Читать книгу Wear My Ring - Kate Hardy - Страница 11

LATER that night, when the lift doors closed several minutes after Paige had pressed the button for the eighth floor, she leant against the wall, getting herself comfortable for the ride ahead of her.

The second she closed her eyes, the picture projected onto the backs of her lids was the view of Gabe Hamilton as he’d walked away. All long strong legs and loping sexy strides. The thought of him made her tingle all over. Like static, only … hotter.

As it turned out, whatever she thought of Gabe Hamilton’s scruples about flirting with a possibly engaged woman, she hadn’t imagined the spark. It was there, in the directness of his gaze. The purpose in his smile. He knew he was gorgeous and wasn’t above using it to get what he wanted. And if she had even half a sense about such things, he wanted her.

Paige crossed her legs at the ankle and slid her thumb between her front teeth and nibbled for all she was worth.

She’d never been one of those girls who went after men who looked as if they sinned a dozen times a day and twice on Sundays. Sure, she could appreciate the appeal. The desire to tame the untameable. But she’d seen the emotional destruction a man with that kind of concentrated charm left in his wake. And while she wasn’t a big believer in happy endings, more than that she was determined never to act in such a way as to have an unhappy one.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t dated any good guys of late either. The why of it niggled at a shadowy corner of her brain, as if it should be more obvious. But while her head filled with thoughts of Gabe Hamilton, and his hot hand and hotter eyes, she was finding it hard to think straight at all.

She pulled herself upright, shook out her hands, and paced around the lift.

The sorry truth was, she’d met enough ‘good guys’ who turned out to be jerks in the end anyway. So wouldn’t it be better to know a guy was trouble from the outset? Wouldn’t it be easier to protect herself if she knew up front exactly what she was in for? Wouldn’t it be something to let go and open up to all that sinful, seductive intensity just once?

Her eyes scrunched tight and she stopped pacing.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Gabe Hamilton didn’t seem like a jerk. He seemed … focused. Sexy as all get out. More than a little bit intimidating. And by his own admission, he was only in town for a bit. Which was a plus. Maybe the biggest plus of all. She wasn’t after a relationship with the guy. Just a safe place to dip her toes into the dating pool. A kiss. Maybe a little messing about. Or a good and proper tumble.

She sucked in a deep breath and let it go.

Anyway, she didn’t have to decide that night. She had till Friday at the very least to think about it, so long as they never shared the lift in that time. Not that it had ever done right by her before.

When the lift made its first stop she twirled her hair over one shoulder, stifled a yawn, glanced at the number to check which floor besides the eighth she’d landed on, then realised the lift had taken her to the top. To the penthouse.

She slowly stood to attention, her hands tight on her purse in an attempt to get a grip on the sensual wave rising through her knowing Gabe Hamilton was close. And with everything she had she willed the lift to descend.

But the lift being the lift, the doors slid open, and stayed open, leaving her standing staring into a large dark entrance boasting two shiny black double doors leading to the only apartment on the floor, one of which bumped as the handle twisted.

Paige shrank to the back of the lift, but there was no hiding. Every last wisp of air bled from her lungs as Gabe stepped through the doorway.

He looked up, saw her, and stopped. A muscle worked in his jaw. It was a testament to how her senses were working nineteen to the dozen that she even noticed that tiny movement, considering what the guy was wearing. Or not wearing, to be more precise.

Pyjama bottoms. Long, soft, grey-checked pyjama bottoms. And nothing else. After that it was like a freeway collision inside her head, the way the gorgeous bits of him piled on top of one another. The deep tan that went all over. The large bare feet. The hair, all mussed and rugged. Arms that looked strong enough to lift a small car. A wholly masculine chest with the kind of muscle definition no mere mortal had the right to possess. And a happy trail of dark hair arrowing beneath his pyjama bottoms …

‘Paige?’ he said, his devil-deep voice putting her knees on notice.

‘Hey,’ she croaked back.

