When that guy on the train turns out to be your boss!

Nurse Felicity Mitchell’s train journey of a lifetime is even more unforgettable when she meets Callum Hollingsworth. Neither is looking for temptation, but that doesn’t stop them from sharing one hot, wild night!

Except when they disembark, they learn that what happened on the train won’t stay on the train. Because the gorgeous stranger is Flick’s new boss...and it’s increasingly difficult to keep their chemistry under control and leave it at just one night!

Dear Reader,

When I was asked to write a duo with Emily Forbes centring around a house swap I leapt at the chance. I simply adored the movie The Holiday, and thought the concept would be great to play around with. There are no snowy cottages or Jude Laws in this one, but there is Outback Australia, a delicious wounded doc and a no-nonsense small-town nurse who’s super-wary of love—particularly when it comes in the form of a very temporary locum.

I was also thrilled finally to be able to put a train in a book! In 2012 my husband and I travelled on the Indian Pacific from Sydney all the way across the country to Perth, and I have been wanting to put that trip in a book ever since. Growing up as the daughter of a railway man, I’ve always felt that trains are in my blood, and some of my happiest childhood memories involve train trips with the family. There’s just something so romantic about saloon cars, moonlit landscapes flitting by, and two strangers making love all night to the clickety-clack of the rails against the track.

I hope you enjoy the journey through this book as much as I did bringing it to you.

Happy reading—and all aboard!

Amy

Swept Away by the Seductive Stranger

Amy Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my dear friend and colleague Emily Forbes.

It was a blast—let’s do it again some time!

AMY ANDREWS is a multi-award-winning, USA TODAY bestselling Australian author who has written over fifty contemporary romances in both the traditional and digital markets. She loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel—preferably all four together. To keep up with her latest releases, news, competitions and giveaways sign up for her newsletter—amyandrews.com.au/newsletter.html..

Books by Amy Andrews

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Rescued by the Dreamy Doc

Just One Last Night...

Waking Up With Dr. Off-Limits

Sydney Harbor Hospital: Luca’s Bad Girl

How to Mend a Broken Heart

Sydney Harbor Hospital: Evie’s Bombshell

One Night She Would Never Forget

Gold Coast Angels: How to Resist Temptation

200 Harley Street: The Tortured Hero

It Happened One Night Shift

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Praise for Amy Andrews

‘A lovely and sweet romance, but with plenty of heat and some ripping sexual tension.’

—Goodreads on It Happened One Night Shift

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Praise

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CALLUM HOLLINGSWORTH WOULD have had to be completely blind not to notice the sexy blonde in his peripheral vision. Thanks to a combination of excellent medical care, the passage of time and her being on his right, he wasn’t.

Although it was her laugh he’d noticed first.

She was talking on her phone and even though her tone was hushed her occasional laughter practically boomed around the busy café. It was so damn...unrestrained, so carefree, he couldn’t help but stare.

Callum hadn’t had much to laugh about in recent times and a hot streak of envy tore through his chest as he ogled her from behind his sunglasses. Long honey-coloured hair with curly ends that brushed her shoulder blades. A glimpse of sun-kissed skin at her throat and on toned, tanned arms. Legs clad in denim that were shapely rather than skinny and knee-high fringed boots that looked more country girl than dominatrix.

She didn’t wear any make-up or jewellery. In fact, there was a lack of anything flashy or ostentatious about her yet she shone like a jewel in the old-fashioned café in Sydney’s Central Station as the sun streamed in through the high windows overhead.

Maybe it was the way she laughed—with her whole body—that held his attention. Maybe it was the jeans and the boots. Maybe it was her lack of pretension. Whatever, he was just pleased to be provided with some relief from the burden of his thoughts as he sat waiting for his train to depart.

For God’s sake, he was about to embark on one of the great train journeys of the world. He was leaving Sydney and going somewhere else for two months where nobody knew him or about the tumble his career had taken. He could reset the clock. Reinvent himself.

Come back refreshed and show them all he didn’t give a damn.

The sooner he got to grips with his old life being over, the sooner he could get his act together. This was his chance to finally get his head out of his backside and work on being impressively happy once again. Because he sure as hell was sick of himself and the dark cloud that had been following him around for the last two years.

Nothing like moving fourteen hundred kilometres away to send a strong message to himself about the new direction of his life.

‘All passengers for the Indian Pacific, your train is now ready for departure from platform ten.’

Callum gathered his backpack at the announcement over the loudspeaker. The woman on the phone crossed her legs and kept talking and a pang of disappointment flared momentarily. She obviously hadn’t been waiting for the same train. Visions straight from a James Bond movie of a glamorous night between the sheets with a mystery woman on a train as a brilliant way to kick-start his new life fizzled into the ether.

He gave himself a mental shake, his lips twisting at the insanity as he headed towards the exit to the platforms.

* * *

A thrill of excitement shot through Felicity Mitchell’s system as she stepped into the luxurious carriage and was ushered to her compartment by a man in a smart uniform who had introduced himself as Donald, her personal attendant. She passed several other compartments with their doors open and smiled at the couples who beamed back at her.

Booking a double suite in platinum class on the Indian Pacific was a hideous extravagance. She could have done the Sydney to Adelaide leg in the sitting compartment or even the gold class and saved a lot of money, but it had been a lifelong dream of hers to watch the world chug by as she lay on her double bed, looking out the window. She’d spent the last of her inheritance on the fare but she knew her grandpa, wherever he was now, would be proud.

They passed a compartment with a shut door before Donald stopped at the next one along. ‘Here you are,’ he said, indicating she should precede him.

Felicity entered the wood-panelled compartment dominated by a picture window. A small plate of cheese and biscuits sat on a low central wooden table. A long lounge that would become her double bed sat snugly against the wall between the window and a narrow cupboard where her bags had already been stowed.

