Читать книгу Irresistibly Exotic Men: Bed of Lies / Falling For Dr Dimitriou / Her Little Spanish Secret - Laura Iding, Anne Fraser - Страница 13

Ten minutes later Beth stood in the kitchen in a T-shirt and army-green cargo pants, her hair slicked back into a damp ponytail. Luke watched her refill her glass from the kitchen sink, glance across at him then gulp down the water.

Still, he let the silence do all the talking, a technique that not only allowed him to observe her under pressure but also showed she was extremely uncomfortable with his singular scrutiny.

“Is the room okay?” she finally asked.

“Yes. Thanks.” Then he added, “Nice house. Lots of space.”

She nodded with a small smile. “That’s why I chose it. It’s the first place I’ve actually felt at home.”

A small pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Not a good sign, considering the snooping he’d done minutes before.

He’d rummaged through her filing system, her desk and behind the books in her living room, before quickly going through her bedroom. With reluctance dogging every step, he’d been about to give up until he’d hit the back of her wardrobe.

Just who was Taylor Stanton and why did Beth have her birth certificate buried in an old shoe box?

Before he could change his mind, he’d called his P.I. Dylan and relayed the details. Now, with Beth sitting across the table, his conscience took that moment to flare.

That’s stupid. It could mean nothing—in which case, she’d never have to know.

His neck began to ache again, sharp darts of pain stabbing his muscles.

First, he’d been suspended from his job then hounded from his apartment. He’d been rendered ineffective, like an illegal vehicle banned from the road. And now he’d resorted to spying. Unease sliced across his chest, but he clamped a lid on it, wrapping his fingers around the cup of coffee he’d prepared moments ago. The scalding heat was a welcome distraction.

“You know you’ll have to make a formal statement to the bank eventually,” he said.

She sighed. “I know.”

“And I made a few calls,” he said. “Unless we get the police involved, the real estate agent isn’t legally obliged to pursue this any further. So I’m getting a copy of the deed from the titles office, which should take a few days. In the meantime, I need to talk to my aunt.”

Beth made a noncommittal sound to cover up her nervousness. This would not do. As badly as she wanted him gone, he was equally determined to keep digging until everything was wrapped up to his satisfaction. But as she watched him brush back his hair with stiff fingers, a wave of reluctant sympathy swelled at the expression on his face. Something was going on here.

“You’re not happy about that.”

“Gino’s investigation may be over but not the fallout,” he said slowly. “Everyone’s running crazy—the lawyers, investors, my family. I’m not exactly Australian of the Year right now.”

“But you are innocent.”

His expression remained impassive. “So you don’t think I colluded to launder drug money from the casino through Jackson and Blair.”

She snorted. “No.”

Skepticism riddled his frown. “Why not?”

“Because of what I’ve seen today. You may be a pushy, overconfident alpha male—” she smothered a grin at his scowl “—but ironically, your ethics work in your favor. There’s no way you’d knowingly sabotage your reputation.”

If that brief look of surprise hadn’t spoken volumes, his silence did. She couldn’t help smiling now.

“I see,” was all he said.

Then he shook his head and swept a hand through his hair again, a gesture Beth was beginning to equate with pent-up frustration. The coal-black strands stuck up in spikes and she had the urge to smooth them down. Especially when she saw that flash of emotion in his eyes.

In that instant, Beth realized she’d just caught a glimpse of the real man behind the veneer—how his perceived failures ate at his pride, how much his status meant. How totally ineffective he must be feeling.

No wonder his reputation was perfect. He was a driven man and driven men often set impossibly high standards for themselves. And when they failed to live up to them, they frequently crashed to earth.

Something inside her shifted. She had to help him, even though he had something she so desperately wanted. Her compassion, her training, demanded no less.

“I can stop that ache in your neck, you know.”

He barely gave her a glance. “Can you?”

There it was again. More than anyone, Beth could understand his frustration. But right now he didn’t need empathy—he needed stress relief. She ticked off the telltale signs one by one and knew she couldn’t ignore his discomfort any longer.

She stood, reached over and firmly removed his hand from his nape. “Let me help you.”

The sudden heat flaring in his eyes disappeared as quickly as it started, yet despite that, it still had the power to warm her belly.

“It’s my job,” she clarified. “You’re no good to anyone burned-out, and I can help you relax.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do. Let me do this, Luke. Please.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Luke glanced away with a shrug. “Okay.”

And, dammit, her pulse began to pick up the pace.

“Go into the living room,” she said in a too-thick voice. “I’ll get my things.”

She hurried up to the spare room, determined to outrun the doubt dogging her footsteps. Right now was not the time to take a close look at her reasons for offering her help. She was a professional and she could do this, no matter that the body she was about to lay her hands on was six foot four inches of hard, warm male.

