Her Forbidden Crush (Love in London 2)

But there was no one to stand between them now.

Hotter than he’d ever been in his life, he flicked the shower to ice-cold. He soaped down, sighing as he encountered the erection that just wasn’t going away. He could indulge in a bit of self-gratification to take the edge off, because he didn’t see how the hell else he was going to get a wink of sleep tonight. But he wanted to be more in control of himself. It was his damn body and he could deal with it. There was no need for him to be teen-boy-at-the-mercy-of-unruly-hormones all over again. He could will it away, of course he could. He wasn’t that weak.

He withstood the icy water for a full ten minutes. Blocking wayward thoughts by reliving the moment he’d slipped on the muddy track in training today. He’d shouted out to Kate, releasing the tether that connected them so he didn’t take her down with him. But he’d twisted, ripping tendons and messing everything up.

Kate had cried—the way he’d wanted to—until the medic dulled his pain with some gas. It had taken Kate’s husband Johnny a good hour to get her to calm down, and Luke had felt like he’d ruined everything. He hadn’t though—he believed in Kate. She’d do it anyway. She was unstoppable. He’d gotte

n out of there as quickly as he could, catching the last train even though he hurt and was exhausted. The sooner Kate got back on the track with a new guide, the better for her. She didn’t need to be worrying about him. She needed space to focus on her own race.

Luke stepped out of the shower and toweled off, wincing as he brushed his bandaged knee. At least he was “relaxed” again. He’d go sleep on the sofa. Not Lexie. Somehow he’d sleep, right?

He grabbed the packet of painkillers the medic had given him and hoped they’d numb more than the pain in his knee.

Three

Lexie would sleep on the sofa. Or even better, the cool wooden floor. Actually, who did she think she was kidding? She wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight. And as soon as the morning came, she was out of here. Hanging around Luke Marchetti wasn’t a good idea. Fantasy Luke lingered in her head and she didn’t want start believing things that weren’t actually real. He might be nice, but he was still a player. And she wasn’t being played by him—or any other guy—again.

Of course she’d wanted him from the first time she’d laid eyes on him—all this time he’d had the secret starring role in her erotic fantasies. Good thing it was never going to happen because he’d never be able live up to those dreams.

She steeled herself, armoring up against his charm. The way he’d looked at her in her slip—well, he wasn’t getting it. Not when he’d never truly been interested before. Not when he’d kissed her and walked away without a backward glance. She’d been so naïve back then. But she’d grown up since. That’s why she recognized the look. Other men had worn it. And there was no way she was going to fall for it now. The silk slip was the only reason Luke’s expression had sharpened. And damn if that didn’t just make her mad.

She’d keep herself together and get over the whole nightmare of a night. She’d had a complete flashback to her timid self when he’d teased her before. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye or been able to answer him—so pathetic. She wasn’t letting him get to her that bad again.

So, to bed—on the sofa.

But her things were all in his room.

While he was in the shower she nipped in there, grabbed a couple of things from her pack and changed super quickly, too aware of how big his room was. There were a couple of doors in the far wall. One led to the bathroom he was now in, another to a walk-in wardrobe. But in the bedroom proper, there was only a small bedside table and the massive bed itself—taking up a vast amount of the large space.

Lexie swiped a pillow up from the pile. Hell, for a split second when he’d said they could share she’d thought he meant his bed. And he’d looked so relaxed, as though it was no big deal. Sharing more than the apartment probably wouldn’t be a big deal to him. In fact, she’d probably read that “hunting” look on his face totally wrong. After all, he’d kissed her once and she’d clearly done nothing for him, given that he never tried to do it again. Or ever referred to it. He’d hardly spoken to her after that night.

So yeah, he probably wouldn’t be at all bothered at the thought of sharing a bed with her. Hell, he’d probably suggest they sleep top and tail—head to toe. She clenched her thighs at that thought. To sixty-nine with Luke Marchetti? She pressed the cool pillow to her face in an effort to cool her crazy self down.

She lifted her face at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Oh someone have mercy. He wore nothing but boxers. Blue cotton boxers that showed off his tanned, nothing-but-muscle legs. The big white bandage around his knee stood out, his discomfort obvious as he favored the uninjured leg.

“Don’t you wear anything else to bed?” She blurted the first coherent thought that sprang to mind.

“I don’t usually wear anything at all.” He shrugged. “But I thought it would be best under the circumstances.”

“What about a T-shirt?” She couldn’t look at his body for another second.

He paused halfway across the floor. “It’s a hot night.”

“Right.” It certainly was. “Of course.” She clutched the pillow closer to her chest. “I’m going to sleep on the sofa.” She turned her head away from him so not even her peripheral vision could swamp her with a view of all his damn skin.