‘I heard the lift.’

‘And here it is.’ Going for unflappable, she cocked a hip and waved a hand towards the open doors like a game-show hostess. She failed the moment the heat rising through her body pinked across her cheeks.

A hint of a smile gathered in Gabe’s dark eyes, tilting his gorgeous mouth. ‘Did you want me for something?’

‘Did I want you—? No. No.’ She laughed only slightly hysterically. ‘I was heading home, but the lift, it—’

‘Brought you here of its own accord.’

‘It’s contrary that way.’

‘So you’ve said,’ he said, planting his feet and crossing his arms across his chest, a broad, brown, beautiful mass of rises and falls that brought a flash flood to the desert that had been her mouth.

Paige dragged her eyes to the huge starburst on the ceiling as she said, ‘It’s late and you must have things to do, bags to unpack, sleep to catch up on.’

He slowly shook his head. ‘I’m used to living out of a bag. And for some reason I’m not all that tired right now.’

‘I could be here a while.’

He leaned against the doorjamb. ‘Or you could come in.’

The blood thundered so hard and fast through her she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right. ‘Come in?’

‘I can tell you everything I know about Brazil.’

Paige blinked. Simply unable to find the words to—

‘And I have doughnuts.’

And at that she laughed. Loud. Nervous energy pouring from her in waves. ‘Well, that’s original. I mean, I’ve been offered “coffee” before of course. Even a good old-fashioned nightcap on occasion. But never doughnuts.’

He watched her, all dark, and leaning and so much man. Her mouth now watering like Niagara Falls, she swallowed again before saying, ‘What is a nightcap anyway? Sounds like it should be one of those Wee Willie Winkie hats with the pompom on the end—’

‘Paige.’

‘I …’ Her eyes slid to his naked chest as if they’d stayed too long away. ‘I feel overdressed for doughnuts.’

‘Only one way to fix that.’

She realised then that he’d moved aside so that the way through his open front door was clear. Inviting.

Her body waved towards the open lift doors, gripped with a desire to step across that threshold and into the arms of one big hot male, but she caught herself at the last second. She couldn’t. Could she? She’d met him that morning, for Pete’s sake. Knew nothing about him other than his name, address and occupation—Okay, so that was pretty standard. As for the way he made her feel—as if she were melting from the inside out—by looking at her?

The lift binged, the doors began to close, and Paige slipped through the gap, the bump and hum of the lift descending without her echoing through her shaking limbs. Other than that the dark foyer was perfectly quiet. No music. Just the sound of her shaky breath sliding past her lips.

She’d have a doughnut. Get to know him a little. Maybe even grab him at the last for a goodnight kiss. She could handle a guy like Gabe for one night if that was what it took to find her dating legs again; legs that wobbled like a marionette’s as she made her way to his door.

She held her breath as she slipped past him but there was no avoiding that complex masculine scent radiating from his warm naked skin.

Inside, the apartment was darker still. When he went towards the raised kitchen, Paige headed in the opposite direction where cloud-shrouded moonlight spilled through the wall of ceiling-to-floor windows. And he hadn’t been lying when he’d said there was nothing to unpack. In fact there wasn’t much of anything at all.

No lamps, only the light of an open laptop on the kitchen bench. No pictures on the walls. Not even a big-screen TV. Just a couch, a long, sleek L-shaped thing that could fit twenty. And it looked out over the stunning water view, as if the inside of the apartment was irrelevant.

Which maybe, to him, it was. In her experience a man who refused to stamp his own personality on a place wasn’t connected to it. Or those living in it with him. Hence the unrestrained frippery of the home she grew up in. If a home was where the heart was, then Gabe Hamilton’s heart was most definitely not in that apartment. Probably not even in her home city. And while in the past that would have been enough to turn her on her heel without looking back, her heart began to race.