Beth returned with her oils and pulled the curtains closed, casting the room in half shadows, then pulled out a massage table from under the stairs and unfolded it.

He watched it all in silence.

“So I take it you’ve never had a therapeutic massage,” Beth said.

“Once, ages ago. Now I don’t have the time.”

“You should make time.”

“Before or after I solve world hunger?”

Her mouth tilted. “Take off your shirt and lie facedown.”

He did as he was told, settling his face into the cutout oval of the padded table. Now that his body was within her grasp, she would get to feel every contour, every crevice. A deep breath was needed.

Maybe another.

Pouring some oil onto her palms, she rubbed them together and began.

Her thumbs started gently at his lower back and Luke nearly leaped off the table. “What the hell …?”

He twisted, but Beth placed a restraining hand on his back. “Lie still.” She stifled a smile.

“But it hurts!”

“Stop being a baby.” She pushed him down and tried again, this time easing back on the pressure.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” he accused.

“I’m trying to get the tension out, so yes, I am.”

She went as softly as she could, warming up his muscles. She had to hand it to him, he managed to bite his tongue even though a few grunts made their way through his tight control.

“Do you get migraines?” she asked.

“No.”

“Panic attacks?”

“You think I get—”

“Performance problems?”

“No.”

She bit her lip, swallowing a chuckle at his indignant reply. “Lucky. They’re all symptoms of a high-stress environment.”

Luke stifled another groan. She was good. In fact, if they gave Oscars for massage, she’d win hands down. She had handfuls of his muscle and used pressure from thumbs, palms and all fingers.

“So how is it,” she began, digging deep into his back, “that some lucky woman hasn’t already snapped you up?”

A slice of memory twinged, but he thrust it back. “A demanding career and relationships don’t mix.”

“That’s a bit of a broad statement. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman.”

“Trust me, I know.” He grunted, swallowing a groan as she shifted her hands. “And I meet plenty of women.”

“I see.”

She continued in silence, and pride demanded he keep it that way, but when she caught a particularly tight spot, a hiss escaped his clenched teeth. And through the somewhat painful movements, he could feel himself getting aroused.

It was the thought of her standing over him, touching him with her firm, skilled hands that stirred his blood.

Then she reached his shoulders and silence flew out the window with a ragged gasp.

“You’re pretty tight up here,” she said, concern threading her voice.

Luke muttered something and tried to shake off the pleasant fantasy of Beth naked and massaging him all over. She shifted to stand at the head of the table, her body bent forward over his shoulders while her palms stretched and rubbed down his left arm. Her toes came into view—long, elegant digits with nails painted a soft coral, strapped into well-worn sandals. He also noticed that her second toes were longer than her big ones and the one on the left bore a silver ring with a green stone in the center.

Sucking on those toes would be …

He squeezed his eyes shut as she dug around for such long, agonizing seconds that he wondered if his circulation would cut out. Finally, she took pity on him, easing off until he relaxed with barely disguised relief.

“You should do this more often. It’ll hurt less.” She gently squeezed his trapezius and was rewarded with a sharp hiss. “See what I mean?”

He grunted.

Beth patted his shoulder. “Don’t try to talk. I know it’s a big effort holding all that groaning in.”

“I’m trying to maintain a dignified silence.”

She chuckled, bending close to his ear. “You don’t have to. Let it all out.”

Her whispery breath sent a shock of heat to his groin. Now all he could think of were their sweaty bodies, Beth groaning beneath him. And above him. All he could feel was the soft brush of her cotton shirt against his hair. And her hands touching every part of him. He itched to reach out and grab a handful of her luscious, rounded butt.

She was driving him crazy, as if punishing him for something.

He felt punished. It was retribution for letting the past weeks build up, for not seeking professional help sooner, just like Beth said.

She walked around the table, returning to his lower back, fingers trailing across his skin. Lust tensed him up. She must have felt it because she said, “No, no. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Tighten your lower back. Here.” Her hands began to knead the troubled spot. Luke groaned. It was a different kind of pain this time. His tight groin pressed unbearably against the unyielding table while his mind ran riot. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“You finished yet?” He finally got out.

“Hang on, I’ve still got to—”

“Thanks. That’s okay.” He pulled himself up, grabbed his shirt and yanked it over his head.

After a moment’s fumbling with the lower buttons, he took a breath, then another, before he got his body under control. And now with his untucked shirt hiding any lingering evidence, he turned back to face her. She looked astonished and confused while he ached uncomfortably. Dammit.

“I should go and get a shower.” Yet he made no attempt to leave.

