‘So you won’t ever be that stupid again. And you’re out to prove it with your website.’
Nadia swallowed more wine to hide the mess of emotion inside her. He made it sound so simple. But there was much more to it. It went so much deeper. She stared down at the stem of her glass and breathed in. The oxygen hit, enhancing the flavour of the wine.
‘So tell me about working for Hammond. Is it as great as they all say?’ He diverted the conversation, his whole tone lighter.
She didn’t lighten to match. Too late she realised he was following his game plan—“get them to share”. He thought by inviting her to spill her guts to him she’d actually like him for it? Even more wrong.
‘It’s fine. What about your work? Do you enjoy it?’ It was his turn to talk. She’d find his weakness and play on that—his rules.
‘It’s fine.’ He echoed her words dismissively.
She looked up, finding his attention intensely focused on her. She couldn’t look away from him. Once more the room receded and there was nothing but his fire-filled deep eyes.
Her senses were swimming now—from the sugar, the warmth, the wine. Not the company. She shook her head to clear the confusion.
He broke the intensity, smiling at the waiter and signalling for the bill. ‘Time for us to depart.’
The cab ride home passed far more quickly than the one they’d taken earlier. This time she wasn’t bothered by the seemingly small space they shared in the back, and there was far less space between them now. She still felt the way his heart had pounded against her palm and her own heart beat faster. Exhilaration, anticipation. Because in moments he’d go for the goodnight kiss and she’d do a quick step to the side. She couldn’t wait.
He sat quiet, appearing to be deep in thought. She wondered what about. Hot and half floating, she turned towards him to read his expression better.
He glanced down and smiled.
It was like being tossed into an ice-water bath. Shocked, she blinked and looked again. But her first instinct had read it right—there was none of her desired outcome in his eyes now, none of that heat. Her dress, her wide eyes and smile were having no effect. Despite him saying earlier he thought she looked fantastic in the dress. They’d been meaningless words. Because right now he was clearly more amused by her than attracted. She leaned a little closer as the cab turned a corner, but still nothing. Just benign amusement—and withdrawal. She could feel him pulling away.
Why? Where was the move? Where was the “best sex” those women had talked about?
The cab pulled over and Ethan got out, paying him off. He glanced and saw her surprised expression. ‘I’ll see you to your door and then walk.’
‘I’m not inviting you in for coffee,’ she said, stupidly hurt by his impersonal politeness.
‘I’m not expecting that,’ he answered, as if he couldn’t care less.
And he couldn’t, could he? Anger surged again as she realised this guy was totally not interested. Why not? Why wasn’t he, when according to all reports he slayed any female who had the misfortune to slide across his path?
He rested his hand on her back as she turned to walk up her path. Anger burned hotter when she felt again the electric effect that one touch had. His hand was all she could feel. Impotent emotion clogged her throat as she blindly stepped forward.
But because she felt that touch so acutely she felt the stroke of his thumb upwards across her spine—a slow, intimate sweep. The smallest of signals.
Oh, thank goodness—there it was. Satisfaction slammed into her. The man couldn’t help himself. Finally he was going to go with some of his moves. She walked slowly now, enjoying the thrill of him moving so close behind her, smiling as she imagined her refusal scene. She’d keep it polite tonight, but playful too—to give him the illusion of possible success in the next date or two.
But in reality it was impossible. For sure.
She unlocked her door and flicked the switch just inside so light spilled from the room out onto the path. Then she turned to say goodbye, her smile impossible to contain.
He really was very tall up there, still in the shadows, looking down at her. She could tell he was smiling too—but suddenly she knew it wasn’t a lust-fuelled smile. It was that amusement again. Was he laughing at her? Her certainty of success faltered.
‘Thanks for an interesting evening, Nadia.’ Loaded with irony.
He was laughing. She’d been wrong about that touch. He wasn’t going to do it—no move, no kiss. There was nothing. She felt piqued. And disappointed. And anger swamped her. She was not going to let him go without scoring a point of her own.
‘I’ll see you Sunday,’ he said in farewell.
Just before he turned she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and stood on tiptoe as high as she could.
And pressed her mouth to his.
He froze. Didn’t pull away, but didn’t respond either. So she worked a little harder, stroking his lower lip with her tongue. A faint response then—the smallest flinch of his muscles. But it was so faint she let go and stepped back, suddenly aware she’d made a massive mistake.
‘What was that for?’ he asked, somehow closer despite her retreat.
‘Curiosity,’ she flipped back at him, frantically thinking up her defence. She’d crashed out of the floating feeling now. ‘I wanted to know if you’re as amazing as they all said.’
She felt his muscles firm even more and he loomed closer still.
‘And the verdict?’
‘Not as hot as I’d been led to believe.’
‘But I thought one of your top tips on first dates was not to get too hot.’
‘You were playing by my rules?’
‘What? You thought you were playing by mine?’ He laughed. She could feel the vibrations in the scarce space between them. ‘You really have no idea.’
‘Don’t patronise me.’
‘But, darling, you don’t just lean in and stick your tongue down a guy’s throat.’
Mortification and the hated goosebumps made her skin—and soul—painfully sensitive. So she covered with mock incredulity. ‘Are you giving me kissing advice?’
He was a jerk—she hadn’t stuck her tongue down his throat and he knew it.
‘A little lesson in seduction, if you like.’ He stepped even nearer. ‘I think you need it.’
She tried to push him away, but he was a mountain in front of her now—immovable and impassable. Her hands were tiny on his chest, her fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his shirt.
‘To begin, Nadia,’ he said softly, and with light sarcasm, ‘less is more.’
‘Is that right?’ she snapped, smarting, tipping her chin high to glare into his eyes, deliberately digging her nails into his skin now.
He leaned closer, resting his hands on the wall behind her as he bent, his words whispering across her face. ‘Anticipation is everything—didn’t you know?’
‘It’s only everything if the end result is a disappointment,’ she said caustically. ‘If the end result was as amazing as it’s meant to be, then the anticipation would be forgotten in the heat.’
‘Oh, you’re wrong.’ He smiled. ‘You need to live moment by moment.’ His head lowered. ‘It’s much more fun.’ He paused, his mouth a millimetre from hers, as he gently instructed, ‘You start with lots of soft, teasing touches.’
His lips brushed hers lightly, just once. But the second she went to snap back at him he did it again. Then again and again and again. Until it was lots—as he’d said. Not deep, hungry kisses, but slivers of rich sensuality that made her open her mouth for more before she’d thought to stop it. Then she couldn’t think at all—she only wanted to move closer for more.