Читать книгу The Dare Collection: February 2018 - Anne Marsh - Страница 15
ОглавлениеLIBBY’S HEAD ROSE and sank with the movement of Alex’s chest as his breaths slowed. His warm fingers traced small circles on her back, his legs entwined with hers, and his heartbeat thumped under her cheek, which was glued to his sweat-damp skin.
It was way too intimate, but her heavy limbs refused to move—as if they’d run a marathon and gone on strike. And in a way they had. This week was a whirlwind of life in the fast lane so far.
‘I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly today.’
His sleepy voice rumbled in his broad chest, his chest hairs tickling her nose.
‘I understand. Is your mother okay?’
He drew in a breath that seemed unending, the gust of his prolonged exhalation blowing strands of her now wild hair onto her face. His fingers swooped in, pushing the hair back from her forehead and rectifying the situation.
‘She drinks sometimes. Too much. She’s never really got over losing Jenny.’
The weight of his confession pressed Libby even further into the mattress and her breath stalled. Should she pry? He wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t want to talk, right?
‘What happened to your sister?’ She held her breath.
His fingers returned to the small of her back, their tips gliding round and round in a hypnotic pattern. ‘She had epilepsy.’
Libby waited, still and quiet, so as not to break the confessional spell.
‘Around six hundred people per year die of sudden unexpected death in epilepsy. It’s called SUDEP for short.’ His fingers on her back stilled. ‘She was eighteen.’
His matter of fact tone contrasted with the increase in his breathing and the renewed thud of his heart.
‘I’m sorry that happened to your family. It must have been a terrible time.’
‘For my parents, yes. It essentially destroyed their marriage. The blame game. The what ifs. Although theirs had been a rocky marriage for years prior to my sister’s death.’
His hand resumed its stroking.
‘Do you like weddings?’
The change of subject was so abrupt Libby lifted her head to stare at him, her neck muscles jarring. What could she say? He’d opened up to her this evening—not that it was part of their deal—but she wasn’t ready to do the same. What was the point? This was temporary. A holiday away from reality. Less than a fling—a business merger, brokered and negotiated. Just sex.
She trained her features to stay neutral, swallowing back the acid in her throat. ‘Who doesn’t?’
She shifted, untangling herself from his warmth and his long, muscular limbs. She sat on the bed with her back to him, reaching for a robe and shrugging it on. A shield.
‘Do you want to go to one? My cousin Isabel is marrying in France this weekend. We should have met her brother, Jack, today. The architect I told you about.’
Libby swallowed. That itchy, impatient feeling was back, making her restless. ‘You can’t invite a stranger to a family wedding.’
‘Why not?’
His fingers continued to work their magic, circling lazily on the curve of her hip. Even through the cotton his touch carried a potency that made her weak.
‘You’d be my plus one. Jack and Isabel’s grandfather owns a château near Nice. Ever been to the south of France?’
‘No. But that’s not the point.’
His hand slipped under the robe, locating the lace of her panties at her hip. The glide of his fingertips distracted her racing mind.
‘Is it that you don’t like my chopper?’
Her lips twitched. The sight of him, relaxed, playful, a self-satisfied grin on his decadent mouth as he sprawled naked on her bed, soaked the panties he was now burrowing inside.
She needed to change the subject. Fast.
She forced her features into a stern glare. ‘What’s on the adrenaline agenda for tomorrow?’
His grin widened, as if he sensed her diversion tactics. ‘Jet boating. On the Thames. I need to be back in London.’
His probing fingertips traced the crease of her groin, his knuckles brushing the crotch of her panties.
She rolled her eyes, biting her lip to contain the swell of excitement.
‘I have plenty of work to catch up on too. My latest client is super-demanding.’
Why didn’t she just push his hand away? Kick him out of her hotel room?
‘He is?’
He pressed down on her clit through the damp fabric, stilling her breath. His voice dropped an octave. Was that a hum of satisfaction? At finding her wet?
‘I thought he was super-accommodating.’
Her gaze flicked down his ripped chest and abdomen to the thickening cock on his thigh.
‘If you want to scrap the thrill-seeking we could both get some work done.’
Cool speech had become increasingly difficult, and the words emerged slow and sluggish.
He grinned, one fingertip circling. ‘But the adrenaline is the best part. And what about our deal?’
Libby spread her thighs a fraction. She needed more. Wanted more. Mention of the deal had returned her equilibrium. No more talk of weddings.