“Okay.” Beth wiped her hands on a towel and tried not to let her disappointment show. He was uptight again and that pretty much kicked all her good work out the window.

She glanced at him, intending only to linger a moment but instead ended up staring. A faint sheen of sweat hugged the shirt to his chest, a chest sprinkled with dark hair that tapered down until the buttons hindered her view.

The breath she swallowed dried her throat.

He was a very large, very muscular man in a pair of crisply cut pants and a creased shirt that probably cost more than a week’s wages.

A dark, dangerous-looking man now focused right in on her as if she was some kind of last meal, the musky smell of his sweat and a faint, woodsy aftershave mingling with her oils.

“Beth?”

“Yes?” Her voice came out as an unfamiliar croak.

“If you’re going to stop me, do it now because I’m about to break rule number two.”

She swallowed as he took those few steps toward her, reached out and slowly tugged her to him, giving her time to protest. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She could pull away if she wanted, but resistance felt as appealing as wading through a pool of honey. It was as if he had her hypnotized and all she could do was let him drag his fingers through her hair. Sweep his thumbs over her jaw.

His eyes held hers, unwavering, hypnotic. His thumb pad deliberately caressed her bottom lip, rubbing against the soft contours.

The heat from his body curled into her like a flame. His mouth—so close, so kissable—feathered a warm breath over her bottom lip. Teasing. Testing. Beth felt the full blast of hot, urgent desire and wanted to groan aloud because it felt so good.

She felt like melting right there on the floor when he flicked his tongue out and touched the tip to her slightly parted lips. Every muscle in her body started to sing with anticipation. Her lungs couldn’t get enough air and her mind shorted out as pleasure-induced confusion flooded in. His mouth focused on her jawline, placing gentle nips along the length then sliding down into the hollow of her throat.

Oh, sweet heaven.

He nipped at her jaw, following the trail left by his fingers. She let her eyes close in pleasure.

“Is this so bad?” His rough voice against her neck was doing a serious number on her nerves.

“No.” Not bad … so very good.

“So you have no objections to this?” He reached the base of her throat and gently nuzzled her flesh. She groaned. “Or this?”

His hand slid up her body, past her waist, over her ribs. When he reached the swell of her breast, she released a hiss.

Every tingling pulse rushed through her veins, making it impossible to fight the feeling. She realized she didn’t want to fight it. Maybe it was because she’d been alone for so long and had missed the physical side of passion. Maybe she needed to be touched after an eternity of nothing. Maybe she was secretly wishing he would make love to her.

Maybe it was his hot breath whispering in her ear, the urgent press of his groin against hers.

Beth could taste him in every pore. Like a fire that had started in the pit of her belly, her body was hot and molten—and then she was wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her heat. She could see him behind her eyelids, could smell, feel, taste him.

It had been so long since she had been kissed.

Been wanted.

No one had touched her like this, in a way that she forgot all reason.

He was caressing the length of her back now and her skin itched for his fingers to touch her all over. Her breath came in short and irregular gasps, barely an inch away from his teasing lips. Was she whimpering like a love-starved virgin? She must be because Luke skimmed his bottom lip lightly over hers and whispered, “You want me to kiss you?”

“Mmm.”

Slowly, inch by aching inch, he covered her mouth with his.

Luke De Rossi not only looked like a kissing master, he was hands down one of the best. Her breath merged with his, stirring a long-forgotten ache deep inside, flaring up to lick her body in need. It attacked the part of her mind that controlled rational thought, eating away at her reservations.

He stroked his hands down her arms, creating shivering goose bumps in his wake.

“You want me to stop?” he muttered against her mouth. “I will if you want me to.”

She wanted to give in to him, so much that it made her chest ache. “I …”

She wanted him. For the first time in her life she wanted to leap on in and damn the consequences, grab everything he offered—every no-strings-attached kiss, every blood-boiling caress.

But that would mean giving something in return. Something she’d worked ten years to protect.

With a groan, she snapped open her eyes. Luke continued his assault on her neck as she tried to pull back, gasping as his teeth nibbled at her flesh.

Frantically, she pushed. “Stop.”

He stumbled but regained his feet quickly. The arousal in his heavy eyes held a shot of confusion.

“Beth—”

“We shouldn’t …” She cleared her throat. “This isn’t professional. My life is good. I’m happy. I don’t want—” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t do casual sex.”

“There’d be nothing casual about it.” His husky timbre sounded like a promise. It made her insides quiver.

“No.” She hated the way her denial came out breathy, almost expectant. Anger at her weakness gave her voice more strength when she said, “No. We’re in the middle of a crazy situation and I don’t need another distraction. Not now.”