‘This is your en suite,’ he said, opening a door opposite the lounge to show her the toilet and shower. It was a reasonable size considering the space constraints.

Donald gave her a quick run-down on her compartment and other bits of information about the service before asking if she’d like a glass of wine or champagne as the journey got under way.

Would she? Hell, yeah.

‘Thank you, Donald, I would love a glass of champagne.’

He smiled at her. ‘One glass of bubbles coming up.’

Felicity waited for him to leave before she danced a crazy little jig then collapsed onto the lounge in a happy heap. Workers scurried around on the platform outside, ready for the train’s departure in a few minutes. She couldn’t believe she was finally sitting in this iconic train about to begin the trip of a lifetime.

Donald returned quickly and handed her a glass full of fizz. ‘You’re just with us until Adelaide, that’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s right. I’d love to go on all the way to Perth. Maybe one day.’

The Indian Pacific was so called because it travelled the width of Australia between the Indian and Pacific oceans. The full trip from Sydney to Perth took three days. Her leg of the journey was only twenty-four hours.

‘I think you’ll enjoy yourself anyway,’ Donald said.

‘Oh, yes,’ Felicity agreed. ‘I have absolutely no doubt. I’ve been looking forward to this for most of my life.’

‘So, no pressure, then?’

Donald laughed and Felicity joined him as the train nudged forward. ‘And we’re away,’ he said.

Felicity looked out the window. The platform appeared to be moving as the train slowly and silently pulled away. ‘Let me know if you need anything. Dinner’s served at seven.’

Felicity nodded then turned back to the window, sighing happily.

* * *

Felicity emerged from her compartment half an hour later. She’d stared out the window, watching the inner city give way to cluttered suburbs then to the more sparse outlying areas as it headed for the Blue Mountains. And now it was time to meet her fellow travellers.

Her neighbour’s door was still firmly closed as she headed out. Maybe she didn’t have one yet. Maybe they’d be joining the train at a later stop? Quelling her disappointment, she headed for the place she knew people would be—the lounge.

And she hit the jackpot. Half a dozen couples smiled at her as she stepped into the carriage, her legs already adjusted to the rock and sway of the train. She stopped at the bar and ordered a glass of bubbles from a guy called Travis. It was poured for her immediately and she made her way over to the semicircular couches where everyone was getting acquainted.

‘Hi,’ she said.

The group greeted her as one. ‘Sit down here with us, love,’ said an older man with a Scottish accent. The woman with him moved over and made some room. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t exactly look in the same demographic as the rest of us.’

Felicity laughed. ‘I have an old soul.’

Every other person in the lounge would have to have been in their sixties. At twenty-eight that made her the youngest by a good thirty years. Luxury train travel was clearly more a retiree option than a hip, young, cool thing to do.

But that was okay. She’d never been particularly hip or cool. She was a small-town nurse who genuinely liked and was interested in older people. She had a bunch of oldies at the practice who she clucked around like a mother hen and she knew this lot would probably be no different despite what would be a short acquaintance.

‘What do you do, dear?’ a woman with steel-grey hair over the other side of the lounge asked.

Felicity almost told them the truth but a sudden sense of self-preservation took over. If she told them she was a nurse, one of two things would happen. She’d have to give medical advice about every ache, pain or strange rash for the next twenty-four hours because, adore them as she did, too many people of the older generation loved to talk obsessively about their ailments. Or they’d pat her hand a lot and tell her continually that she was an angel.

If she was really unlucky, both would happen.

She might be a nurse but she was no saint and certainly no angel. In fact, that kind of language had always made her uncomfortable.

And she didn’t want to be the nurse from a small community where everyone knew her name on this train journey of a lifetime. She didn’t want to be the girl next door. She wanted to be as sophisticated and glamorous as her surroundings. She wanted to dress up for dinner and drink a martini while she had worldly conversations with complete strangers.

Nursing wasn’t glamorous.

‘Oh, I’m just a public servant,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively as she grabbed hold of the first job that came to mind. She doubted it was very glamorous either but it was one of those jobs that was both broad and vague enough to discourage discourse. Nobody really understood what public servants did, right? They certainly didn’t ask them about their jobs.

Or tell them about their personal medical issues.

‘What do you do?’ Felicity asked, and relaxed as the woman, called Judy, launched into a spiel about her job of forty years, which kicked off a conversation amongst them all about their former jobs, and that segued into a discussion about the economy and then morphed again into chatter about travel.

Felicity was in heaven. She was on a train surrounded by witty and enthusiastic companions on the inside and the rugged beauty of the Blue Mountains on the outside. For twenty-four hours she was determined to be a different person.

Tomorrow afternoon she’d be back home where everyone knew her name and stopped her in the street for advice about their baby’s fever, their weird allergies or their shingles. Where everyone called her ‘Flick’ and the guys called her ‘mate’ and the older women of the town tried to matchmake her with any remotely available male.

Tomorrow would be here soon enough. Today nobody knew her and she was going to revel in it for as long as she could.

* * *

The first thing Callum noticed when he entered the restaurant at seven sharp was the sexy blonde from the café. He blinked once or twice just to make sure it was her—his vision wasn’t the best after all. Then she laughed at something her companions were saying and it went straight to his chest and spiked through his pulse.

It was definitely her.

If he’d known she was in the platinum carriage too he wouldn’t have wasted the last few hours catching up on some essential reading his new boss had emailed and insisted he read before he started work.

‘Can I find you a dining companion, sir?’ Donald asked.

‘No,’ Callum said. The beautifully dressed tables seated four and there were several spare chairs around the elegantly appointed dining car but his gaze was glued to the empty one beside her. ‘I’ve found one.’

