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‘I didn’t know if you’d agree.’ She shrugged those creamy, delightful shoulders and her breasts harumphed in unison. He lifted his hands, cupping them, just as he’d wanted to from almost the first moment he’d met her. Her eyes flecked with a whirlwind of need. ‘And if you did agree, well, suffice it to say, the logistics all seemed a little up in the air.’
‘And now?’
‘I suppose they still are.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I have to get back to work at some point. I actually didn’t think this through too well.’ She expelled a breath so her hair lifted, brushing her forehead gently. ‘Impulsiveness is my biggest downfall.’
‘From where I’m standing, it’s a virtue.’ She laughed softly and before he knew it, he was grinning like a fool. ‘Stay for the rest of the week.’ The words were out before he could stop them and panic tightened in his chest. But he quelled it quickly. After all, that was only a few days, and it didn’t mean they’d be spending every minute together. ‘I will still have to work, but your nights will be mine...’
She hesitated. Having already crossed to the dark side by betraying his best friend, he felt only a hint of compunction in going all the way—he squeezed her nipples, watching unashamedly as pleasure darkened her cheeks.
He sucked her lower lip between his teeth, wobbled it there then dropped his head to one of her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth and rolling it with his tongue. ‘This is not negotiable. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right, and that will take the week.’
The rest of the week! She felt giddy. She felt...a thousand and one things, actually. Relief, euphoria, delight, joy, satisfaction and hunger, all rolled into one. ‘It’s good to know the first time wasn’t a fluke, though.’
Mock outrage shifted his features. ‘You seriously thought it might have been?’
‘Sorry to offend your sexual prowess.’ She grinned, so he moved his attention back to her mouth, kissing her there, taking her breath away with each flick of his tongue until she saw stars.
‘Believe me, I relish the opportunity to continue proving you wrong.’
‘Or right. I’m not sure I actually thought it was a fluke, so much as I hoped that the repeat performance, if there even was a repeat performance, would live up to the experience.’
He laughed, a low, soft sound. ‘You really are quite unique.’
‘Why can’t you be more like your sister? More like other girls?’
She sobered a moment, sitting a little straighter, pressing a hand to his chest. The ridges of his scar edged beneath her fingertip. ‘What happened here?’
He didn’t answer and when she looked up at him, his face had changed. A small smile tilted his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes; it was an imitation, almost chilling. ‘A childhood misadventure.’
‘That you don’t want to talk about,’ she surmised. ‘I understand.’ She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the edges. She understood all about scars—but hers were the kind you couldn’t see. Nonetheless, they were scraped right across her heart and soul, and always would be. She didn’t particularly want to talk about those either.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it. It’s no big deal. I got in a fight.’
‘A fight you lost?’
‘A fight I won, though my opponent saw fit to arm himself with a broken beer bottle.’ He ran his own finger across the scar, a distracted look on his face, then lifted his finger to his neck, pointing to another scar, about an inch below his ear.
‘My God, it’s lucky he didn’t get a major vein or artery.’
He lifted his shoulders. ‘He didn’t. I survived.’
A shiver ran down her spine. ‘How old were you?’
‘Thirteen.’
Concern shifted through her. ‘Who was he?’ She could only think of her own father in that moment, and how often she’d been afraid as a child. Not that she’d ever seen him hit her mother, but the way he’d yelled and loomed over her—over them all—had filled the same space in her brain. She’d hatched a thousand and one plans of how she’d defend them if and when he turned violent. She’d lived with that fear until the day her father died.
‘Just some drunk.’
Sienna couldn’t help herself. She kissed the edge of his scar again, imagining being thirteen years old and attacked by a rambling, violent alcoholic. How was it possible? Where were his parents?
He took a step back, separating them, his face a mask of professional cool. ‘My driver is downstairs. He’ll let you into my place.’ Then, the cool gave way to fire, at least in his eyes, as he leaned forward, almost against his will, and kissed her. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can be.’
Sienna hadn’t thought far enough ahead to know how she’d handle things if he accepted her offer. She supposed she’d imagined getting a hotel room, but from the moment he’d suggested she go back to his place curiosity had overwhelmed her, and temptation too, so she’d simply nodded, even when alarm sirens had been sounding through her brain.