He sprang up from his slouch, gripping her waist and expertly tumbling her under him. Air slammed from her. His face, an inch above hers, had lost its playfulness.
‘Come jet boating tomorrow.’
His thighs slotted between her legs, spreading her open. His teeth caught his bottom lip and he pressed his erection to the damp lace separating them.
Her robe had fallen open. His fingers curved under her bra straps, tugging them over her shoulders as his mouth trailed kisses over the tops of her breasts.
His argument was persuasive. She breathed out an, ‘Okay…’
He tugged one bra cup lower, exposing a nipple to his voracious mouth, and then he lifted his head, eyes wicked. ‘Good. Because I was about to ask you what you want.’
Although his wandering mouth made speech difficult, she told him—and he complied.
Something tickled Libby’s shoulder, her thigh, the back of her neck… Groggy, she stirred aching limbs.
Warm, minty breath brushed her earlobe.
‘Wake up, beautiful. It’s time to fly.’
Alex.
She cracked open one eye to find her hotel room in darkness. ‘Time is it?’ She flipped onto her back to see him dressed, his hair damp, presumably from the shower.
‘Early. My chopper awaits.’
He pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, his lips soft and languorous. Despite his chiding, his eyes were playful.
She groaned, her arms looping around his neck and pulling him down. ‘Come back to bed.’
He chuckled into her neck. ‘I’d love to. But adventure calls.’
His hand slipped under the covers again, fingers sliding up her thigh and zeroing in on her clit so her eyes popped open and she squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand.
‘Thanks for not kicking me out, by the way.’
His lips brushed her ear, her neck, and the sexy rumble of his voice thrummed through her nipples in time with his exploring fingertips.
‘My creeping-around-like-a-teenager days are over. Skulking out of my own hotel at three in the morning would have been highly embarrassing.’
She sobered.
She should have kicked him out. Shouldn’t have invited him back to bed. Snuggling, sleeping together, waking up to his mouth on her—not part of the deal.
Batting away his hand, she shot out of bed. ‘Do I have time for a shower?’
She ignored his slightly bewildered expression, which heated as it travelled over her naked form. ‘Yes. But if you don’t want company in there I suggest you hurry. I had hoped to wake you up with my mouth between your legs, but I took pity on you. You were out of it.’
Libby swallowed. Both images—her drooling in her sleep and him waking her with his spectacular oral skills—sent her heart fluttering behind her ribs.
She dived into the bathroom, flicking on the shower and jumping in before he could make good on his word or before she relented and surrendered.
She almost jumped through the glass cubicle when he said, ‘So, about this wedding…’
He lounged in the doorway, and Libby was grateful for the frosted glass.
‘Do you mind? Some privacy, please.’ She poured shampoo into her hair, glaring at his smirking face.
His gaze took one last, lazy tour. ‘I’ve touched most of your body with my tongue, inside and out, and now you want privacy?’
‘Yes.’
Infuriating man. Bathroom-sharing was definitely not part of their relationship.
He shrugged and moved just behind the door, so he could no longer see her but she could still see his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He raised his voice over the sound of the spray. ‘I don’t usually have to beg for dates. You’re crushing my ego.’
Now he’d mentioned the ‘D’ word she definitely couldn’t go. Even though she’d never been to France. It was on her wish list. Not that she took holidays any more.
‘Go away.’
He laughed. ‘Aside from the journey there, I promise no daredevil stuff.’
‘Weddings are for families.’
Damn, she’d already used that argument.
‘I told my mother about you and she thinks you should come too.’
Shampoo ran into her eyes and she winced. ‘You told your mother about me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ Without the non-verbal cues, it was difficult to know what he was thinking.
‘She needed cheering up. Her second husband is American. She’d love to meet you.’
Libby stepped from the shower, shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a fluffy, white towel.
‘I’ll think about it.’
Her heart wasn’t in this argument. She blamed the remnants of jet lag and last night’s lack of sleep. But she had no intention of going to his cousin’s wedding or meeting his family.
She fastened the towel around her chest and stuck her head through the doorway.
‘Aren’t you too tired to fly?’
There was no way she’d get in that contraption again if he felt under par.
His gaze gave her the once over. ‘Nope. I’m good.’
‘Because, strictly speaking, a helicopter ride and jet boating counts as two activities.’
He stepped closer, eyes predatory. ‘Will it cost me?’ His hands found her hips, fingers clenching in the thick towel that scraped her sensitive skin.
