Exotic Nights

It was his turn to frown. It was her second audition of the week—and she’d been late to that one too, had said it had gone badly, that she’d fluffed the lines completely.

But she looked so on edge now he stepped aside, letting her go.

Friday night she was on another late shift. Only he didn’t feel like staying home and cooking. For once the apartment felt too big, too quiet, too lonely. He raided the fridge, found some not-too-ancient leftovers—enough to satisfy the hunger of his stomach for a while. Then he left—needing to satisfy his other hunger.

She was behind the counter, the one taking the orders, not actually making the coffee. He walked straight up to her, registering with pleasure the surprise in her eyes, the pink in her cheeks, her widening smile. The rush of warmth inside rose so fast it threw him, made him awkward. It wasn’t the heat of lust; while that simmered in the background, this was different. This was a buzz, a thrill of delight caused by something else—affection, maybe? Amusement? He couldn’t think what else. He took a step back, sat at the long counter facing the window so he wasn’t staring straight at her. He pretended to leaf through one of the glossy magazines in the stack, but all the while he was attuned to her sing-song voice as she served the customers.

‘Would you like whipped cream with that?’ The teasing question had him irresistibly turning to look at her.

She was smiling—it turned sinful as she glanced at him—and everything inside suffered an electrical jolt. She could tempt a hunger striker to a four-course banquet if she asked like that. He’d say yes to her like a shot. His discomfort level increased when he realised it—he already was saying yes to her, all the damn time.

Back at Owen’s house, after her shift, Bella thought how her sense of their boundaries was becoming blurry. One day he was spelling out the terms of their relationship as if it were some business transaction, the next he was incredibly sweet and telling her about his geek-boy attempt to track her down. She couldn’t help but wonder if the magnetism between them was made of something stronger than just a few nights of fun.

And he was so good at getting her to agree to everything, she wanted to wrest back some of the power. Wanted to gain that independence she’d been seeking for so long. But more than that, she wanted him to be as sunk in her as she was in him—because she’d fallen for him completely now. He was beautiful, bright and bold and she wanted to keep him.

She didn’t have a hope. She wasn’t the sort of woman for him—if he ever wanted to commit it would be to someone super successful, beautiful, articulate. Someone who could stand beside him in any situation and do him proud. Someone like Vita. Whereas Bella would be an embarrassment—she’d be the one inadvertently wearing half her dinner on her shirt at a posh restaurant; she’d be the one falling on her face down a flight of stairs at a charity ball. She was always

the one making the stupid slip-ups somehow.

But she could be the best sex of his life. She smothered the chuckle at the lack of loftiness in her ambition. Oh, yes, for whatever reason he wanted her body, and maybe, if she could keep him wanting her, she could keep this affair burning for longer. She wanted longer. All she had to do was trap him in some kind of sensual net—where he couldn’t say no, where he couldn’t get enough.

Now, in his bed, she slowly crawled down his body, towards his legs. The view he’d be getting was one she’d never be brave enough to give anyone else. But with Owen, it was different. He made no secret of how much he liked to look at her. How much just looking at her turned him on. And she wanted to turn him on really, really hard because that was what he did to her. He’d been right the other day—she had been begging—and she was determined to make him suffer to the same degree. To make him want her so much he’d never be the one to utter the words that would end it. He made her feel capable of anything—of making her most secret fantasies a reality.

Dangerous—because right now he was her secret fantasy.

He muttered something unintelligible. His hands came up, moulded round the contours of her bottom, then a finger traversed through her slick heat.

‘You want me to stop?’ she gasped.

‘Oh, no. Please, no.’

She wriggled her hips pointedly and to her mixed relief and regret his hands slipped away. At least now she could try to focus.

‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘You’re killing me.’

She nuzzled into him, her hair teasing and twisting round his erection.

‘Bella …’

‘Roar.’

‘Tigress.’ His laugh sounded half strangled.

She turned around, so she was facing him as she straddled his legs, bending so her breasts were either side of his penis. ‘Watch.’

‘Oh, I am.’

She took him into her mouth and twirled her tongue on the tip of him.

His hands were fisted by his sides. Every muscle in his body tensed. ‘Bella, stop. Please. I want you. I want all of you.’

‘I don’t mind …’

He shook his head. ‘I want to be inside you.’

She slid the condom down slowly.

‘Bella.’ His lips barely moved, jaw locked, teeth clenched.