She hit the back arrow on the navigation bar, and scrolled back a few pages until that mortifying article about him featured.
‘Look at it, the grand total of two stories on you are fabulous,’ she said drily. ‘While the thousands on me are awful. Being labelled a sex stud isn’t anywhere near as bad as being labelled a narcissistic, deranged stalker.’
She paused as the picture of him carrying the child out from the landslide popped up. She was right, but he still hated that image—what it had brought for him. A moniker he didn’t deserve. A supposedly ‘heroic’ status. Because in reality he couldn’t be less of a hero. He’d destroyed a family, not saved one. Yeah, the real story of his life, the most relevant thing about him, had never been reported in any newspaper.
Caitlin looked at the way James was sullenly glaring at himself in that picture. He was cradling that poor kid so carefully, yet he’d had the look of a fighter on his face—sheer determination as he ran. His T-shirt had been spattered with his own blood, pouring from the nasty-looking gash on the side of his head.
‘Did it hurt?’ Ugh. She clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. You must get asked that all the time.’
‘It looked worse than it was.’ He looked up at her, his moody reverie broken, amusement stealing back into his eyes. ‘Some women are fascinated with the scar,’ he said softly. ‘They always want to kiss it. Like they could make it better with their life-giving lips or something.’
‘And do those kisses make it better?’
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘Truth? I lost most of the nerve endings around the wound. I can’t even feel it if someone kisses it. It’s sure as hell not sexy.’
‘Roger that,’ she said crisply. ‘No scar kissing, then.’
Their eyes met. For a moment there was thick, expectant silence.
He lifted his finger and ran it down his scar. ‘Women think this symbolises something that isn’t real. I’m no hero.’
‘You are,’ she muttered. ‘You’re good.’
‘Why do you think that?’ That bleak, almost angry look returned. ‘From what you’ve read?’
‘From your actions,’ she corrected. ‘You’re the guy who pulled back from having anything you’d like from me this morning.’ She glared at him. ‘Is it so bad to want me?’
He flinched. ‘I was trying to do the right thing by you.’
‘Who’s to say I wanted the “right” thing?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you get it? I’m the bad girl who always wants to do the wrong thing.’
He hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t have said it was wrong. But it seemed to me you’re a bit bruised and I didn’t want to make things more difficult for you. Now I know for certain you are.’
‘You cooled off to protect me?’ she flashed. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ he said peaceably.
That didn’t soothe her irritation. ‘And isn’t the fact I’ve had a tough time all the more reason to do something decadent?’
His eyes sparked. ‘Decadent?’
It would be so decadent. The guy was like that luscious, rich chocolate he’d fed her. The finest of ingredients, the smoothest texture, divine taste. Fit, strong...seven times?
He laughed softly as he looked at her. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Very bad thoughts.’
‘Tell me some.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ She lifted her chin provocatively. ‘You can’t really be bad. It’s not in you.’
‘And you think you’re the expert?’
‘Rumour has it.’
‘We both know you can’t believe everything you read.’ He pulled her towards him, his voice dropping. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’
Only a breath away from him, she couldn’t resist. ‘I’m thinking, everyone thinks I’m bad. Why not be bad?’ She was tired of fighting it. Tired of trying to hold her head up in public. She wanted something for herself. Something fun. Something that felt good. And James Wolfe felt good. No one would ever know. He’d be as adamant on that as she. And she could live with that.
His hand slid across her shoulder, the tips of his fingers seeking her collarbone. They were gentle, but firm. Hot. She tensed, trying to stop herself flaring out of control.
‘Maybe it’s not so bad if the world thinks I’m bad,’ she added. ‘Then I can get away with anything because people are already going to think the worst.’
‘What’s the “anything” you want to get away with?’ His fingers moved south, tracing the neckline of her dress. Down towards the curves of her breasts.
She breathed quicker. Her lashes lifted. ‘Corrupting. Claiming innocence. Taking someone over to the dark side.’
His eyes widened, then a small laugh escaped him. He shook his head slightly. ‘You really think I’m good?’
‘You better be.’
‘Truth is, I can be very, very bad.’ His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, delving towards her cleavage.
‘So we should be bad together,’ she whispered, placing her hand over his, pressing him closer. She ached to feel more of his skin. Less tease, more touch.
‘Or good.’ His finger traced the lace edge of her bra.
‘In this instance?’ she muttered. ‘Same thing.’
He bent forward and nipped her lower lip. ‘Let’s both be very, very good at being very, very bad.’
SIX
Caitlin melted into his arms—his kiss came quick and hard and she was so ready. Right here, right now. Just right. She groaned as James swept his tongue across her upper lip. She wanted him to go deeper but, to her stunned outrage, he pulled back and picked up his phone.
‘You have an important call to make—now?’ She scowled.
Amusement flashed on his face as he took another step back from her. ‘Very important text.’
What? How could the guy even think? How could his hands even be steady enough to be able to tap out a text? She was wobbly all over. Needy. Hell, she had been for hours. She put her hands on her hips to hide it and tapped her foot to express her annoyance even more obviously. ‘How is a text more important than...?’
‘I’m ensuring no builders turn up here in an hour.’ He grinned. ‘In fact, I’m insisting no builders or workers of any kind enter the condo at all today.’
Oh. ‘So you’re putting up the “do not disturb” sign?’ she clarified with a tilt of her chin.
‘Absolutely.’
Well, for that the man might be rewarded. In a minute. ‘Hmm.’ She lifted her shoulders and let them fall in a careless shrug. ‘You do your admin, then,’ she taunted. ‘I’m going upstairs to find my own...comfort.’
She walke
d oh-so-easily across the floor, head high, shoulders back...heart thundering.
But she heard his low laughter, heard the sound of confident, controlled movements. Footsteps fell heavy on the stairs only a few paces behind hers.
As she entered the immaculate bedroom he ran a hand from her shoulder down the length of her arm to her wrist. His fingers made a circle—a cuff—around her bones and then he tugged.
‘Don’t think you can turn your back on me now.’ He spun her round and pushed her gently with his other hand, just below her ribs. ‘It’s my job to provide the comfort here.’
She fell back on the bed. He fell with her, his lips connecting with hers. She closed her eyes as she savoured the glorious weight of him. His tongue stroked deeper this time, seeking knowledge. She let him find it—opening up to let him explore completely. She lifted her hands, exploring the breadth of his back, feeling the strength of his lean muscles. Oh, yeah, the guy was fit. Taut. Hot.
But then he drew back, one hand pressed on the mattress beside her head as he levered away enough to look down at her. Caitlin stared at him through narrowed eyes. He damn well better not put the brakes on again. She’d do him an injury.
He stared down at her, a smile slowly crossing his lips. ‘Tell me what you want.’
She let her hand fall. She was sprawled on a bed beneath him. Wasn’t it obvious?
‘Talented as I am, I don’t do telepathy,’ he said with a self-mocking grin. ‘I don’t read minds. And I don’t like to make mistakes.’
‘You’ve made mistakes with women before?’
‘Some.’ He nodded. ‘So I think it’s a good idea to clarify exactly where we’re going with this. I like my private life to remain exactly that. Private.’ A vaguely uncomfortable expression flitted across his face. ‘I’m a wealthy guy. I’m a little known. So I’m always going to get verbal consent. I’m always going to wear a condom.’
What, he thought she’d try to trap him? ‘You want me to sign a contract and everything?’