The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction Page 8

  Adrenalin pulsed through her veins. Where to begin?

  Angling her head, she pushed up onto her toes; a hand gripped his shoulder as she used his large body for leverage until her mouth hovered over his and her inner bad girl looked him straight in the eye.

  ‘Hello, lover.’

  Realisation entered his eyes a split second before she hooked her arm around his neck and lifted a foot off the ground. Trusting him to support her weight, she lifted her leg forward and up, curling it over his hip before leaning back and lowering her chin. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she silently transmitted her intentions in the way a man like him would understand.

  He shook his head a little. ‘Don’t do it.’

  If it was meant as a warning, he had a lot to learn about reverse psychology. She slowly slid her thigh down his leg. Back onto her toes and she was sliding upward again. She leaned her head back a little, eyelids heavy and lips parting as she breathed deep and exhaled on a note of sensual satisfaction.

  If it felt half as good for him as it did for her…

  Gripping her waist with unforgiving fingers, Blake lifted her a couple of inches off the ground, practically throwing her off him before he wrapped his arm around her body and spun them around in circles.

  She lifted a brow. ‘Something wrong?’

  For a moment he looked pained.

  ‘Poor baby,’ she pouted, effervescent laughter bubbling inside her chest.

  Dark eyes glowed, his gaze glancing briefly over her head. A faster set of turns made the remaining couples around them clear a space while Olivia’s heart beat faster and her blood rushed through her veins. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, throaty laughter breaking free until he brought them to an abrupt stop, dipped her backward and his large body loomed over hers. With his face shadowed, she focused on his breathing, elated to find it as laboured as hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so exhilarated, so light and giddy and free.

  Slowly drawing her upright, he pulled her close again, the curves of her body fitting into the dips and planes of his as if they’d danced together a thousand times. When he stepped back, she stepped forward. There was a give and take to their movements that hadn’t been there before, a push and pull all too similar to lovemaking. Now, every time he brushed the inside of her thighs with his leg, she savoured the sensation, moving her leg between his as she followed him forward. When she looked into his eyes, the world went fuzzy around the edges again, her entire focus on him and only him. Did he know how much she wanted him?

  How much she burned for him?

  She wanted the glow in his eyes imprinted on her memory, his touch branded on her skin, his taste in her mouth, to breathe in his scent and have his deep, rough voice echo in her ears. She wasn’t stupid—she knew an attraction like theirs didn’t come along every day. The fact she knew it would flare and fizzle out didn’t matter. If anything, it made it feel as if she had to reach out and grab it before it disappeared and was lost to her for ever.

  Her gaze tangled with his as the music changed to something slower. He searched her eyes, studied the loose curl of hair lying against her flushed cheek and watched the movement of her tongue as she damped her lips again. A tremor ran through her at the thought of his mouth against hers, demanding the response she was so ready to give him.

  As if he knew how close she was to making their first kiss public, he lifted her hand over her head, turning her around and crossing her arm over her breasts before drawing her back against him and setting his other hand on her stomach, his fingers splayed possessively. While he moved their hips in a languorous circle, Olivia leaned her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed as his head bowed next to hers. Warm breath tickled against the tingling skin at the hollow of her neck, his body heat seeping through the thin layer of his shirt and into her blood.

  She smiled. He was trying to slow things down, wasn’t he? It was sweet but there was really no need. Not when she’d made her decision.

  She arched her back a little and straightened her legs. The smallest sliding movement, but it had the desired effect. Blake swore beside her ear, the hand on her stomach pressing her tighter to him in an attempt to stop her from doing it again. Swaying her hips in the opposite direction to his in response, she chuckled when the expletive in her ear was more colourful.

  Turning around, she reached up, curling the fingers of one hand around his neck while the other framed his face. As his gaze consumed her, she knew, deep down inside where all women knew, sex with this man was going to be beyond incredible. One look and her body had begun readying itself for him—had been in pretty much the same state ever since. It was the most basic of biological instincts: the need to mate with the strongest of the species. Was it any wonder she’d been fighting a losing battle when she’d been fighting against nature itself? But she was done fighting. She wanted to feel again. Just for a little while. So long as it was nothing more than physical, she’d be fine.

  ‘Kiss me,’ she demanded.

  ‘Here?’ The glow in his eyes intensified.

  She shook her head. ‘Everywhere.’

  ‘I had a more private “here” in mind for that.’

  ‘Then take me home with you.’

  He searched her eyes. ‘Aren’t we skipping some steps?’

  ‘We packed them all into one night.’

  ‘If I take you home with me, we’ll be packing a hell of a lot more into one night.’ He looked over her head, dark brows folded in thought before he reached for the hand on his face. ‘We’re leaving.’

  A blanket of heated, moist air surrounded them as they left the bar five minutes later, the background noise of traffic and a siren echoing over the river from Manhattan a symphony to her city-girl ears as they rounded a corner and Blake stopped dead in his tracks. Tightening his fingers around hers, he took a deep breath, a muscle working in his jaw before he turned towards her.