‘Not a big fan of decor?’ she asked, glancing across to find him in the raised kitchen where a single muted down-light now played over his naked torso, making the absolute most of his warm brown skin. He loomed over a huge white box that did, in fact, contain doughnuts. ‘Or furnishings in general?’

He looked around as if he hadn’t noticed how bare the place was. ‘I don’t spend my weekends antiquing, if that’s what you mean.’

‘You don’t have to go that far, but you could do with a dining table. Some kitchen stools. A throw cushion or two.’

‘I’d bet my left foot that no man ever looked back on his life and regretted a lack of throw cushions,’ he rumbled.

‘But they’re like garnish on a dinner plate. You don’t need it to make the meal, but that splash of colour makes your mouth water all the same.’

To that he said nothing, just watched her across the darkness, and her own mouth had never watered as much in her entire life.

‘Is it just me, or is it hot in here?’ she asked, peeling off her shirred blazer, her knobbly scarf, and throwing them over the back of a couch.

‘Air-con’s on heat blast. I’m acclimatising.’

Her eyes fell onto a plate of doughnuts he was piling high. She edged towards the scent of sugar. And him. ‘Turn the heat down and put on a sweater. Much more comfortable.’

‘For who?’

For her clearly. She’d been inside his place for less than two minutes and already a drop of sweat slid between her shoulder blades, trickled down her spine, and pooled in the dent at the bottom of her back.

As for him? His gaze lingered on her cream silk top, hovered over the minuscule spaghetti straps, then swept down her bare arms. Paige fought the urge to cross her arms across her chest, as even in the sweltering room her nipples contracted to aching peaks.

‘Nah,’ he said as his eyes moseyed back up to hers, ‘I like the heat.’

Leaving the doughnuts to the elements, Gabe edged around the island, his dark eyes locked onto her. Heart pounding, she backed up a step, and her backside hit the couch.

‘Would you prefer I turn it down?’ he asked, his voice dropping as he neared.

God, no, she thought. By the twitch at the corner of his beautiful mouth, she realised she’d clearly said it out loud. Bad habit. Must break.

He moved closer, and, breathing deep, she caught his wholly masculine scent that made her certain he could change a tyre, and build a fire, and wrestle a shark all before breakfast and not break a sweat.

And she knew. There would be no doughnuts that night. There would be no lines drawn, or contracts agreed upon. Her world contracted until all she knew was moonlight, heat, breath, her throbbing pulse. And Gabe. Half naked, his dark gaze searing into hers.

Then, right when she thought she might die from the tension coiling within her, he took one last long step and his big hand was in her hair, and his hot mouth was on hers.

Explosions went off behind her eyes, beneath her skin, deep in her belly until her whole body was awash with heat that had nothing to do with the sweltering air.

Her hands were in his hair gouging tracks in the lush softness. Her leg was wrapped around his. Her body arcing into him as every part of her that could meld with his did.

She felt his smile against her mouth. A smile of pure and utter conquest. She nipped at his bottom lip. Take that.

He stilled, all that strength bunching, waiting, compounding. In the stillness his heat beat against her skin. The energy coursing through his veins found a matching beat in hers. Every sense was on a delectable high.

When the wait for retribution became too much, she rolled against him. Softly. Fitted herself along his length. Purposefully. Slid her hands to the back of his head, and her tongue across his bottom lip, tasting the tender spot she’d bitten.

This, she thought. This was what she’d needed. This raw release. Who needed promises? Who needed commitment? Of all times for her friend to pop into her head, this was not a winner. Clint joined Mae as they smiled at one another in that gooey way they had when they thought nobody was watching. In fact, they didn’t really care who was watching, they were too busy watching one another.

Paige shook her head in an effort to remove the image from her mind, and the usual dull ache it had created deep in her belly.

As if he sensed her retreat, Gabe closed his big strong arms around her, wrapping her in heat and muscle and might. He pressed her back and kissed her slow and deep until she was nothing bar a flood of sensation pouring hot and thick through her whole body. His scent curled itself about her, warm, spicy, mouth-watering, until she couldn’t remember what her mouth tasted like before it tasted like him.

