Secret Affairs: The End of Faking It / Her Secret Fling / The Ultimate Risk
- -
- 100%
- +
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.
But the relentless friction of him against her, inside her and the kisses all combined to bring her to a level of sensation she couldn’t escape. Devastating. She groaned again, desperate—alarms were ringing but nerves were singing at the same time.
He nibbled on her lips, upping the pressure from every angle, the hand at her breast sliding down hard against her belly to below—to that point just above where their bodies were joined.
She couldn’t think any more now. She couldn’t move. Too overwhelmed to be able to do anything but be guided by him and that was too much, too scary. But his hands clutched and controlled. He filled her body and all of her senses—all around her, inside her—holding her more tightly than she’d ever been held. And suddenly she realised—she couldn’t fall because he’d caught her so close and sure. She was all safe—and free. In the prison of his embrace, she could be free.
And now the heat was delicious. Delirious with it, she danced in the flames—and had no desire to escape any more. For the escape was right here in this moment as she moved with him. Groaning, she sank deeper into the kiss, her body yielding, letting him in that last bit more—she could do nothing except absorb all of him as he relentlessly drove into her.
She was so hot, so incredibly hot and wild and free. It was as if a river had burst inside—a lava flow of sensation and heated bliss. On and on he pushed her along it—intensifying the heat and ride to a point where the waves of fire rushed upon her. Her eyes opened for a second and she broke the seal of the kiss as her breath, heart and mind stopped. There was no scream, no cry, just a catch of breath as her muscles clamped and then violently convulsed.
She shuddered, releasing hard on him with an incoherent moan, her hands clawing, so out of control. She was intensely vulnerable and yet utterly safe in the cocoon he made for her.
She went lax, totally his to mould. And he did, hauling her closer still, his grip even firmer, both hands across her back, pulling her so from top to toe she was flush against his hot damp skin. He frantically ground up for a few more beats and in her mouth their moans sounded like magic.
Reality was on some other planet and she was protected from the harshness of it because she was floating in a pool of paradise set at the perfect temperature.
She’d never been out of her mind before but all her reason had been totally submerged. Now she kept her eyes closed as she glided on that warm tide of completion. Every muscle in her body had gone on strike anyway. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t open her eyes, would never move again.
He lay a few inches away alongside her, having eased her onto the sheets a while ago. She didn’t know how long—time was something she couldn’t hope to figure out.
His fingers loosely clasped her wrist and that small connection was just enough. Anything more would be too much, but it seemed he understood that. It seemed he understood a lot.
But he wasn’t gloating, wasn’t lying on his back and beating his chest like a victorious he-man. And he had every right to do that if he wanted. She wouldn’t even mind if he did, she couldn’t, because she was so completely relaxed. Actually, she was absolutely exhausted.
But that was okay, because she didn’t want to think, to talk, to see. In this moment, she just wanted to be.
Carter really wanted to pull her close, but he suspected she might be feeling super-sensitive right now and he didn’t want to overload her system—or freak her out emotionally. Taking it easy was the only way to go. So he fought the instinct to cradle; instead he watched her quietly, waiting for some sign of life. For her conscious reaction.
He already knew her unconscious one. He had his fingers loose on her wrist. He could feel her pulse tripping every bit as fast as his own.
She couldn’t fake that.
Sparks of satisfaction fired in his chest and her sudden smile blew them to full-on flames. Because that smile was full of warmth.
‘Wow.’ Her voice hardly sounded, but he read her lips.
‘Yeah.’ He couldn’t resist—reached out with his spare hand to stroke her hair.
His arms ached even more to hold her. Usually he hated post-coital cuddles—because usually he was too hot and sweaty. And he was damn hot and sweaty now. But he wanted to hold her, to keep the connection open between them. Having her collapse in his arms like that had filled him with the most pure pleasure of his life. He didn’t care about his own orgasm after that—only in that instant it had hit and wiped him out.
But now he watched her eyes as the thoughts trickled back into her brain and she was too tired to hide the vulnerability as they darkened.
‘I should go.’
He rolled onto his side, towards her, his muscles complaining at the movement. ‘I’m only in town for another week. Don’t think you’re spending a minute of it alone.’
‘You didn’t say that earlier.’ Her dark eyes darkened even more. ‘I don’t sleep well in a strange bed.’
‘You slept okay with me by the pool last night.’
She had nothing to say to that. So he pressed home a point designed to lighten the scene.
‘It’ll make it easier to be near you at work knowing I’ll have you with me all night.’
‘Oh, you’re back to that argument, are you?’ She gave him the smile he’d been seeking.
