He nodded his head. ‘I find it difficult to sleep in. Here.’
‘Does my doing the garden bother you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’ Too bad. She wasn’t going to stop.
‘You’ve always done it?’ he asked quietly, inching even closer.
She nodded slowly.
‘That’s why you have the tan, why you’re fit.’ Oh, his voice was mesmerising, he was all mesmerising.
‘That and the dancing.’ She relaxed against him a fraction. Felt his tension increase.
‘The dancing,’ he repeated in a low mutter. ‘Yeah.’
‘I wear the headphones because I don’t want to disturb the neighbours.’ She looked up at him with eyes that hadn’t blinked in so long they ached.
‘You disturb the neighbours anyway. This neighbour.’
At her waist, his grip tightened. Then his fingers moved—pushing, creating a space between her tee shirt and waistband—accessing bare skin. She shuddered—an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure as one anticipation was fulfilled. More rose fast. Oh, this was good. This was very, very good.
‘This is bad.’ He seemed to be talking exclusively to her lips. ‘This isn’t happening.’
‘Why not?’ She slid her tongue across her excessively dry lower lip.
He tensed more. ‘I’m not in the market for a relationship.’
‘Nor am I,’ she assured him.
He was silent.
But with his grip this firm on her, his gaze this firm, she grew bold. ‘But I do want you …’
He remained silent, but the heat in his expression flared.
‘To do me a favour,’ she expanded, her voice even softer.
‘What?’ His gaze remained glued to her mouth.
She didn’t know if he was really listening—but she was about to find out. ‘Sleep with me.’
His focus shot to meet hers. She lifted her chin a notch, not retreating from her challenge.
His lips twisted. ‘Have you had champagne for breakfast?’
She wished she had—it might make this easier. She repeated her new mantra. She was a free spirit, floating through life now. Unafraid to do what she wanted. And she’d take neither acceptance nor rejection to heart. ‘I want you to be my lover.’ She drew her lip in with her teeth and breathed the last. ‘My first.’
His eyes widened. ‘What?’
She waited, knowing full well he’d heard.
His hands gently shook her. ‘Your first?’
A different kind of tension rolled off him now.
Okay, so maybe mentioning the ‘first’ had been a mistake. But she’d wanted him to know. Thought it was better to be honest. Thought it might tempt him all the more. Only a look of sheer panic scrunched his face. Now he dropped his hands and took a step back.
‘Isn’t it every man’s fantasy?’ she asked, suddenly a lot less confident.
‘Not mine.’
‘No?’
His jaw clamped for a moment; she saw the deep breath he dragged in. Then he lifted his chin. ‘No. I don’t want some total novice who doesn’t know what she’s doing. Who’ll lie like a log expecting me to do all the work.’
Ouch. How to shoot her down. ‘I’m not a total novice. The actual virginity bit is a mere technicality,’ she flung at him, furious that he could go cold so quick—and be so damn brutal about it. Chelsea had been right about him being harsh; he had a really offensive kind of defence. But it was an act—she knew it. She’d felt the need in his body. ‘I know you’re interested,’ she said defiantly. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me.’
‘How do I look at you?’
‘Like you want to touch.’ She moved forward, her boldness returning when he didn’t walk away. And damn it, she’d come this far, there was nothing left of her dignity to lose. So she wasn’t just flirty, she was shameless. ‘And I do know how to touch. Won’t be any kind of cold stone.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. Hoping her hammering nerves weren’t obvious.
He stood like an immovable mountain. In fact she didn’t see any part of him move as he murmured, ‘Prove it.’
Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell for playing her so hard. But victory surged through her veins too. Yes, she’d known. She might be a virgin but that didn’t mean she was an idiot. He wanted her.
She got to within kissing distance. But she wasn’t going to go for the obvious. Nor was she going to make it that easy for him. Somehow she was going to make him suffer for this humiliation.
She looked down his body—as freely, boldly, brazenly as he’d looked at her before. Then she stepped closer, angling her head so her face tucked in near his neck—her own neck exposed to him. She blew, very lightly, on the pulse she could see beating madly just beneath his jaw.
He flinched.
With one, light finger she stroked his forearm, feeling the heat of his skin, the tenseness of the muscles beneath it. She moved, licked her lips, then very lightly pressed them against his salty skin.
He stood like a statue. A very hot, breathing hard one.
‘I have had a boyfriend. I know a few things,’ she whispered against his throat. ‘Done a few things.’ Her hand moved to his chest, circling the tight nipple beneath his tee. ‘And I’m keen to learn some more.’
She felt the rise and fall as his breathing quickened from just that little touch. And then he seemed to stop breathing altogether.
She moved her hips closer to his. Dancing just that little bit in front of him. Bringing her mouth closer to his throat again. She’d wanted to taste him for so long. She wrapped one arm around his lean waist, her other hand flat on his chest, fingers smoothing.
She felt his response. Rocked her hips closer to the thick erection but pulled back at the last millimetre—almost touching, almost thrusting against him. But not quite.
She snuck a very quick look at his face. His eyes were shut tight. The muscles in his jaw stood out. His fists clenched at his sides. She felt heady pleasure at seeing how she affected him. But she didn’t want him to be in such rigid control. Her instinct was to soften more against him. To come closer, to drape like silk over him. But she sensed that this slightest of distances between them was doing her cause some good.
She rose on tiptoe and gently scraped his ear lobe with her teeth, then whispered, ‘I won’t just be lying there, Gabe.’
It would be impossible anyway. Her hips had a mind of their own, circling near him in that rhythm that was ancient and instinctive.
He moved, hands slamming her body against his. His fingers digging into her hips. His erection doing the same to her belly. He held her firm, clamping her to him so she couldn’t move. Pressed together like this, with only the fabric separating them, she didn’t want to. His hardness, her softness. She let her head fall back to meet his fiery gaze, her position wholly submissive as he took her weight. But her eyes and mouth teased.
‘Why now?’ he asked through tightly clamped teeth.
‘It’s a good time.’ And that was the truth.
‘Why me?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she asked breathily. ‘Just as it’s obvious you want me as much.’
‘Only a gay man could fail to react to this stunt of yours,’ he growled. ‘Even then I reckon he’d rise to it. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to follow through.’
Cold seeped into her skin, stiffening her. She straightened as she felt his physical withdrawal. ‘Why not?’
‘I’m flattered, Roxie.’ He stepped back and let her go. ‘But this isn’t the right thing for you.’
Who was he to judge that? Only she knew what was right for her. ‘I’m not a child.’
‘No, but you are a lot less experienced than I am. I don’t think you’ve thought this through.’
‘Don’t insult me.’ She’d thought of nothing else for days. ‘I’ve not been hanging onto my chastity for the one and only. It’s been more circumstance than design.’