The corner of Donald’s mouth lifted a fraction. ‘Good choice, sir.’

It took him only a few more seconds to reach the empty chair next to blondie. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. The conversation stopped as all three diners turned to look at him. ‘Is this seat taken?’

Her eyes widened slightly. They were smoky grey and fringed by sable lashes. She stared at him for long moments and he stared right back. He liked that she seemed as confused by her reaction to him as he was to her.

She’d changed into a dress, a slinky black thing that showed off her neck and collarbones and crisscrossed at her cleavage. She was wearing lip gloss. Pink. Light pink—the colour of ballet shoes. The ends of her honey hair seemed curlier or maybe that was just a trick of the overhead light.

The old guy sitting opposite welcomed him heartily. ‘Sit down, young fella. Save this pretty young thing from having her ear bent off by us old fogies.’

Callum didn’t wait to be asked twice. He wasn’t someone who believed in instalove but he sure as hell believed in instalust. He may be rusty but he knew sexual interest when he saw it.

She sure as hell wasn’t looking at him with pity, like too many women had these past couple of years.

No more pity sex for him.

‘I’m Jock, this is my wife Thelma and the odd one out is Felicity.’

Callum shook Jock and Thelma’s hand and reached for blondie’s. Felicity. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he murmured, their eyes meeting again, an awareness that was almost tangible blooming between them.

‘You were in the café,’ she said after a beat or two, sliding her hand out of his.

He let it go reluctantly. ‘Yes.’ A purr of male satisfaction buzzed through his veins. She remembered him. Had she been checking him out at the same time he’d been ogling her?

‘I didn’t realise you were in the same carriage.’

‘I had some work to do.’ Callum grimaced. ‘I shut myself away for a while. I’m in number eight.’

‘Hey, you’re in nine, right?’ Jock asked Felicity jovially. ‘You’re neighbours.’

Callum smiled at her as he sent a quick thankyou up into the universe. Things were definitely looking up for him. She smiled back and for the first time in a long time his belly tightened in anticipation. His libido had taken a real battering since the accident, so it was a revelation to feel it rousing.

‘So, what do you do?’ Jock asked.

Callum dragged his gaze off Felicity and forced his attention on the couple opposite. She wasn’t the only person on the train and this was the way these social situations worked. You ate a good meal, drank good wine and made polite and hopefully interesting conversation with strangers.

God knew, he needed something like this to get himself out of his head. But he promised himself that later he would do his damnedest to shamelessly monopolise the woman beside him. They might not end up in bed together but he intended to flirt like crazy and see where it went.

‘I’m a technical writer,’ he said.

The well-practised lie rolled smoothly off his tongue. He still wasn’t used to the real answer. Becoming a GP after being an up-and-coming vascular surgeon was taking some getting used to. And he only had to look around at the age demographic of the other passengers in the carriage to know that admitting to being any kind of doctor would probably result in an avalanche of medical questions he just didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t want to be any kind of doctor tonight. He wanted to forget about the bitter disappointments of his career and just be a regular Joe. He wanted to be a man chatting to a woman hoping it might end up somewhere interesting.

‘Oh?’ Thelma asked, as she buttered the bread roll Donald had just placed on her plate. ‘What does that entail?’

‘Just boring things like industry articles and manuals,’ he dismissed. ‘Nothing exciting. What about you, Thelma? Are you still working?’

It was a good deflection and Thelma ran with it. The conversation shifted throughout the sumptuous three-course meal and it felt good to stretch his conversational muscles, which were rusty at best. Felicity, on the other hand, was a great conversationalist and Callum found himself relaxing and even laughing from time to time.

His awareness of her as a woman didn’t let up but the urgency to get her alone mellowed.

Like him, she seemed reluctant to talk about herself, expertly turning the conversation back to Thelma and Jock or himself and more neutral topics, such as travel and movies and sport. Consequently, the meal flew by as Felicity charmed them all. It was hard to believe he’d sat for two hours and not thought once about the accident and its repercussions on his life.

That wasn’t something anybody had achieved in the past two and a half years.

He went to bed thinking about it, he woke up thinking about it, and it dominated his thoughts far more than it should during the day.

He suddenly felt about a decade younger.

‘A few of us are retiring to the lounge for some after-dinner drinks,’ Jock said as he placed his napkin on the table. ‘I hope you’ll both join us.’

‘Of course,’ Felicity said, smiling at their companions before turning that lusciously curved mouth towards him. ‘You up for that? Or do you...have more work to do?’

Callum wanted nothing more than to invite her back to his compartment for some private after-dinner drinks. Their gazes locked and her cheeks pinked up and he wondered if she could read his mind. She was a strange mix of eagerness and hesitancy and Callum didn’t want to push or embarrass her.

But he could see in those expressive grey eyes that she didn’t want him to lock himself away again either.

‘I’d love to,’ he said, resigning himself to sharing her for a bit longer, to go slowly, to drag out a little more whatever it was that was building between them.

Anticipation buzzed thick and heavy through his groin.

* * *

Felicity found it hard to concentrate for the next couple of hours, aware of Mr Tall-Dark-and-Handsome sitting beside her in a way she hadn’t been aware of a guy in a long time. Every time he spoke or laughed it rumbled through his big thigh pressed firmly against hers and squirmed its way into her belly.

There was a sense that they were marking time and she was equal parts titillated and terrified. This being a whole other person thing wasn’t as easy to pull off as she’d thought but she’d never felt so alive either. So utterly buzzed.

Not even with Ned. Sure, he’d been the love of her life and being dumped by him had been crushing, but their love had grown out of friendship and a slow, gentle dawning.