‘Yeah.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ll just have to lie back and think of the company.’
‘But I really should—’
‘Have you honestly got the energy to get up, get dressed and get out of here right now?’ he asked.
Silence for a second, then a very soft answer. ‘No.’
‘Then shut up and go to sleep.’
Her smile was drowsy and compliant and he switched off the light while he had the advantage. In the darkness he listened as her breathing regulated. He was shattered himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the experience he’d just barely survived. Yeah, the most challenging moment of his life. He’d been holding back from firing from the moment he’d seen her naked, let alone finally been buried inside her.
She’d been out to claim him—she’d been all tease, all sensual siren, twisting him hard to force his release, not hers. Now he knew why she liked the light on. She watched him as they moved—noting his reactions and adjusting her movements accordingly. Thinking too much—and all about him. On the one hand she was working out what he liked, and that was great. But not to the extent that she wasn’t getting lost in the moment. She was too focused to be feeling it. Like her work, she was determined to be perfect at it. The best. Most guys would lie back and let her, loving it.
And, oh, he had loved it. She’d driven him insane with want for her. But he’d wanted more than that. He’d wanted her to surrender to the exceptional. He’d wanted her to realise and accept this was exceptional. And holding back long enough for her to become overwhelmed by their magic had almost broken him. Now he wanted an hour or so to pass quickly so he could recover even a bit of his energy. Because, although he was utterly drained, he couldn’t wait to do it all again.
Asleep by the pool last night, she’d curled into his embrace so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it were home. And honestly, he’d enjoyed it. He’d thought that was because they’d both been cold. But he wasn’t cold now and he wanted to sleep like that with her in this big, comfortable bed. So he flicked another switch—the air conditioner—cooling the room enough for them to need a light sheet for cover. And for her to want a warm body to curve into.
CHAPTER EIGHT
YAWNING, Penny opened the fridge, her eyes widening when she clocked the contents. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you to be so into yoghurt.’
‘I’m not.’ He reached past her for the milk. ‘But you said you like it, only I didn’t know which sort so I got one of everything.’
He wasn’t kidding. There was an entire shelf crammed full of yoghurt cartons.
‘I’ve got cinnamon and there’s a ton of fruit in the bowl,’ he added. ‘Although I got tinned as well, just in case.’
When had he gotten all that exactly? She’d only told him her breakfast choices yesterday by the pool—he must have gotten them in before getting back to work after they’d finally escaped the place. That was efficient. And it deserved a reward.
She leaned closer to where he stood at the bench. ‘What do you like for breakfast?’
He swept his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her smiling mouth. ‘You, sunny side up.’
Yeah, she liked that too. She’d woken swaddled in his arms again and the runny honey, so-relaxed-she-could-hardly-stand feeling was still with her. ‘You need something more to sustain you.’
‘Toast. Eggs. Fruit. Cereal. Breakfast’s a big deal for me, especially on the weekend.’ His brows pulled together. ‘You know I have to work through.’
‘I’d figured that already.’ She smiled.
‘But I have to have your assistance.’ Both hands on her waist now, he hoisted her up to sit on the bench.
‘Well, Mason did instruct me to do whatever you needed me to do,’ she said, giving him a less than demure look from under her lashes.
‘Excellent.’ His hands wandered more freely. ‘Then you’re staying right here.’
It was two hours later that Carter sighed and slid out of the bed they’d tumbled back into. ‘Come on, we have to go to the office for a few hours.’
Her cherry lips pouted irresistibly.
‘I’ll get you a coffee from the café on the way,’ he said to sweeten the deal.
But it felt like hours later and Carter was sprawled back on the bed still waiting—fully dressed and ready to go. Penny could shower for all eternity, testing his patience even more than when he had sex with her. But then she made up for it by dressing in front of him. She was super quick then and he wouldn’t have minded if she’d taken longer … so he avidly watched her every movement. He’d never have guessed that her perfect appearance would take only minutes to achieve. Her well-practised fingers twisted her hair into a plait. He reached across and undid it—earning a filthy look—but it was worth it to watch her weave it again. She had the most beautiful long neck and shoulders.
He drove the rental car he’d picked up at the airport and ignored ’til now, detouring to her flat on the way so she could pick up some clothes. He insisted on enough for the week and to his immense satisfaction she didn’t argue. He glanced round her shoebox while she expertly packed a small case. He looked at the few tiny knick-knacks she’d gathered on her travels. It seemed everything was small enough to fit into a couple of suitcases. Hell, the whole apartment could fit in a suitcase. It didn’t surprise him that she lived alone, but he was disappointed not to discover anything much more about her from her few possessions. An ebook reader lay on the arm of the sofa. His fingers itched to flip it open so he could check out the titles she’d loaded.