  ‘Last chance, Liv. If you’ve had too much to drink or this isn’t something you’re one hundred per cent certain you want, I’m not going to be held responsible for the regret you’ll have written all over your face tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re still an idiot.’ She smiled softly, touched by the unexpected chivalry that allowed her a chance to back out. ‘I’m not drunk, I know exactly what I’m doing and if you don’t shut up and kiss me, I may have to kill you.’

  ‘Why don’t you kiss me?’

  ‘Blake, I promise you—’

  It was as far as she got before his mouth was on hers. No matter how vivid her imagination had been during waking or sleeping hours, or how real some of those fantasies had felt, nothing could have prepared her for the reality of being kissed by him. Not when hunger and need blinded her to everything but sensation. Firm, warm, practised lips moved over hers, his deliciously clean, masculine scent filling her nose and creating a spinning sensation in her head. He tasted so much better than she’d thought he would—a combination of spice and heat with the tantalising promise of hidden depths if she just pushed a little bit deeper. When he coaxed her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, she opened her mouth and dipped inside.

  Shivering when he wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, the sensation of her overly sensitive breasts crushed hard against the wall of his chest forced her to lift a hand to his shoulder to form a vice-like grip. Leaning into him, she demanded more, the hand at his waist sliding beneath his jacket and tugging at the shirt on his back so she could get to skin.

  A groan vibrated in his chest before he tore their mouths apart, leaned his forehead against hers and hauled in a breath, his voice deeper and rougher than before. ‘I want to tell you we’ll take it slow the first time, but I don’t think I can.’

  ‘I just asked you to take me home with you before we’d shared our first kiss—what part of that suggested to you I want to go slow?’

  ‘You know you’re going to pay for what you did
on that dance floor.’

  What did he think she’d been aiming for?

  She sighed dramatically. ‘And yet somehow we’re still standing here, talking about it. Anyone who didn’t know you might think you’d been bluffing all this time and you’re one of those all talk, no—’

  Grabbing her hand in a tight grip, he tugged her to the kerb and whistled loudly. ‘Taxi!’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE woman slept like the dead.

  As the first rays of sunlight appeared in the arched windows of his apartment, Blake watched her sleep. He’d never known anyone who slept so soundly, or remained so still. At least now she was still. Several times during the night she’d tested the one chivalrous bone he had left by sliding her naked body against his, smooshing her breasts into his side and rubbing her cheek against his chest. Add the small, contented moaning noises she’d made and his body had spent hours in the same state most men woke up in.

  Reaching out, he used the tip of his forefinger to lift a strand of hair from her cheek. She looked exactly the way he’d wanted her to look at the start—hair messed up and framing her face, full lips devoid of lipstick, flushed cheeks… Damn, they’d been good together…

  She was spectacular when she cut loose. It had been more than worth the effort he’d put into breaking through to get to the woman she kept hidden from the world. She was more than worth the effort. Whatever guy ended up spending his life with her would be one lucky—

  He frowned. Jealous and possessive—apparently he hadn’t shaken either one of them off yet.

  His gaze slid down her neck to where the sheet was dangerously close to slipping off her breast, then lower to where an impossibly long leg was visible, bent at the knee. He remembered how those legs had felt wrapped around him and how responsive she’d been to everything he did and said. It did a lot for a man’s ego while at the same time leaving him hungry for more. He wasn’t done with her. He was nowhere near done.

  Realising he didn’t know how long he’d been watching her sleep, he quietly rolled away and eased into a sitting position, scrubbing his fingers haphazardly through his hair. He would let her regain her energy, but he couldn’t think of a single reason for her to get out of his bed before Monday.

  It took another two hours for her to wake up.

  Glancing over his shoulder as she came into the living area, he saw her hands smooth her hair back from her face. She had put on the shirt he had been wearing the night before. The movement of her arms lifted the material up her thighs and he appreciated the fact she’d left several buttons undone at the top, allowing a glimpse of the curve of her breasts.

  ‘There’s coffee on the counter,’ he said before concentrating on what he was doing, one of his feet propped on the workbench in front of him.

  ‘I can’t find my dress.’

  ‘It’s hanging up in the bathroom.’

  ‘I borrowed your shirt.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  A moment later she appeared at his shoulder with a mug cradled in her hands, her lips pouting as she blew on it before hiding behind the rim.

  ‘Sleep well?’

  She nodded as she swallowed. ‘Mmm-hmm.’

  ‘Was tempted to check for a pulse a couple of times…’

  She didn’t comment, but he could feel the change in her; it was as obvious as it would have been if she’d exhaled after holding her breath. He was glad. He didn’t want her to regret a single second.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’

  ‘A while.’

  ‘It’s nice.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘Where did you live before this?’

  ‘Here and there.’

  ‘Always in New York?’

  ‘No.’ He took a deep, measured breath. ‘But you already know that.’

  She’d found him, hadn’t she?