This...thing was entirely different.

Was she seriously going to do this? Pick up a stranger on a train? Or let him pick her up? She might have limited experience of the whole pick-up scene but she was pretty sure that’s exactly where they were heading. When she’d booked her train ticket, meeting a good-looking stranger hadn’t been part of her plan.

But here they were with a night full of possibilities stretching ahead of them.

One by one their companions left, withdrawing to their beds, making jokes about old bones and early nights. Felicity contemplated doing the sensible thing and following them. Retiring to her bed and the moonlit landscape flying by outside her window, tuning into the clickety-clack of the wheels as they rocked her to sleep.

But she didn’t.

‘Well,’ Jock said, standing, helping Thelma up as well. ‘This is way past our bedtime and my indigestion is playing up so we’ll be off too.’

Felicity smiled at them and bade them goodnight, excruciatingly conscious of Callum’s eyes on her as she watched their companions disappear from the lounge.

And then there were two.

‘Whew,’ he murmured, his gaze brushing over her neck and mouth, a smile tilting his lips into an irresistible shape. ‘I thought they’d never go to bed.’

Felicity blushed but she didn’t deny the sentiment. She’d thought exactly the same thing.

He tipped his chin at her martini glass. ‘Another drink?’

She hesitated. This was it. This was the moment. Was she going to be the sophisticated woman on the train or the girl next door?

‘It’s only eleven,’ he coaxed. ‘I promise to have you back to your compartment before you turn into a pumpkin.’

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. The man had a PhD in flirting. ‘Yeah. Okay. Sure.’

He grinned. ‘Good answer.’

Felicity’s mouth quirked in an answering grin. ‘Good question.’

She flat-out ogled him as he walked to the bar. She’d seen him in the café and had been struck by his presence but he’d seemed so brooding and intense, so closed off she hadn’t bothered to go there. He hadn’t put a foot wrong tonight, however.

Sure, there was still a brooding quality to the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, but he’d been witty and charming and great with all the oldies and, good Lord Almighty, the way he’d looked at her had been one hundred percent high-octane flirty.

Nothing brooding about it.

Even the way the man leaned against the bar was sexy. His expensive-looking charcoal trousers pulled nicely against his butt and hugged the hard length of his thighs.

And they were hard. And hot. She could still feel the imprint of them along her leg.

He’d worn a jacket to dinner but had since shed it to reveal a plain long-sleeved shirt of dark purple. The top two buttons had been left undone and about an hour ago he’d rolled up the sleeves to reveal tanned forearms covered in dark hair.

Those forearms had caused a cataclysmic meltdown in her underwear.

He turned slightly and smiled at her and Felicity sucked in a breath. The man was devastating when he smiled and it went all the way to his green eyes. It did things to his face, which was already far too handsome for any one man. Square jaw covered in dark, delicious stubble, strong chin, cheekbones that women would kill for and sandy-brown hair longer on the top and shorter at the sides.

Hair made to run fingers through.

His laughter drifted towards her as Travis handed over the drinks and said something she couldn’t quite hear. She liked how it sounded. How it rumbled out of him. She got the sense he didn’t do a hell of a lot of it, though, which was a shame. That laugh was turning her insides to jelly.

The military should employ him as a secret weapon.

He headed in her direction, his gait compensating for the rock of the train. She probably should be glued to the window, watching the moonlit bush whizzing by, and not be so obvious, but she figured they were beyond the point of being coy and, frankly, he was too damn hard not to look at with his long stride and knowing smile.

He placed her glass down and sat opposite her this time, a low table between them. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. Neither, she concluded as he filled her entire field of vision and everything else became pretty much irrelevant.

‘To strangers on a train,’ he said, lifting his whisky glass, that smile still hovering.

She tapped hers against it. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

CHAPTER TWO

FELICITY WAS CONSCIOUS of his gaze as it followed the press of her lips then lowered to the bob of her throat as she swallowed. She was grateful for the cold, crisp martini cooling her suddenly parched mouth.

‘So...what’s a young ’un—’ he injected Jock’s Scottish brogue into the words and Felicity smiled ‘—like yourself doing on a train with the cast from Cocoon? Lots more people your age down in the cheap seats. Unless... Wait, are you some kind of heiress or something?’

‘No.’ Felicity laughed at the apt description of their travelling companions and at the thought of her being some little rich girl, although she had inherited enough money from her grandfather to buy a small cottage. ‘I’m not. And you don’t look like you’re of retirement age either. You’re, what? Thirty-five?’

She’d been wondering how old he was all night and this seemed like as good an opener as any.

‘Close,’ he murmured. ‘Thirty-four. And you?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

‘Ah...’ He gave a long and exaggerated sigh. ‘To be so young and carefree again.’

Felicity laughed at his teasing but was struck by the slight tinge of wistfulness. ‘Oh, no,’ she teased back. ‘You poor old man.’

He grinned at her and every fibre of her being thrilled at being the centre of his attention. ‘Seriously, though,’ he said, sobering a little, ‘why the train?’

‘My grandfather was a railway man through and through. Fifty years’ service as a driver and he never got tired of trains. Of talking about them, photographing them and just plain loving everything about them. We’d go on the train into the city every day when I used to stay with them in the school holidays and he’d take me to the train museum every time without fail.’

He frowned. ‘Didn’t that get boring after a while?’

Felicity shook her head. ‘Nah. He always made it so exciting. He made it all about the romance of train travel and I lapped it up.’

‘Romance, huh?’ He raised an eyebrow as his gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘Smart man.’

Felicity’s belly flopped over. ‘That he was.’

If tonight was anything to go by, her grandfather was a damn genius.