“No, I’ll take the sofa,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Not with that knee you won’t,” she snapped back at him.

Honestly, like she’d do that to him? But he frowned, clearly about to dig in. She lifted her chin and glared at him, holding his equally hard gaze. No longer so shy that she’d break away at any kind of eye contact. She was right about this and they both knew it.

Silence stretched between them. She could see the muscle work in his jaw and the annoyance flicker in his eyes. He wanted to resist? Well, he might be looking lean and mean, but he also looked in pain and she was winning this one. “The sofa might be big, but it’s still not big enough for you,” she said firmly. “You’d have to crunch up and you don’t need that.”

He drew in a deep breath and then sighed. The tension in his body eased and he took a couple of limping steps toward the bed. “Nice pajamas,” he drawled.

Kitten-stamped pink flannel pj’s covered her from her neck to just above her ankles. Darn things always shrank in the wash. But she could be a gracious winner and let him get away with the comment. She was determined to be unaffected by any flirt. “Thanks.”

“You didn’t need to change for me,” he said, wincing as he took another slow step.

Oh, yes she did. And she shouldn’t have taken so long in his room. “I was going to strip—” She coughed to clear the sudden itch in her throat and inwardly cursed the sudden rush of heat in her cheeks. “The bed.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. He glanced up and a wicked look chased away the grimace of pain. “You know, my bed’s big enough for four people. We could both be in there and we wouldn’t even touch each other.” His voice was far too smooth. “It’s much more comfortable than that sofa.”

Remaining unaffected was impossible.

“Is that how many you usually have in there? Three at once?” she asked snarkily. His bed was huge—a couple could lie diagonally or sideways and still not have feet falling off the end. Plenty big enough for wild animal sexobatics.

His brows flashed up. “Would that shock you?”

Now she smiled, because now he was the one looking slightly shocked. “Nothing about you would shock me.”

“Is that right?” he asked softly, finally making it to the bed. “Admit it, you’re mortified at being in here with me right this second.”

“I’m not mortified,” she lied, curling her fingers into the soft pillow. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“So why not sleep in here then? The sofa really isn’t that comfortable.” He grimaced again as he sat on the side of the bed. He swung his legs up and covered himself with the sheet she’d pulled back. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, you know.”

Probably not, though she couldn’t quite make up her mind about that. She glanced at him suspiciously. His face was as pale as it had been this afternoon.

Okay, he was right—she had nothing to fear from him. And she couldn’t be feeling any kind of disappointment about that. Not even a teensy bit. All she felt was a spot of empathy for him, right?

“Is your knee sore?” Dumb question. Of course it was sore.

He smiled but it went wonky as he winced. He looked down and adjusted the sheet. She wished he’d pull it right up to his neck—all that muscled, bare, bronze torso made her brain spin.

“Tell me why you’ve landed in London. What’s the plan? You got a job?”

“No job yet,” she said, faking a bright answer. “And it’s London, right?” The place was dynamic.

“So you’re here a while?”

She really wanted to leave his room right now, but guessed he was talking to take his mind off his knee. She had to help with that if she could. She could manage to chat for a couple more minutes. “It depends, I guess. I n

eed to find a job.”

“What were you doing in Australia?”

She’d had a great job—until it all fell apart. She hadn’t told anyone the truth of what had happened; not even Dani knew how bad it was. But she felt the weirdest urge to confide all to Luke. She wanted him to know she’d faced some serious challenges but that she was fully capable of getting herself back together. She wasn’t the weakling she’d been. And she wasn’t going to fall for him again. It didn’t matter how damn sexy he was in his boxer shorts.

“I was working for an online travel agency.” She hugged the pillow to her chest.

“People still use travel agencies?” he frowned.

“It was boutique, catering to a select client base. It was very successful. And I was really good at it,” she said proudly. She’d had excellent feedback from her clients.

“Was?”

Lexie bit her lip and then gave into the temptation to park her butt on the bed. No point in standing when this was going to a take a few minutes. She sat with her back against the headrest, her feet out in front of her. That way she was parallel and wouldn’t have to look at him. It might not have been such a great idea to get into this discussion. “It’s gone under.”

“So it wasn’t successful?”

“It was.” She pressed her chin into the pillow. “And I wanted it to work so I agreed to a delay in getting my pay. I knew the money would be coming in. It had to be, I was making so many bookings.”

“You weren’t being paid?” he asked, incredulous.

Yeah, okay, maybe she had been a bit naïve. “He said it was going to take a couple of months. And I was happy to hang tight. I had savings that I came over with. I really believed in his service. He was so good with online design. Really gifted.”

“But?”

Of course there was a “but.” “He was into a lot of things online,” Lexie admitted wearily. “And he wasn’t nearly as good at gambling as he was at building that website.”