  When she went for a walk around his living space, he lifted his gaze to the windows in front of him and watched what she was doing. She tilted her head to the side and read the spines of his books and DVDs, lightly ran her fingertips over the back of his sofa, lifted a couple of framed photographs and studied them before setting them down. It was the kind of thing people did in other people’s apartments, not that it felt any better.

  As she made her way back to him, he lowered his chin and concentrated on the knife in his hand. The blade made a soft, scraping sound as he used his thumb to push it away from his body, carefully guiding each stroke, reducing the wood, layer by layer, to get to what lay beneath. Stopping for a moment, he leaned in and blew on the surface.

  Liv stood at his shoulder again. ‘Do you think you’ll stay here now you have so many apartments to choose from?’

  ‘Chatty first thing in the morning, aren’t we?’

  ‘I’m curious.’

  ‘You’ll get over it.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  When he looked at her and she smiled a small, soft smile, Blake lowered his foot to the floor. ‘Look, Liv, this isn’t…’

  He frowned. He was going to say it was something he wasn’t used to. Given the choice, he avoided the morning after the night before. But he couldn’t say that without making it sound as if he slept around or giving her the impression what had happened meant more than it did. Not that it hadn’t meant something—it had—but he couldn’t tell her that either, not without—

  ‘I know,’ she said, the smile remaining as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Wasn’t planning on moving my stuff in for another couple of weeks…’

  Blake stared at her as amusement danced in her eyes. Shaking his head, he snagged an arm around her waist and tugged her onto his lap. Nudging her hair back with the tip of his nose, he placed a kiss on the side of her neck before telling her, ‘Drink your coffee.’

  When she laid an arm across his shoulders and lifted the mug to her mouth, he continued working the wood. For a while there was an almost companionable silence, the blade working as Liv sipped her coffee and watched what he was doing. Whether it was because she’d made it easy for him, or the fact she wasn’t walking around looking at his stuff, he didn’t know, but whatever it was, it felt better. Even if he realised simply sitting with a woman and enjoying her company was something else that was new.

  She looked at some of the finished pieces on the workbench, then down at his hands. ‘What’s this one going to be?’

  ‘Hasn’t told me yet.’

  ‘You don’t make it whatever you want it to be?’

  ‘Doesn’t work like that.’

  She studied his profile. ‘How does it work?’

  ‘When you get below the surface, it is what it is.’ He lifted the piece of wood and studied it from several angles against the light. ‘You either work with that or you toss it away and look for something you like better.’

  ‘What if it’s hard to get below the surface?’

  ‘Then you need patience.’

  When he looked up at her, sunlight from the window glistened in her hair and her eyes. Lifting a hand to the back of her neck, he eased her towards him, pressing his mouth to her warm, pliant lips. It was a gentler kiss than the majority of the ones they’d shared the night before but, like before, it wasn’t enough. Tossing the wood and knife aside, he heard them thud and clatter onto the bench as he wound his fingers around her coffee mug and took it from her hand. Setting it down, he slid his arm under her knees, moved the hand on her neck to her back and pushed to his feet, unceremoniously hoisting her higher.

  The vibration of a chuckle against his mouth made him lift his head so he could look down at her. As he smiled in reply, her hand slid from his neck to palm his cheek, her thumb grazing the morning shadow he hadn’t dealt with yet.

  ‘I can fix that.’

  ‘No—’ she smiled back ‘—I kinda like it.’

  ‘Remember you said that. I plan on kissing a lot of places I missed last night.’

  ‘I don’t think you missed anywhere.’

  ‘Let’s chec
k, shall we?’

  So long as they stayed the way they were and kept things light, there wasn’t any reason they couldn’t keep doing what they were doing until he’d finished wrapping things up and went back to his life. Light he could do. Fun he could do. Anything more than that, he didn’t have in him. He never had. But as he laid her down on the bed and told her he was going to need his shirt back, for a moment he regretted he was not able to give more. Something else that was new.

  She was in love.

  ‘Do not say your two favourite words,’ Olivia warned him as they walked across a manicured lawn. ‘Not till we’re leaving.’

  As enthralled as she’d been throughout the thirty-five minute helicopter trip from Manhattan—views of the Empire State Building, Wall Street, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island and the Brooklyn Bridge eventually being replaced by open fields brimming with wildflowers, corn, and rows upon rows of sunflowers as they got closer to their destination—she hadn’t noticed much as they came in to land beyond glimpses of a large gabled roof surrounded by mature trees. But once they’d walked around the corner of a curving privet hedge and the house was revealed to her in all its glory, she fell instantly and irrevocably in love.

  If he dismissed it after his usual five minutes she might have to strangle him. Tearing her gaze from dark shingled walls, white shuttered windows and the curving porch beneath twin turrets, she saw Blake’s jaw tense.

  ‘Did you call ahead to say we were coming?’

  ‘I do with all the properties we visit. Why?’

  He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. ‘Three guesses.’

  When she looked for a clue, she discovered a line had formed on the steps at the front door. Stifling a smile, she shrugged. ‘At least no one is in a top hat.’