She stared into the depths of her frosty glass as her fingers ran up and down the stem. ‘He spent his entire life saying that one day he was going to take my grandmother on the Indian Pacific for a holiday of a lifetime. Then, after my grandmother died when I was twenty, he used to tell me one day he and I would go on it together. He died last year, having never done it, but he left me some money so...here I am.’

The backs of Felicity’s eyes prickled with unexpected tears and she blinked them away.

‘Hey.’ His hand slid over hers. ‘Are you okay?’

‘God, yes,’ she said, shaking her head, feeling like an idiot. Way to put a downer on the pick-up! ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so maudlin. I’m stupidly sentimental. Ignore me.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’ He smiled, removing his hand. ‘Better than being cold and hard.’

Felicity returned his smile. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. Sometimes, though, she had to wonder. If she was a little more hard-hearted she probably wouldn’t fret so much about her patients or become so personally involved. It would make it much easier to leave it all behind at the end of the day.

‘What about you?’ she said, determined to change the subject. To get things back on track. ‘Why the train?’

‘I guess I’m a bit like your grandfather. Always loved trains. Doing all the great train journeys of the world is a bucket-list thing for me and when I had to travel to Adelaide I thought, Why not?’

It was stupid to feel any kind of affinity with a man—this man—because he was a train guy. Especially when up until about eight hours ago she hadn’t even known him. But somehow she did. Her grandfather had always said train people were good people and, even though he’d been biased, right at this moment Felicity couldn’t have agreed more.

Callum was ticking all her boxes.

‘So...’ He took a sip of his whisky. ‘Felicity...’

Goose-bumps broke out on her arms and spread across her chest, beading her nipples as he rolled the word around his mouth. She’d never heard her name savoured with such carnal intensity. It sure as hell made her wonder what it would sound like as he groaned it into her ear when he came.

Lordy. Another box ticked.

‘Is that a family name?’

She cleared her throat and her brain of the sudden wanton images of him and her twisted up in a set of sheets. ‘Nope. My mother just liked it, I think. And I don’t really get called that anyway.’

‘Oh?’ He frowned. ‘You get Fliss?’

Felicity grimaced. ‘Flick, actually.’

‘Flick.’

He rolled that around too but it didn’t sound quite the same as when he’d used her full name. She didn’t hate the nickname, she’d never known anything else, but she didn’t want to be a Flick tonight.

Tonight she wanted to be Felicity.

She shrugged. ‘My cousin couldn’t pronounce my full name when she was little and it stuck.’

He lazed back in his chair, his long legs casually splayed out in front of him, the quads moving interestingly beneath the fabric of his trousers. ‘You don’t look much like a Flick to me,’ he mused.

Felicity’s pulse fluttered as she suppressed the urge to lean across and kiss him for his observation. The sad fact was, though, in her everyday life she did look like a Flick. Her hair in its regulation ponytail, wearing her nondescript uniform or slopping around in her jeans and T-shirt.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, raising her glass to him and taking a sip.

‘My brother calls me Cal.’

Felicity studied him for a moment. ‘Nope. You definitely don’t look like a Cal.’

‘No?’

Felicity smiled at the faux wounded expression on his face. ‘No.’

‘What do Cals look like?’

‘Cals are the life of the party,’ she said, happy to play along. ‘They’re wise-cracking, smart-talking, laugh-a-minute guys. You’re way too serious for a Cal.’

He laughed but it wasn’t the kind of rumbly noise she’d come to expect. It sounded hollow and didn’t quite reach his eyes. Crap. She’d insulted him somehow. Way to turn a guy off, Flick.

She had to fix it. Fix it, damn it!

‘Anyway,’ she said, hoping like hell she sounded casual instead of panicked. Nothing like ruining their evening before it had progressed to the good bit. ‘I like Callum. It’s very...noble.’

A beat or two passed before he laughed again, throwing his head back. It was full and hearty with enough rumble to fill a race track. It rained down in thick, warm droplets and Felicity wanted to take her clothes off and get soaking wet.

The laughter cut out and he fixed her with his steady gaze. ‘Just so you know, I’m not feeling remotely noble right now.’

Felicity’s belly clenched hard and she swallowed. Eep! This was really going to happen. He downed his whisky and put the glass on the table. ‘Would you like to come back to my compartment?’

She cursed her sudden attack of nerves. But this wasn’t her. She didn’t do this kind of thing. Could she pull it off?

‘Hey,’ he said, leaning forward at the hips and placing his hand over hers. ‘We don’t have to. I just thought...’

Yeah. He’d thought she was interested because she’d practically done everything but strip her clothes off and sit in his lap. God, she must look like some freaked-out virgin. Or some horrible tease.

Felicity could feel it all slipping away. She didn’t want to pass this up, damn it, but she hadn’t expected to feel so...conflicted about it when it came to the crunch.

So she did what she always did in lineball calls. She picked up her phone.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m asking Mike what he thinks I should do.’

A bigger frown this time. ‘Mike?’

‘Yeah. You know, the guy in my phone who talks to me and tells me stuff like why the sky is blue and where the nearest hairdresser is.’

He chuckled. ‘Yours is a dude?’

She shrugged. ‘You can choose and Mike sounds like Richard Armitage so it was a no-brainer.’

‘And do you always let your phone decide such things?’

‘Sometimes. It’s the modern-day coin toss, right?’

He chuckled again. ‘Well, this ought to be interesting.’

Felicity grinned as she pushed a button and brought her phone up closer to her mouth. ‘Mike, should I go back to Callum’s?’

The phone gave an electronic beep then a stylised male voice spoke in a sexy English accent. ‘Is he good enough?’

They both laughed then he grabbed her wrist and brought the phone closer to his mouth. Her pulse point fluttered madly beneath his fingers as their gazes locked. A smile played on his mouth again as he spoke into the microphone, his eyes firmly fixed on her. ‘He’s very good, Mike.’