This. The word whispered through her again.

And things only got better from there for a really long time. As he found the sweet spot below her right ear, sucking her skin into his hot mouth. The hollow at the base of her neck with his tongue. The line of lace where the edge of her bra met swollen sensitive skin. Until her mind was a haze. Her body pure vibration.

She groaned in frustration as his lips were gone from hers, but then his arm slid beneath her legs and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, her breath shooting from her lungs as light, bright, startled laughter.

When her eyes found his, dangerous and intense, the laughter dried up in her throat, the pleasure of it trickling down to her toes.

She bumped in his arms as he kicked open what must have been the bedroom door. Then he stopped so fast she gripped on tighter so as not to fly out of his arms.

‘Dammit,’ he said. Followed by a whole slew of words worthy of any pirate.

‘Problem?’

He slid her down his body, his hardness giving her no doubt he was as deep in this thing as she was. Then he took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she could see into his bedroom.

It was huge, half the size of her whole apartment. Gorgeous window mouldings and cornices, with another fabulous art deco sun-burst in the centre of the high ceiling. Occupational hazard, it took her half a second to imagine a reading lamp and great chair in the near corner. A small antique desk with enough room for his laptop below the wide window. Lush dark curtains pooling on the shiny floor. None of which were there.

But decor and character weren’t the only things the room was lacking.

It had no bed.

A small sound of desperation escaped her lips as her eyes roved quickly over the scrunched-up blankets on the floor, none of which looked terribly conducive to the kind of action her poor neglected body was screaming for.

She swore beneath her breath. Or at least she thought she had. The rumble of laughter at her back told her she’d said it out loud. Again.

Then his hand slid around her waist, tucked beneath her top, and found her sensitive stomach. She melted against him, against the hardness pressed against her backside. He swept her hair aside and his teeth grazed her shoulder and if she hadn’t pressed her thighs together she’d have orgasmed on the spot.

She spun in his arms, her hands finding his firm chest. His body filled her view, blocking out any light that dared come between them. His face was all darkness and shadows, his skin like a furnace, his scent like pure testosterone. Instinct had her swaying back, only to find herself up against the doorjamb.

‘Gabe …’ Paige said, her spine merging with the line of the doorway.

His hand landed on the doorjamb above her head. She breathed out. Slow, shaky, every ounce of oxygen leaving her body until she was weak with desire. Heat licking and trembling at her core. She couldn’t feel her feet. Could feel the beat of his heart against her palms all the way in the backs of her knees.

Her chest felt tight, her lungs dysfunctional. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hang onto her self-control. But if she pulled back now, how long till she had such a chance again? If she turned away from this, she might as well buy a cat, get a blue rinse and be done with men for ever.

She curled her fingers and traced her nails through the crisp dark hair of his chest. Pressed her lips gently to his flat nipple, before tracing it with her tongue. Her hands, getting greedy now, roved over the bumps of his six-pack, the hard muscles at his hips, over what turned out to be a damn fine example of male backside.

Something close to a roar escaped Gabe’s mouth as his fingers curled into her hair and tugged, sending her head sliding down the vertical strip of wood. Then his mouth found hers, any gentleness or exploration gone, his lips and tongue making a joke of any last resistance she might have had.

He tucked his fingers beneath the strap of her top, sending it cascading down her arm, revealing the lacy half-cup of her bra. His eyes, dark as night, watched as his palm cupped her breast, then his thumb ran over the dark centre. Chills running up and down her body, she pressed her feet into the floor and she bit her lip so as not to cry out.

His hand found her hip, his thumb swirling over her belly button. Then before she knew it her jeans were unbuttoned, the zip sliding open one tooth at a time. Paige’s hands went to Gabe’s hips, grabbing on for dear life as his big hand slid inside her pants, cupping her. Then he slid a slow, strong finger along the seam of her underwear.