After he’d stowed her bag in the boot, they stopped at the café just down from the office. He didn’t want to take away, gave the excuse that he didn’t want to face all those files again just yet, but really he just wanted to relax and hang with her some more. It was peaceful. They split the papers and he skimmed headlines, glancing at her as she concentrated on the articles that really caught her interest—in the international affairs section mostly. He asked and she talked through the list of places she’d lived in. He refused to believe her so she proved it by telling him who was prime minister or president in every one of those countries. Mind you, she could have made a couple of them up and he wouldn’t have known. But she spoke bits of a billion languages and was totally animated when she talked about the highlights of each place.
It was almost another two hours and another coffee before they moved on. He picked up the little paper crane she’d made out of the receipt and pocketed it before she noticed.
In the office he had to force himself to pay attention. But every few minutes his mind slipped to the sensual. He’d woken her through the night, warming her up again. He’d let her set the pace—initially—forcing his patience to extremes so she got so involved there was no pulling back, getting her used to letting go. She was starting to get a little faster already—turning easily into his arms, trusting him with her body. But not quite enough.
He wanted to please her all kinds of ways. He wanted her to trust him to do anything—and for her to enjoy it. She still tried to give more than she took, which was as wonderful as it was difficult. But he was determined to get her to the point of just lying back and letting him make love to her. Of becoming the pure hedonist he knew she could be.
As he had less than a week, he had to go for the intensive approach. Not that he had a problem with that either. He was having a ball thinking hard about ways to tease her into total submission. The trick was taking his time over the stimulation. Not too much, too soon. And maybe he needed to take her where she was at ease the most—on the dance floor or in the water. He liked the water idea. She spent hours in the shower. Uh-huh, he had some serious shower fantasies going.
Back at his apartment that night he cooked a stir-fry as fast as possible so he could focus on her. They hit a bar and club for a while but before long went home and continued their own dance party. She wouldn’t let him put the jazz back on, instead she let him in on her favourite radio station—some Czech thing she listened to over the Internet. He’d never have imagined that having sex with Euro-techno blaring in the background would be such an amazing experience.
Early Sunday, Penny walked with him down to the craft and produce market that burst into being this time each week in the local primary school grounds.
Carter swung the bag. ‘Free-range eggs and fresh strawberries—I’m happy.’
She was happy too, but not for those two reasons.
‘There are some amazing markets in Melbourne,’ he said. ‘You ever been there?’
She shook her head.
‘You’ve been to all these other capitals of culture and not Melbourne?’ He looked disapproving.
She hadn’t gotten there yet and she wouldn’t ever live there now. When this week was over she didn’t want to see him again. He would become the perfect memory. That was all this could ever be.
To stop suddenly melancholic thoughts sweeping in, she paid more attention to the products on display—organic honey, bespoke tailoring, spices, sausages, pottery, glass, jewellery … She lingered over them, tasting the samples, touching the smoothness of the craftsmanship.
‘Perfect for Nick,’ Carter called from a couple of stalls away. He waved a bright-coloured, hand-crafted wooden jigsaw puzzle at her. ‘Help him learn his numbers.’
‘But he’s how old?’ she teased, walking over to join him.
‘Eight months,’ Carter answered, unabashed. ‘It’s never too soon to start working on numbers. He’s got to be groomed to take over the business.’
‘Thus speaks the accountant.’ Had he been groomed from birth too? ‘Look.’ She pointed out another puzzle that had six circles, the parts cut like pizzas. ‘Get him that and he can get to grips with fractions before he’s one.’ She held it up as if it was the best invention ever.
‘Oh, good idea.’ Carter took it off her.
‘You’re not serious.’
Actually it appeared he was.
She shook her head. ‘What about this one—this is much more cool.’ Like a globe, a fanciful underwater scene with sharks and whales, seahorse, octopus, glitter and fake pearls.
He screwed up his nose. ‘Bit girly, isn’t it?’ Then he shot her a look and winked. ‘Okay, that’s three.’ He gathered them together and then glanced at her, a sheepish smile softening his face to irresistibly boyish. ‘Am I going over the top?’
‘No.’
‘You’re right.’ Carter reached into his wallet and handed money to the stallholder. ‘He’s going to love them.’
Penny couldn’t help but wonder what Nick looked like—was he a mini-Carter? Did he have his big brother’s amazing multi-coloured eyes? She hoped so. She’d love a baby with big blue-green eyes and a cheeky smile. She’d sit her on her knee and pull faces to make her giggle.