Felicity’s toes curled in her pumps at the sexually suggestive reply. That wasn’t what Mike had meant.

‘Does he know how to treat a woman?’

He didn’t laugh this time, just eyed her intently as he replied. ‘Oh, yeah. He knows exactly how to treat a woman.’

‘Then you don’t need me to decide, Felicity.’

He released her hand, slowly, still holding her gaze with a red-hot intensity. ‘Looks like the ball is in your court.’

Felicity’s heart tripped as he fixed her with a gaze that left her in no doubt they were both going to be naked within about ten seconds of the door shutting. Her breath hitched but she was aware of Travis, still at the bar, in her peripheral vision.

What would he think if they left together? Would he gossip about it with the rest of the crew? Would everyone know in the morning that she and Callum had spent the night together?

If she was back home in Vickers Hill, everyone would know.

But she wasn’t. Was she? She wasn’t Flick here. She was Felicity and nobody knew her.

Felicity picked up her glass and swallowed the last quarter in three long gulps. She stood, her body heating as his lazy gaze took its sweet time checking her out. ‘Your compartment or mine?’

He smiled, downed the last of his whisky and held out his hand. She took it, smiling also, tugging on his hand, impatient now she’d taken the first step to get on with it.

Jock entered the lounge at that moment and Felicity halted, letting go of Callum’s hand immediately, like a guilty teenager. The older man was in a pair of tracksuit pants and a white singlet.

‘Jock,’ she said, smiling as she walked towards him, aware of Callum close on her heels. ‘Thought you’d be in the land of nod by now.’

Jock gave them a tight smile. ‘So did I but...’ He rubbed his chest. ‘My indigestion is really giving me hell tonight. I thought I’d come and ask Travis for a glass of milk. That usually does the trick.’

Felicity felt the first prickle of alarm as she neared Jock. The subdued night-time lighting in the lounge hadn’t made the sweat on his brow and the pallor of his face obvious.

‘Jock?’ She frowned. ‘Are you okay?’

Callum stepped out from behind her, also frowning. ‘You don’t look very well.’

‘You need to sit down, I think,’ Felicity said, ushering him over to the closest chair.

‘Do you have any cardiac history?’ Callum asked as Jock swayed a little, reaching for the arm of the couch.

‘No. Never had any ticker prob—’

Jock didn’t get to finish his sentence. He grabbed his chest and let out a guttural cry instead, folding to his knees.

Adrenaline surged into Felicity’s veins. ‘Jock!’ she said, throwing herself down next to him.

But it was too late. He collapsed the rest of the way, splayed awkwardly on the floor. Felicity gave him a shake but there was nothing.

‘He’s having an MI,’ Callum said as he helped Felicity ease Jock on his back.

Felicity blinked at the terminology. An MI, or myocardial infarction, was not a term a layperson used. Nonmedical people said heart attack. ‘He doesn’t have a pulse,’ she said, feeling for his carotid.

‘Oh, my God, what’s wrong with him?’ an ashen-faced Travis asked, hovering over them.

‘I’ll start compressions,’ Felicity said, ignoring the bartender as more adrenaline surged into her system and she kicked into nursing mode.

‘He’s in cardiac arrest,’ Callum said as he automatically moved around until Jock’s head was at his knees. Felicity admired the steadiness of his voice and the expert way he tilted Jock’s jaw and gave his airway support.

Technical writer be damned.

‘Do you guys keep a defib?’ Callum demanded. ‘Some kind of first aid kit? We need more help. And we need to figure out how to get him to an ambulance.’

Felicity couldn’t agree more. She had no idea if that was possible but she knew they couldn’t keep him alive indefinitely. Jock needed more than they could give him here on a luxury train in the middle of nowhere.

Things were looking grim for the travelling companion she’d grown fond of in just a few hours.

‘Yes. We have a defib,’ Travis said, his voice tremulous as Felicity counted out the compressions to herself. ‘But I’ve never actually used it on a real person before.’

‘It’s fine. I’m a doctor,’ Callum said, his voice brisk.

Felicity glanced at Callum, not surprised at the knowledge given his use of medical terminology and his total control of the scene.

‘And I’m a nurse.’

He glanced at her but didn’t say anything, just nodded and said, ‘Go,’ to Travis as he leaned down and puffed some breaths into Jock’s mouth.

It was satisfying to see Jock’s chest rise and fall. CPR guidelines had changed recently, focusing more on chest compressions for those untrained in the procedure. But for medical professionals who knew what they were doing airway and breathing still formed part of the procedure.

And old habits died hard.

* * *

Callum’s training took over and all his senses honed as he rode the adrenaline high, doing what he did best—saving lives. Travis was back in under a minute, bringing a portable defibrillator, a medical kit and the cavalry, who arrived in varying states of panic. He tuned them all out as he grabbed the defibrillator, turned it on, located some pads, yanked up Jock’s singlet and slapped them on his chest.

Even Felicity in her dress and heels, pumping away on Jock’s chest beside him, faded to black as he concentrated on Jock. Once this was over—which could be soon if they couldn’t revive Jock—he’d think about her being a nurse. About how they’d both lied. For now he just had to get some cardiac output.

Felicity stopped compressions while the machine was reading the rhythm. Callum opened the medical kit, relieved to find an adult resus mask. At least he could give Jock mouth to mask now.

The machine advised a shock.

‘All clear,’ Callum said, raising his voice to be heard above everyone talking over everyone else.

Felicity wriggled back. So did he as the room fell silent. The machine automatically delivered a shock, Jock’s chest arcing off the floor.

