Читать книгу Overtime in the Boss's Bed - Nicola Marsh - Страница 10

STARR fumbled with the key card to her suite, sliding it through the slot three times before Callum placed his hand over hers.

‘Let me.’

He tried the card again, the tiny button lit green, and she yanked on the handle, stumbled through the door. She was never this gauche, this flustered, but riding up in the elevator with this incredibly sexy man had been pure torture.

They’d barely touched, their hands simply brushing when she’d first punched in her floor, yet the tension between them had been indescribable.

Her skin prickled, her muscles clenched, and her pulse pounded in a rhythm she hadn’t experienced for ages.

She’d been a one-man woman too long. A woman who’d been sadly neglected in the bedroom. A woman who wasn’t terribly impressed with the supposed joys of sex.

Time to reawaken her flirty side.

As he reached out, his steady hand resting firmly in the small of her back, burning a sizzling path straight through the thin silk of her dress, zapping her in places in desperate need of some serious zapping, she could barely restrain herself from launching at him.

‘Come in. Make yourself at home.’

She silently cringed at her moronic, trite welcome, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards, creasing his right cheek with a delectable dimple.

‘I intend to.’

Flinging her sparkly evening bag on the hall table, she trailed her hand along the shiny glass surface, rearranged the fronds of a floral arrangement, fiddled with the miniature alcohol bottles on top of the mini-bar, while he stood just inside the doorway, looking utterly cool and controlled and scrumptious.

Deliberately stilling her hands, she clasped them in front of her before realising how prim that looked, quickly releasing them and settling for propping them on the table behind her.

‘I’m clueless as to the etiquette here. Do I offer you a drink? A chocolate bar? Me?’

His dimple deepened. ‘The last, thanks.’

Her heart leaped, and she clenched the table so tight the mini-bar bottles rocked and rattled. One tumbled.

‘Shaken or stirred?’

Laughing, he stalked towards her. Her pulse accelerated with each step. He stopped inches away from her personal space, his intentions clear in the dark depths of his eyes. The simmering heat sparked a response deep within her.

‘Relax.’

He reached out, ran a fingertip down her bare arm, and she shivered in anticipation.

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘You’re nervous?’

‘A little.’

‘Don’t be.’

The trail of his fingertip ended at her hand and he captured it, intertwined his fingers with hers, giving her a much needed anchor in a suddenly stormy sea of passion.

His hand engulfed hers, strong, capable, and a lick of heat shot up her arm. She searched her scrambled brain for the right words—any words that would sound remotely sane and nothing like ravish me now, I’m yours.

‘I can leave if you want.’

Cue the exit music. Cue the curtain call.

But not before they’d had a rousing performance.

Reaching out with her free hand, she bunched a fistful of his soft cotton shirt and tugged. Hard.

‘I don’t want you to go—’

He crushed his mouth to hers, snatching the rest of her words, the rest of her breath, in an explosion of heat and passion and driving need.

She clung to him, desperate to get closer, elated when he hauled her into his arms and backed her up against the nearest wall.

Wrapping her legs around him, she gasped at the bulge pressing against her core, her pelvis moving of its own volition, eager for more, demanding satisfaction.

‘Oh, yeah,’ she murmured, as he cupped her butt, moved back and forth, rubbing against her, teasing her, making her wild with wanting him.

He tore his mouth from hers, his passion-glazed stare mirroring hers.

‘This is crazy.’

‘Yeah, crazy…’

Resting his forehead on hers, he shook his head. ‘I don’t do impulsive stuff like this.’

‘Me either.’

Sliding her hands up from his chest, to cradle his face and push it back until she could look him in the eye, she knew she couldn’t stop this.

She didn’t want to.

The old Starr had crashed to earth around the time she’d walked in on Sergio, in their apartment, in bed with another woman.

Time to say farewell to her old life. Time for the new Starr to rise and shine brightly. Starting with losing herself for one incredible night with a hot guy.

‘What do you want to do?’

‘This.’

She didn’t second-guess her decision, didn’t give it another thought as she drew his face back to hers and plastered her lips to his, arching her pelvis, locking her legs tighter around his waist and squeezing.

His low, guttural groan ripped the air as he deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth, their tongues mating in a sensuous dance as old as the waltz.

Long, hot, moist French kisses went on for ever, bringing her to the edge without him laying a finger anywhere near her throbbing core.

Tension tightened within her body, built, climbed, until she was boneless with desire. She clung to him as he left her mouth, his lips trailing downwards, nipping her erect nipples through the thin silk of her dress. His hands toyed with the edge of her panties beneath her bunched skirt.

Clamping her knees around his hips, she groaned, arched upwards—demanding more, demanding everything he had to give.

‘If you keep making sounds like that, this isn’t going to last long.’

‘Fast is good,’ she bit out as he nibbled her neck. She grabbed his hand from her butt and guided it between their bodies. ‘Hard and fast.’

He tensed, every magnificent inch of him straining towards her. ‘You sure?’

‘Sure…Ooh…yeah…’

Holding on tight, he moved her from the wall to a nearby chair, rested her butt on the padded edge before leaning back to devour her with his hungry gaze.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, his husky tone bordering on reverent as he made quick work of the buttons holding her dress together, almost ripping it in his haste to get her naked.

She quivered with anticipation as he let out a long, low whistle, snapping the front clasp on her bra, pushing it aside before ducking his head to feast on her.

First the right breast, then the left. He licked and suckled and laved until her head thrashed, her hips arched and her hands delved between them, eager to feel him inside her. Now.

‘Wow.’

Her hand briefly encountered an erection, a very large erection, and then he pulled back.

‘You want fast? I’m assuming not that fast?’

She laughed, amazed they were trading banter as if they’d known each other a lifetime.

Sex with Sergio had been lacklustre, had never given her the true intimacy she craved. Not that this mind-blowing foreplay with a guy she’d just met could be classed as intimate, but there was something about him that set her at ease, despite the fact she was almost naked in front of him.

Reaching up, she scraped her nails lightly down his chest.

‘I want you. Now.’

‘Decisive. I like that.’

He tugged her panties off, delved his fingers into her slick heat and pleasured her until she screamed his name. Twice.

‘You’re so hot,’ he murmured, reaching into his back pocket, pulling a condom out of his wallet and sheathing himself before she’d even realised he’d ditched the pants.

Eyeing his impressive arousal, she said, ‘So are you.’

His blistering stare never left hers as he slid into her, inch by exquisite inch, until he filled her, fulfilled her.

‘Jeez…’

He braced himself over her, moved out a fraction, back in, the delicious erotic friction sparking fire as her hips bucked, her insides clenched.

With a low moan he drove into her, again and again and again, harder, faster, his breathing ragged as her hands dug into his hips, urging him on.

This time her orgasm smashed into her with the force of a Sydney hailstorm and she arched upwards, her mouth slamming into his as he tensed and exploded in his climax.

His barely audible expletive echoed her thoughts, echoed what they’d just done.

She’d just had mind-blowing sex with a virtual stranger.

The best sex of her life.

A life which was out of control—which explained why she’d done this.

What she couldn’t explain was the compulsion to do it all over again. Repeatedly.

Holding her close, he strummed her back and she closed her eyes, blindsided by the yearning to have him hold her and do this all night long.

‘I should leave,’ he said.

He should.

But she didn’t want him to—didn’t want to spend her last night in the only city she’d ever truly called home alone.

Leaning back, she cupped his cheek, looked him in the eye.

‘Don’t go.’