Oh, hell, here she was so swamped by warm fuzzies from all the fabulous sex, she was having fantasies about what their babies would look like. She was pathetic.
She never wanted to have children. And Carter most certainly didn’t want any.
What he wanted was a week’s fling, nothing more. Nor did she. And that was all this was. Okay, so he’d made her feel everything she’d never before felt. But now she’d learned to let go, she would with other lovers, right? She closed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears and her uncontrollable spasm of revulsion.
She didn’t want another man ever to touch her. She only wanted Carter. And she wanted him again now—already addicted to the highs he gave. She felt so good with him. Except that was all this really was—he was the ultimate good-time guy, filled with fun and sun and laughter. He looked carefree in his casual clothes, his red tee shirt as cheerful as his demeanour.
She didn’t want him to be so free and easy. It wasn’t fair. She wanted him to want her with the same kind of underlying desperation she felt for him. The desperation she was trying to bury deep and deny.
But she had the compelling urge to push him into a glorious loss of control. Because even though she knew they shared the most amazing sex, it was she who lost it first. He always hung on until she was truly satisfied. And while he was the only lover ever to have been able to do that for her, part of her didn’t like it. It made her feel like the weaker link. She knew that didn’t really matter—this wasn’t going past the one week. She wished she could shatter him just once.
But she was the one falling apart.
She tugged on his hand and turned to face him. ‘Kiss me.’
Carter looked at her. He could feel the tremors running under her skin. What had happened in the last sixty seconds to make her so edgy?
‘I thought you didn’t like lust in public?’ he teased to joke a smile out of her.
‘Just kiss me,’ she said.
And how could any man resist a sultry command like that? Carter pulled hard on her hair so her head tilted back. He kissed down the column of her exposed throat. With his other hand he pushed her pelvis, grinding it into his.
He stepped back pulling her into the shadows behind a row of stalls. Truthfully he didn’t do public displays much—and certainly not of unbridled lust like this. But the moment he touched her he was lost. Uncaring about what anyone thought, he just had to hold her closer and let the glory wash through him.
‘You are amazing.’ Breathing hard and deep, she looked at him, her black eyes shining. Suddenly she smiled. ‘You make me feel so good.’
His skin prickled. Okay, that was nice because he did aim to please, but it wasn’t just the kissing that made him feel good. Fact was, he felt good every moment he spent with her.
After the market it was back to the office for a long afternoon that Penny struggled through every second of. Baby images kept popping in her head. Cute Carter-as-a-kid imaginings. So stupid.
When they finally returned to his apartment he went fussing in the kitchen, so Penny swam in the pool—needing twenty minutes alone to sort out her head. But a zillion lengths didn’t really help so she went back upstairs. Something smelt good and Carter was busy on his computer. She didn’t think he even noticed when she walked past on her way to shower. So much for the revitalising benefits of exercise—all she felt was even more tired and emotional. She wanted to fall into his arms again and let him take her to paradise. She wanted him to hold her and never let go.
It was the sex. Her weak woman’s body wanted to wrap around his and absorb his strength. But he was mentally miles away in an office in Melbourne controlling his companies. So she could control merely herself, couldn’t she? She flicked on the lights in the big bathroom and twisted the shower on. She stood under the streaming jet and let the water pummel the tension in her shoulders.
‘Is it okay if I join you?’ His erection pointed to the sky, already condom sheathed.
Her bones dissolved, she leant against the wall, wanting to cling to him and just hang on for the ride. His face lit up, his low laugh rumbled and he flashed a victorious smile.
She closed her eyes because his all-male beauty was too much to witness. But when she opened them again, everything was still black. The room was totally dark.
‘Carter?’ she asked quickly. ‘What happened?’
‘Bulb must have blown.’ He stepped into the wet space with her.
She slid her palms all over his chest, loving it as the water made him slick. It was like discovering him all over again only by touch this time, not sight. Somehow it seemed more intimate, more intense. He pulled her close and kissed her. Oh, she loved those kisses. She loved the way he twisted her hair into a rope and wound it against his wrist—pulling it back, exposing her throat to his hot mouth. And then he went lower.
She gasped and pressed back against the cool wet tiles as he licked down her torso. His hands cupped her breasts, lifting them first to the water, and then to his tongue. She shuddered, the sensations excruciatingly sublime.
In the velvety darkness all she could do was soak up his caresses and listen to the falling water. As he gently, rhythmically tugged on each nipple with his lips, her knees gave out. He grasped her waist, easing her to the floor and following, kept doing those, oh, so wickedly delicious things with his tongue and hands.