‘Recommence CPR,’ the machine advised, and they both moved back in, Felicity pounding on the chest again as he fitted the mask and held it and Jock’s jaw one-handed.

‘Where’s the nearest medical help?’ Callum demanded of a guy with a radio who appeared to be the head honcho.

‘We’re about twenty clicks out of Condobolin. Ambulance will meet us at the station. A rescue chopper is being scrambled from Dubbo.’

‘How long will it take to get to Condobolin?’

‘The driver’s speeding her up. Fifteen minutes tops.’

Callum wasn’t sure Jock had fifteen minutes, especially if he wasn’t in a shockable rhythm. He wished he had oxygen and intubation gear. He wished he had an IV and access to fluids and drugs. He wished he had that ambulance right here right now. And a cardiac catheter lab at his disposal.

But he didn’t. He had a defibrillator and Felicity.

He glanced at her. He didn’t have to ask to know she was thinking the same thing. Fifteen minutes was like a lifetime in this situation, where every second meant oxygen starvation of vital tissues.

‘Piece of cake,’ she muttered, a small smile on her lips, before returning her attention to the task at hand.

He smiled to himself as he leaned down to blow into the mask. There was controlled panic all around him, with orders being given and radio static and the loud clatter of wheels on the track as the train sped to Condobolin. Somewhere he could vaguely hear poor Thelma sobbing. But amidst it all Felicity was calm and determined and so was he. Fifteen minutes? He’d done CPR for much longer.

‘Check rhythm.’

Felicity stopped so the machine could do its thing. When it recommended another shock they followed the all-clear procedure again and once more the entire lounge fell silent, apart from Thelma’s sobs.

Jock’s chest arced again but this time it was successful.

‘Normal rhythm,’ the machine, no bigger than a couple of house bricks, pronounced.

Felicity gasped, a broad smile like the rising sun breaking over her face. ‘I’ve got a pulse,’ he confirmed, grinning back. ‘Jock?’ Callum pulled the mask away. ‘Can you hear me, Jock?’

Jock gave a slight moan and made a feeble attempt to move a hand. ‘Jock? Jock!’ Thelma threw herself down beside them.

‘Is he okay?’ she asked, looking first at Callum then at Felicity through puffy red eyes.

‘We got him back,’ Callum said. Both of them knew he wasn’t out of danger but it was something.

Felicity reached across and squeezed Thelma’s arm. ‘He’s still very unstable,’ she said gently. ‘But it’s a good sign.’

Callum was relieved when the train pulled into the station, even if the strobing of red and blue lights around the iron and tin structure of the roof created a bizarre discotheque. Very quickly a drowsy Jock was transported out of the train to the ambulance, accompanied by a paramedic, Callum, Felicity, Thelma and the rail guy with the radio.

Finally Callum had access to oxygen and a heart monitor. It was worrying to see multiple ectopic beats and runs of ventricular tachycardia, though, and Callum crossed his fingers that Jock’s heart would hold out until he got the primary cardiac care he so urgently needed.

Callum and the paramedic whacked in two large-bore IVs and then Felicity was helping Thelma into the ambulance and he was getting in the back with Jock. There was no question in his mind that he’d stay with the old man and hand over to the medivac crew when they landed at the airstrip in approximately fifteen minutes’ time.

He glanced out the back window as the rig pulled away, the siren a mournful wail in the deserted streets of the tiny outback town. Felicity was framed in the strobing lights, staring after the ambulance. She looked exactly the way he suspected they all probably looked. A little shell-shocked as the adrenaline that had ridden them hard started to ebb.

But also strong and calm. As she had been throughout.

This was not how he’d pictured tonight would end, and as the mantle of regret settled into his bones he knew their moment had passed.

He watched her with a heavy heart until she faded from sight.

CHAPTER THREE

FELICITY LAY AWAKE on her bed an hour later, staring out the window. The train was still stationary at Condobolin station, which was in darkness after the ghoulish flashing of emergency lights. Her compartment was also in darkness, except for the slice of light coming in from the hallway through her open door.

Callum hadn’t returned and she couldn’t sleep.

After the ambulance had disappeared she’d gone back to her compartment and showered, standing beneath the spray shaking like a leaf as the adrenaline that had sustained her during the emergency had released her from its grip.

She’d waited around in the lounge for a while after they’d gone, thinking Callum would be back soon. Some of her fellow passengers joined her, curious to know what was happening, but they didn’t linger and eventually Donald had urged her to go back to her compartment and try and get some sleep.

But she couldn’t. It was hard to shut her brain down after what had transpired.

She was about to give up, switch her light on and grab a book out of her bag when Callum strode by her door.

‘Oh...hi,’ he said, obviously surprised to see her awake and her door open as he pulled up short. She’d deliberately left it ajar because she didn’t want to miss his return.

Felicity sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘You’re back.’ She stood and took a couple of paces towards him, conscious, as he took up all the space in her doorway, of how different she looked now in loose yoga pants and T with bare feet, compared to the high-heeled, little-black-dress woman he’d been flirting with earlier.

He looked exactly the same. Only sexier. His calm and control when everyone else around them had been losing their heads had kicked his good looks up to a whole other level.

Why was competence so damn attractive?

‘How’s Jock? Did the medivac transfer go smoothly?’

‘Not really. He went into VF while we were waiting for the plane and we had to shock him twice to get him back.’

Felicity pressed her hand to her mouth, a hot spike of concern needling her. ‘I was worried something was going down. You were gone so long.’

‘I stuck around and helped them stabilise him for transport.’

‘Of course.’ They’d have wanted to have everything as controlled as possible before they loaded him on the chopper to avoid any chance of midair deterioration. ‘What are his chances, do you think?’ she asked, folding her arms.

