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He doesn’t move, though. Is he thinking about the fact that my brother said he could trust him? Rebelliousness flares inside me. We’re young, and we’re single—why shouldn’t we get together? It’s nobody else’s business.
I don’t want him to turn me down, but one of us has to make the move, and I know he’s fighting with his principles. It’s going to have to be me. Fucking hell, Heidi, just go for it. What have I got to lose? My dignity? I think I lost that with him when I was sixteen and asked him if he’d like to kiss me.
Mind you, it worked then…
My pulse racing, I move a bit closer to him, then slide my hands up his chest to hold his lapels. “Do you want me?” I ask, my voice husky with longing.
He looks down at me, his eyelids sliding to half-mast. “You know I do.”
Oh thank God. “I wasn’t sure,” I admit.
“I’ve thought about little else since I arrived at your cottage.” He lifts a hand to stroke my cheek and sighs as if saying it out loud has made it real. “I don’t know what it is… I mean, you’re beautiful, and funny, and intelligent… but it’s not just that. There’s something between us, and every time I try to tell myself there isn’t, it flares up again like a firework.”
“Oh…” I’m so relieved he feels the same way, it almost makes me tearful.
He lifts his other hand and cups my face as he continues, “I’m crazy about you. I know I should be strong and keep my distance, and the last thing I want to do is make things more difficult for you. But I can’t help it. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone—anything—so badly.”
My breath leaves me in a whoosh. “Kiss me,” I tell him. “Please.”
“Gladly,” he says, and he crushes his lips to mine.
Oh… it’s like I’m sixteen again, as we go from zero to a hundred in the space of about two seconds. Fire flares inside me as he delves his tongue into my mouth, and I moan and slide my hands down his jacket, flicking the buttons open. I feel an overwhelming desire to touch his skin, and I tug his shirt free from his trousers, then slip my fingers beneath it and stroke around his waist to his back.
“Jesus,” he says, “hold on.” He slides the key in the door and unlocks it, and we stumble into the dark house, barely managing to close the door before his mouth is on mine again.
While we kiss, he walks me backward along the hallway to the bedroom, while I slip my hands up his back under his shirt, loving the feel of his warm skin. When I graze my nails down the muscles on either side of his spine, he shudders.
It’s no good; I want to see that tanned, smooth skin and those glorious tattoos. I push his jacket off his shoulders, and he lowers his arms to let it fall to the floor. He hurriedly pulls his tie apart, and it joins the jacket. I set to undoing his shirt buttons, but my fingers fumble, and in the end he rips the sides apart, sending buttons popping off in all directions, bundles the shirt in a ball, and tosses it away. Ooh, he’s naked to the waist now, and even in the semi-darkness his tattoos are clearly visible, snaking down either arm.
He toes off his shoes and flicks off his socks, and I stop to take off my high heels, groaning as I flex my feet. Next he takes off his trousers, and now he’s only wearing a pair of tight black boxer-briefs that leave nothing to the imagination.
Holy moly. Hello, Sir Richard!
Kissing me again, he continues to walk me into the bedroom. It’s warm and a little stuffy in here. “Where’s the air con?” he asks.
“I doubt there will be any. It doesn’t usually warrant it.”
“We’ll just have to get hot and sweaty then,” he murmurs.
“What a shame.”
He chuckles, still moving me backward, over to the sliding doors. The curtains are open, but we haven’t put on the light, and I know nobody’s going to be out there looking in tonight.
He kisses me again, lips searing, sending fireworks shooting off inside me. Oh God, this is really happening. I run my fingers over the defined muscles of his chest, then up to his shoulders and down his arms across his tattoos. I think he’s used these magical runes to cast a love spell on me. I feel bewitched, entranced by his hot, damp skin and his fiery kisses.
“Do you have a zipper?” he murmurs, lifting his head, and I nod, turning around to show him. I feel his fingers at the nape of my neck, and then he slides down the zipper and pushes the lace shoulders of the dress off my shoulders. It falls to the floor in a rustle of material, and I step out of it.
While I’m still facing away from him, he moves me forward a few steps until I’m up against the sliding doors to the terrace, and I place my hands on the glass. I have a few seconds to register the beauty of the view, seeing where moonlight has turned the river into a sheet of silver, and then my eyes flutter closed as he rests his hands on my hips.
I’m braless and wearing only a pair of black lacy knickers and my sheer black thigh highs. He runs his hands over the lace stretched across my bottom, then follows the dip of my waist and the line of my ribs. Finally, he cups my breasts in his big, warm hands.
Tipping my head back on his shoulder, I sigh. He groans as he brushes his thumbs over my nipples, teasing them. Slowly, they tighten into firm buttons that he then tugs with his thumbs and forefingers.
Feeling an answering pull deep inside, I turn in his arms and lift up to kiss him, sliding my hands into his hair.
“I’m trying to go slowly,” he says huskily, kissing up my jaw to my ear, “but you’re not making it easy.”
“Good.” I shiver as he sucks my earlobe.