She bucked as a shot of the most exquisite pleasure pierced her, blocking out every other sensation.

Then his mouth was on hers again, taking her blissful agony and doubling it. Trebling it. Turning her thoughts to mere threads swirling in a wash of liquid heat as a finger curled beneath the hem of her underwear, dipped inside her, sending wave after wave of shock and awe through her.

Her body no longer her own, she strained towards him. The perfect insistent slide of his finger. Then two. Melting from the inside out as blood roared in her ears, all sensation rushed to her centre, and, with a cry stifled as her mouth pressed against his shoulder, she came. A riot of hot waves buffeting her from scalp to toes, again and again, before finally diffusing to a warm delicious hum.

Her skin was slick with sweat. Her lips tasted of salt. Her knuckles ached from the clench of her fingers at Gabe’s hips.

Her eyes opened sluggishly as her top slid back up her torso, at the scrape of a fingernail as her strap hooked back over her shoulder. No. No! What was he doing? Even through the haze of afterglow she knew they weren’t done. Not by half!

Her focus landed on his eyes to find them lit by a slow burn that turned her mouth dry. She traced her thumbs into the waistline of his pants and he stopped her, his expression almost pained. His voice was subterranean when he asked, ‘Do you have protection?’

And she felt the floor drop out from under her.

It had been months, literally, since she’d needed a condom. Or even thought to put it on her shopping list; that was how dry her spell had been. She was on the pill of course, but she’d known this guy less than a day.

She must have looked as disappointed as she felt as Gabe’s forehead thunked against the wood, his breath shooting hot and hard over her shoulder, creating fresh goose bumps in its wake. ‘The closest chemist is three blocks from here.’

‘If I go outside in this state I’ll be arrested.’

‘Or there’s the stacked brunette on six.’

With palpable effort, Gabe pulled back. His dark eyes connecting with hers, the intensity coming at her making her knees buckle. ‘What about her?’

‘She looks the kind of girl who might have a permanent stash of such … accessories.’

After a few moments of quiet, Gabe burst out laughing. ‘Not quite the impression I want to make on the neighbours, door-knocking at one in the morning with a hard-on and a request for condoms.’

Condoms, she thought. Plural. Good God.

‘No,’ she said, licking her suddenly dry lips. ‘I suppose not. Even if you are only in town for a little while?’

Gabe’s dark eyes seared into her as if he was actually considering it. Then after one hard breath in and out, he took her by one finger and dragged her in his wake, away from the cruel temptation of his under-utilised bedroom and back into his big under-decorated home where he gathered her clothes.

‘Gabe?’ she said, half apology, half despair.

He shooshed her with a glance that told her he was barely controlling himself as it was. She bit her lip and kept quiet.

Once at the lift he redressed her until she had a semblance of decency. ‘In case the lift stops on another man’s floor,’ he said, the gleam in his eyes making it clear he didn’t believe her story for a second. ‘Wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.’

‘But—’

The lift opened. His jaw tightened and Paige was sure he was about to kiss her again. Her lips opened, her breath hitched, her skin came over all hot and tingly. But he turned her on the spot and gave her a little shove inside. ‘Scram. Before I start something neither one of us will be able to stop.’

Compared with his apartment, the inside of the lift was freezing cold. She crossed her arms across her chest to hold in the warmth. To hold in the delicious fizzing in her blood. The wonderful heaviness between her legs.

What to say? Sorry? Thanks? See you around? In the end neither of them said anything, they just watched each other as the lift doors closed.

She slumped against the wall—her legs no longer able to support her—slapped a hand over her eyes and shook her head. What had happened? She’d broken her drought, that was what. And how! As the lift took her to the lobby and back a half-dozen times Paige relived every hot, rash second of it to make sure.

When the lift finally opened at her floor, she breathed out a long shuddering sigh of relief. Considering how her day had begun, she couldn’t possibly have hoped to negate that disaster so soon. But she had.

Hopefully now her life could get back to normal.