She leaned closer, her lips tingling to taste him. ‘Yes…’ A whisper. This close to him she could barely think, let alone negotiate.
His eyes gleamed. ‘I look forward to it.’
He smacked a quick kiss on her lips, leaving her reeling, and headed for the door.
‘You have ten minutes to dress that sexy body of yours.’
With a cocky wink, he was gone.
One hour and one hair-raising helicopter trip later, Libby found herself back at Waterloo, on the banks of the Thames, squished into a life jacket. She’d assumed he had a jet boat and that it would be a private ride. He did, of course, own a jet boat—but he’d booked them into a tourist ride. Apparently this added to the ‘fun’.
Alex squeezed her hand. ‘You okay?’
She nodded, incapable of voicing any of the tart replies queued up on her tongue. Why put herself through this? Why didn’t she tell him to stuff his high-profile account up his gloriously muscular behind?
Trouble was, now she’d experienced his sexual prowess the stakes were higher than the deal being simply good for business. And, despite her reservations, the exhilaration and serenity of the balloon ride had been an experience she’d never forget.
He smiled—half-mocking, half-indulgent—and scooped her close with his arm around her rigid shoulders. His lips grazed the top of her head, her forehead, her temple.
‘You’re perfectly safe. This skipper is the most experienced. Wait until you see their reactions.’ He tilted his head in the direction of the other participants, lined up on the dock. ‘Feel the sheer thrill of it yourself. I want to make this affordable and accessible for my kids. They’ll love it.’
Libby looked at him. Saw him clearly as if for the first time. Excitement glinted in his eyes, transforming their colour from dark chocolate to amber, and his hair lifted in the wind, giving him a boyish air, incongruous with the powerful, urbane man she knew him to be.
And he practically vibrated with energy. He’d called them ‘my kids’. This venture fed his soul.
A pang of jealousy rolled in Libby’s stomach. It had been a long time since anything had fed her own withered soul. A strict diet of hard work and trigger avoidance had left her seriously malnourished in recent years. She’d pushed aside her own passions, blocking out anything that made her remember Callum, the life she’d planned with him, happier times…
Her reverie came to a halt as she followed Alex to the front of the sleek powerboat. He’d commanded the best seats in the house. The ones with a direct view of the ride ahead and in line with the inevitable faceful of Thames river spray.
Libby pressed frigid lips together. ‘You owe me big-time for this,’ she muttered as she took her seat, her hands gripping the icy handrail in front.
He laughed, tugging her closer to whisper, ‘Why doesn’t that feel like any kind of hardship at all?’
Before she could formulate a tart reply, the engine fired up and they were off.
It had been a long time since she’d had so much fun.
The boat bumped along, taking her stomach for the ride, and she had a unique view from her vantage point of the iconic landmarks lining the Thames. The infectious screams and laughter of those sharing the journey added to the excitement as he’d predicted. Alex gripped her hand tightly, his face full of laughter every time the boat lurched and she screamed.
By the time she was safely back on dry land she already craved a repeat performance.
Alex kissed her, their wet cheeks sliding, cold lips clinging around their mutual grins. ‘Told you.’
‘You were right. Must suck, being you.’
He sobered, unclipping the straps on her life jacket and then removing his own.
‘Sadly, I have some work to do this afternoon.’ He brushed a wet lock of hair from her face, his palm warm and dry against her hot skin. ‘I need to play the boss for a few hours.’
His scorching stare told her he’d rather do all the erotic things currently running through her dirty mind, but then he seemed to take command of himself.
She nodded. ‘I could work.’
She had stacks to do. For him…for her other accounts. Why did that admission carry less reward than it had a week ago? She lived for work. This job in particular would be incredibly lucrative in professional kudos. Why was playing hooky with the charming, contradictory CEO so much fun?
He took her hand, turning them away from the dock. ‘Work it is. I’d like you to put together a short presentation, if that’s okay—of the ethos behind Able-Active.’
She nodded, her mind racing with ideas.
‘I think I’ve given you enough of a taste to know what we’re about.’
‘Okay.’
‘And, if you’re free, I’m hosting a gathering for possible benefactors and investors tomorrow evening. Hopefully my speech and your presentation will help them part with some cash.’
As she followed Alex to the sleek car waiting for them the thrill of sitting at her desk, even working on such a worthwhile project, carried far less weight than it should.
A very worrying turn of events.
