‘How come it’s you helping Mason? Not one of your employees?’ From all the conference calls and faxes he’d been getting she knew he didn’t usually spend his days on a detailed case analysis like this. He was the boss of more than one entity.
‘He trusts me.’ Carter lifted his shoulders. ‘And he’s an old friend. And I wanted a break anyway.’
‘So this is a holiday for you?’
‘It’s a nice little change.’
‘But you’re still in contact with the Melbourne office all the time.’
He shrugged again. ‘I’m responsible for a lot.’
‘And you love it.’
‘Sure. I like my career. I work hard to succeed.’
Yeah, she’d noticed that about him.
The cool wine refreshed and soothed and now she’d begun to eat she realised just how hungry she was. It was only another five minutes and she’d finished.
He looked at her plate and looked pleased. ‘Better?’
‘Much.’
He went inside and pushed buttons on the iPod dock in the lounge and then came back to the doorway, offering his hand to her. ‘Come on, don’t you like dancing?’
‘To a much faster beat than this.’ But she stood anyway.
He smiled as he drew her closer. ‘You’ve got to learn to relax, Penny.’
The slow jazzy music made the mood sultry and they were barely swaying. His shirt was unbuttoned, so was part of hers, so skin touched. This kind of dancing wasn’t freeing, it was torture. She was uncomfortably hot again, her breathing jagged. A half-glass of wine couldn’t be blamed for her light-headedness, and she’d just eaten so it wasn’t low blood-sugar levels either.
It was him. All him.
And she wanted to feel him wild inside her.
She reached up on tiptoe, deliberately brushing her breasts against his chest. His hand moved instantly to hold her hips tight against his.
She sighed deeply. ‘Can we just get on with it?’
‘So impatient, Penny.’ Laughter warmed his voice. ‘Come on.’
He danced her down the little hall to the master bedroom. She liked the anonymity of the room—only one step away from a hotel suite. There was nothing personal of him around to make her wonder beyond what she knew already. Burning out the chemistry was all this was. One week and he’d be gone. Another month and she would too.
He pressed a button and thick, heavy curtains closed, giving the room an even more intimate mood. ‘You want the lights out?’
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘I like them on.’
He kicked off his shoes and trousers, shrugging off his shirt. She was spellbound by his body. He caught her looking, sent her an equally hot look back. ‘You like to be on top, Penny? You’d like to take the lead?’
She did but she hadn’t expected him to let her so easily.
He smiled and kissed her, but then moved onto the bed. He lay, his shoulders propped up against the bed head, his legs long in front of him, and looked back at her in challenge. ‘Come and get me, then.’
Oh, she would.
She stripped, her eyes not leaving his as she deliberately, slowly shimmied her way out of every single piece of fabric. His expression was unashamedly hot and he openly hungered as she revealed her breasts.
‘You on top works for me,’ he muttered hoarsely.
She’d been worried he’d get all serious—forgo his pleasure in the pursuit of hers and then they’d both end up unsatisfied. But it seemed he was happy to stretch back and enjoy everything easily. Thank goodness.
As she walked to the bed he reached out to the bedside table and swiped up a condom, quickly rolling it on. So he was ready. Well, so was she.
She knelt onto the bed, meeting his unwavering gaze, and began to crawl up his body. His smile was so naughty, so challenging, so satisfied.
But she’d see him really satisfied. She trailed light fingers up his legs as she moved, bent forward and pressed little kisses, little licks. Nothing but tiny touches designed to torment—his thighs, his hips, his abs, his nipples. She’d get to his erection soon—when he begged.
His breath hissed. ‘Are you afraid to kiss me?’
She knelt up and smiled. No. She wasn’t afraid of that. She moved up the last few inches and pressed her mouth to his—and felt him smile.
His hands settled on her hips, pulling her to sit on him, his erection only inches from her wet heat. How the man could kiss. Slow and then firm, his lips nipping and then his tongue sliding. He turned it into an art form. He turned it intense.
She shifted, wanting to move right onto him, wanting to tease him some more. But he took her hands in his and imprisoned them beside her hips—so she couldn’t touch or move. Then he went right back to kissing her. Just kissing. As if they were young teens on a marathon make-out session.
She was getting desperate now—to touch more, feel more—because his kisses were driving her crazy, building the need inside her. Every one seemed to go deeper. Every one increased her temperature another notch. Every one made her kiss back with the same increasing passion—until it was at an all-new level. She closed her eyes, breathless, yearning for the finish.
Finally he kissed down the side of her neck—just a little. She shivered at the first development of touch.
‘Cold?’ he murmured against her.
She shook her head a fraction. She was anything but cold.
She was completely naked, so was he, but he didn’t move to take her or let her slide down on him. His erection rubbed against the front of her mound, teasing exquisitely.
She wanted to diffuse his power and have him in thrall to her—just for the moments that they’d cling together. That was how she always liked it—to be close, to be held. Intimacy beyond that was too much for her to bear. But Carter didn’t seem inclined to settle for anything less than absolute intimacy. Her eyes smarted; she shouldn’t have admitted anything to him. She shifted again, eager to move things on more.
‘We’ve got all night, honey,’ he muttered between more searing kisses. ‘I’m not going to explode if I don’t come in the next ten seconds.’
Yeah, but she was afraid she was going to go insane—this was too intense.
She rose above him, escaping his grip, demanding they move forward. She glanced down at the broad, flat expanse of his chest and the ridges of his washboard stomach. He was remarkably fit. And before he could stop her she gripped the base of his erection and slid down on him hard and fast.
His abs went even tighter and she felt his quick-drawn breath, but his expression remained calm.
She smiled because he felt so good. So damn good. And she could make him feel even better. She circled, clenching her muscles at the same time, and watched his reaction—the glistening sheen of sweat, the dilation of his eyes. Yes, now she was back in control.
Sort of.
She moved, increasingly faster, increasingly desperate. She searched for that look—the harsh mask of rigid control that tightened a man’s expression just before he lost it completely. But Carter stayed relaxed, gazing up at her, his hands trailing up and down the sides of her body, letting her set the pace while still teasing her so lightly.
But the thing was, she was tiring, every time she slid up and down his shaft she felt more sensitised—every stroke hammered at her control. Just looking at him made her senses swim, so feeling him like this had her dizzy. Her breathing fractured. She was unable to keep the swamping sensations at bay, and her head tipped back, her eyes closing. Every inch of her skin felt raw, and at that vulnerable moment Carter slid his hand to her breast.
She gasped, bending forward in an involuntary movement. He caught the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her further forward to meet him. He kissed her again, deep and erotic, while with his other hand his fingers and thumb still circled her screamingly sensitive nipple.
She groaned into his mouth, mostly wanting him to stop—and yet not. And he didn’t. Instead he lifted up closer so
his body was in a crunch position, his abs pure steel. He wouldn’t free her from his kiss, from his caresses, from the powerful thrusts up into her. Slow, regular, his fingers mirrored the rhythm as they moved to scrape right across the tip of her breast. And she wanted to run, she wanted a break—to slow for a second so she could recover some sense.