“Is that all this would be—a distraction?”

“Yes.” She glanced away, wrapping her arms around her waist. She could still feel his heat, still smell his scent on her clothes. She still wanted his mouth on hers.

When he didn’t respond, she chanced a look.

He was shaking his head, a frown creasing his brow.

Her restraint faltered and she let out a breath. “Look,” she said, shoving a loose lock of hair back behind her ears with an efficient sweep. “What we’ve got is a basic physiological reaction to a stressful situation. It heightens senses and emotions.” She smiled tightly. “When there’s a sense of danger, the body’s response is to procreate.”

“Really.”

Beth shrugged. “Hey, it’s physiology.”

Luke studied her intently, but she just stood there, a firm smile on those lips he’d been devouring not twenty seconds ago. Hell, he ached for her like he’d been celibate for five years and not just three months. So it had to be something.

He ran a hand through his hair, wishing it were hers.

“So, no more kissing,” he said.

“Right.” Beth nodded.

“Yes.”

“Mmm.”

Luke watched her gather up the oils and refold the table as if she were performing groundbreaking brain surgery. She wasn’t bothering to deny their attraction anymore and that should’ve pleased him. But it didn’t. Far from it.

He might have been fooled into thinking she delivered mind-numbing kisses often, ones that chewed up a guy’s insides and sent his heart racing. Until he caught a vague look of disappointment as she turned away. Sure, she could rationalize it all she wanted, but Luke knew the truth.

He wanted her. And she wanted him right back.

Beth Jones was unlike anyone he’d ever met. She didn’t disguise the fact that she wanted him out of her life. Yet she was physically attracted, an attraction they both sensed every time he got within arm’s length. When every other woman would have told him loud and clear how they felt, she hid it behind a biology lesson. Her blatant denial intrigued him.

Yeah, but you’ve gotta think with your head, Luke. Your career is everything, always has been. And that’s the way you like it. Face it—you’re a disaster when it comes to relationships.

And he didn’t want to hurt Beth.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Luke finally said.

She remained silent until he raised one questioning eyebrow.

“Towels are in the cupboard above the sink.”

He took the stairs two at a time and Beth managed to keep her composure. But when he disappeared into the bathroom, she collapsed into the couch with a mutter of dismay.

His skin, the play of his muscles beneath her fingers, had been better than she imagined. A scar in the shape of a circular constellation marred the perfection, along with another silver slash of puckered skin low on his waist. She’d bitten her lip to stop from leaning down and gently kissing away the massage oil.

Beth heard the shower turn on … and an image swam into her mind of Luke naked, water running over his chest, abdomen …

Stop it. Stop it now.

With a grievous sigh, she stood and headed off to the kitchen, unsure and unsettled.

Much later that night, after she’d eaten a quick chicken sandwich alone in the kitchen, Beth ran herself a bath and sank into the warm bubbles with a relieved groan.

Behind her head, scented candles flickered on a small shelf, their reflection bouncing from the huge, gold-edged mirror opposite and ending in a subtle play of light on the water’s surface.

The bathroom was her thinking space and she loved it best of all—from the high whitewashed ceiling, the Grecian tiles framing the doorway, the hanging green plants, to the skylight that showed off a clear starry night.

It should have been a haven tonight. But escape was impossible. The house was still and quiet, but an underlying anticipation hung in the air, as if it was waiting to see what changes the newcomer would bring.

Luke dwarfed her spare room, just as he was dwarfing her life, helping himself to a part of it as if she was an amicable participant. She took a deep breath, her lungs filling with steam and scent, and exhaled in a rush.

Luke had to know how out of place he was here, how much he disrupted her sense of order. She’d told him straight what she wanted. Now she had to persuade. She’d show him she belonged here, that her stamp was firmly on this place, in every book, every cup, every comfy cushion. It was her task to convince him, so when he went back to work, he’d soon forget whatever attraction this place held and take her up on her offer.

Peace and sanity would return. Even if it meant working long hours for the next twenty years to pay him off, she’d do it.

Yet why did that give her such an unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach? The cooling water washed over her breasts as she shifted in the tub. She shivered and quickly stood, then slowly stepped out.

She had to do this. Getting hysterical or wishing the situation could be different wouldn’t change anything. At her mother’s funeral she’d made a solemn eighteen-year-old vow: never give in to the dark well of depression and self-doubt her mother had suffered, thanks in part to her father’s infidelities and mind games.

Well, she wasn’t going to crumble, Beth decided as she padded into her bedroom. She stood strong and fought for what she wanted.

It was just a matter of waiting it out.

After she put on her pajamas and lay staring at the ceiling for ages, exhaustion that came with thinking too much finally claimed her.