘Yes, skills.’ Tally placed her finger in her mouth and sucked off the alcohol—wiping his mind clear of his ex-wife. ‘Quite phenomenal skills, apparently. That I have to admit I am extremely intrigued by.’
He grinned, about as turned on as he’d ever been—without being naked. Bad girls had never been his thing. But he was beginning to see the appeal now. Big. Time. The woman’s confidence and her directness were powerful turn-ons.
Standing up, he gripped her upper arm and pulled her out of the booth until they were standing toe-to-toe. Far be it from him to turn down an invitation delivered with such open hunger.
Placing a hand on her hip, he dragged her against him. ‘You’re pretty forward, Tally. I always thought English girls were supposed to be shy and snooty.’
She peered up at him, excitement dancing in her eyes. ‘You’ve obviously been meeting entirely the wrong English girls.’
‘No shit.’ He rested his thumb on the delicate pulse in her neck. ‘How would you feel about taking this upstairs?’ He wanted to kiss that knowing smirk right off her face. But he didn’t dare do it until he had her somewhere private. ‘Before my huge—’ he lifted his brows and let her draw her own conclusions ‘—bursts right out of my pants.’
‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ She smiled, obviously enjoying the game as much as he was. ‘Especially if you expect me to catch it.’
‘You bet I do.’ He groaned and grasped her hand to lead her towards the elevators at the back of the bar that went to the hotel reception above—and keyed the concierge’s number into his phone.
A part of his mind was screaming at him that what he was doing was totally nuts. He’d only just met this woman, and he didn’t know anything about her. But for once that felt like a good thing. A great thing. Because no expectations meant no disappointments. All Tally wanted from him was good, honest—and hopefully really dirty—sex. And that was one thing he would have no problem delivering after four months on sabbatical.
As they stepped into the lift together, he booked the room, then arranged to have a bell-hop meet them upstairs with the key.
Damn, by tomorrow morning he was definitely going to owe Sam a kiss.
Chapter Four
#NewRule: Spontaneity is the spice of life...and can also add considerable firepower to hot sex in luxury hotel suites. #justsaying
‘Great, buddy, thanks.’ Brent handed the bell-boy a ten-pound note.
‘Enjoy yourselves, folks.’
Tally met the kid’s gaze as he winked at her and pocketed the generous tip.
Brent tugged her into the hotel suite and kicked the door closed in the kid’s face.
‘Cheeky little git,’ she whispered as Brent whirled her round and pressed her against the mirrored door. She got a fleeting glimpse of sleek modern furniture in red and brown tones—that looked masculine and decadent—before large hands swept under her dress to cup her buttocks.
‘Takes one to know one, Tally.’
She laughed as his lips captured hers. She stretched, thrusting the hard tips of her breasts into his chest. The large, solid ridge in his pants ground into her belly, making her heartbeat throb into her throat. She opened her mouth to take the kiss deeper and his tongue took control, dominant and seeking. He tasted of yeast beer and heat and determination.
Bingo.
The muscles of her abdomen tensed deliciously, his hands kneading her buttocks as he devoured her.
Yes, yes, yes, her mind yelled as her body wept with excitement, her thigh muscles releasing in a heady rush. Her fingers grasped his shirt, yanking the cool cotton out of his trousers. She flattened her palms against the war
m, silky skin beneath, absorbing the tremble of tension, the tantalising trail of hair arrowing down. But as her fingers edged beneath his waistband, ready to locate and exploit the treasure beneath, he reared back. Grasping hold of her wrists, he forced her arms up to pin her hands above her head.
‘Not so fast.’ The tilt of those sensual lips teased. ‘We need to discuss where this is going before we get past the point of no return.’
She bucked against his hold, but he simply pressed a thigh between her legs, holding her captive against the door.
