Naughty or Nice

Slowly his smile lifts, his eyes with it, and he presses his forehead to mine. ‘Keep talking like that and I’ll be taking you to bed next.’

‘I like the sound of that...’ I smile, all sultry. ‘But how about a shower first?’

I take his hand and before I can question my senses I head to the bathroom, loving how he comes with me. No question. No hesitation. This feels like a dream.

One that I don’t want to wake up from.

Again, it’s a warning. Again, I ignore it, pushing open the bedroom door and heading straight for the en suite bathroom.

Lucas releases my hand and I look at him over my shoulder.

‘I’m stripping for this,’ he says.

Then it hits me—we’ve done so much but I’ve not seen him naked. Not yet.

I reach into the bathroom to set the shower going before sauntering towards him. He’s placing his cufflinks on the dressing table that blends into the shelving system that runs along one wall. His dark, erotic presence is at total odds with the crisp white room. He doesn’t belon

g here. Hell, neither do I. But it only makes my blood rush faster, my ache build.

He’s tugging his tie undone when I reach him, and I go to work on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and moving on to the buttons. My eyes follow my progress, and my mouth dries further the more skin I unveil, the more muscle, the more toned ripples that are triggered with each scrape of my fingers.

I’ve seen him shirtless before. He only ever slept in lounge pants when he stayed with us. And he was captivating then—in a boyish, trim way. But now he’s all hard, lean muscle and I can’t believe I’m getting to strip him.

‘I’ve waited ten years for this...’

His voice reverberates through my mind. Ten years ago he refused me, and didn’t give me a backward glance. Or so I thought. Now he’s hinting at something else...something more.

My insides twist. My heart aches. I want this to be about sex. I don’t want to feel anything else—not on that level.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

I realise I’ve stilled, my eyes unseeing on his chest, my fingers frozen.

You fool.

‘Of course,’ I say softly, pressing a kiss to his chest and breathing in the thought-obliterating scent of him as I tell my brain to shut down. To go with the flow.

I release the last button and smooth my hands over his shoulders, coaxing off his shirt, exposing the beauty of him to my appreciative gaze. He really is exquisite. I’ve had men—of course I have. I almost married one in trying to forget Lucas.

That foolish move seems ever more idiotic as I drown in a sea of sensation over the man before me now.

I could never forget Lucas. Never carve him out of me.

I trace his pecs, watch them flicker, then I lick my lips as I trail my hands lower, over the taut expanse of muscle to the hint of hair that thickens above his belt buckle.

I move to unfasten his trousers and he catches my wrists, halting me. I look up, questioning, praying I can hide the swirl of emotion running away inside me.

‘As much as you found it a turn-on,’ he says with a lopsided smile, ‘I’m taking myself in there and getting these off alone.’

He steps around me and I watch him go, mesmerised by the movement of his shoulder blades, by the sharp waist and the curve of his behind in those trousers.

Fuck, how I want to bite that.

I giggle at my own crazed desire. It’s so unlike me. As if a dormant part has suddenly awakened inside of me and is taking over. Pushing out all else.

Thank God.

I give him a minute, until I hear the sound of the water change, and then I know he is in there...ready and waiting.