‘I don’t know. He’s not very stable at the moment. It’s a forty-minute chopper flight to Dubbo hospital and by that time he’ll be about ninety minutes post–cardiac tissue injury. He’s inside the window, so fingers crossed, with some tertiary management he should be okay. I’ll check on him when we get into Adelaide tomorrow.’

Felicity nodded. ‘I guess we’re going to be kind of late into Adelaide.’

‘I guess we are. Although Donald reckons they’ll be able to make up a lot of the time.’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ she said, and gave him a smile because she could stay on this train and look at him for a decade and it probably still wouldn’t be long enough.

He smiled back, his gaze locking with hers. ‘Neither am I.’

There was silence for a beat or two while they just stood and smiled at each other in some weird moment of shared intimacy as only two people who’d been through such a high-stakes ordeal could.

The train moved forward unexpectedly and jostled him inside the compartment, bringing him a step closer. He ducked his head down to glance out the window. ‘Looks like we’re off.’

‘Yes,’ Felicity said, as she half turned to find the darkened station platform appearing to slowly move.

When she turned back he was staring at her with heat in his eyes. They’d been flirty earlier but now they were just plain frank. His gaze dropped to her mouth as he took a step towards her. Her breath hitched. The atmosphere thickened and pulsed with promise.

She’d resigned herself to this not happening but suddenly it was on again.

‘So...’ She swallowed to moisten her suddenly parched throat as he loomed big and broad and close enough to reach out and touch. ‘Not a technical writer, huh?’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Not a public servant?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to be regaled with a dozen different medical stories or be canonised as some kind of saint.’

‘You’re forgetting about the lectures on the state of the health-care system.’

She laughed. ‘Those too.’

Felicity supposed she should ask him more about his medical background but right now she didn’t care. Not with her pulse fluttering madly at her temple and warmth suffusing her belly. ‘You were great out there.’

‘So were you.’

‘Not quite what I expected would happen tonight.’

He smiled. ‘Me neither.’ And then, ‘Are you...okay? It was kind of intense. The adrenaline was flowing.’

‘Sure, steady as a rock.’ Felicity held up a hand horizontally. It betrayed her completely by trembling.

‘So I see.’

Felicity glanced from it to him, conscious of the sway of the train. Conscious that she was far away from Vickers Hill.

It emboldened her.

‘That’s not from the accident.’

Her hand was trembling for reasons that were far more primal.

He regarded her for long moments before turning slightly and reaching for the door behind him to shut it. He turned the lock with a resounding click, the noise slithering with wicked intent to all her secret places.

They were truly alone now.

Darkness pressed in on her, the only light entering from the strip at the bottom of the door and the moonlight pushing in through the window. It was enough to allow her eyes to adjust quickly.

Enough to see Callum.

He turned to face her, stepped closer, so close his breath warmed her forehead. He reached for her hand, which had fallen by her side. ‘Maybe you just need to...’ he slid her hand onto his chest, flattening it over his heart, his big hand holding hers in place ‘...grab hold of something solid?’

Felicity dropped her gaze to their joined hands. Each thud of his heart reverberated through her palm, scattering awareness to every cell of her body. She’d never had a one-night stand or done anything so spontaneous. But on a night when she’d been reminded how precarious life could be she needed it.

She needed this. She needed him.

The clickety-clack of the wheels on the track faded. ‘Maybe I do,’ she murmured, the scent from his citrusy cologne filling her senses until she was dizzy with wanting him.

Like a slice of lime after a shot of tequila.

His kiss, when it came, was gentle. So gentle it almost made her cry. It was long and slow and sweet. It was everything she hadn’t known she needed in this moment.

Earlier, if she’d been asked how this would go down, she would have said fast and furious. But this was infinitely better. Burning slow and bright, building in increments that piled on top of the next, making her yearn and ache and want even as it soothed and sated.

His hands slid around her waist. Her arms snaked around his neck. He drew her closer. She lifted up onto tiptoe.

Their hearts thundered together.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. His eyes roved over her face, glittering with the kind of fever that also burned in her. What was he looking for?

Permission. Submission?

He had it.

‘I knew you’d taste this good,’ he muttered, the low, husky rumble stroking right between her legs.

His next kiss wasn’t long and sweet and slow. It was hot and fast and dirty. Just as she’d imagined it would be. His lips were firm and insistent, his tongue seeking entry, which she gave him on a greedy moan. His hands slid under her T-shirt, tightening her belly and heating her blood to well past boiling.

She was so damn hot and horny she could barely see. She certainly couldn’t think. All she could do was feel. And surrender.

Her bra snapped open and she gasped and pressed into his palm when his hand cupped a breast.

‘God,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You feel good.’

Felicity moaned as his thumb taunted her erect nipple. ‘Don’t stop.’

He did, but only temporarily as he whisked both her T-shirt and bra off. ‘Oh, yes,’ he muttered, as he drank in the sight of her bare breasts, one hand sliding around her back, pulling her closer as he lowered his head to the opposite nipple and drew it deep into the warm cavern of his mouth.

Felicity sucked in a breath, her back arching, her hand sinking into the silky softness of his hair. His mouth tugged relentlessly at the nipple and it was equal parts delicious and dangerous. A tingling between her legs built with every hot swipe of his tongue as if he was licking her there instead.

Just then the train clacked loudly and jostled them apart as it got up to speed. Felicity held on to him, her hands curling around his biceps as their bodies lurched to the movement. His hard thighs bracketed hers, steadying them.

Hell. She’d forgotten she was even on a train. The noise of the wheels on the track and the sway was something she’d quickly become accustomed to.

And nothing outside the havoc of his mouth had registered.

‘How about we get horizontal?’ he suggested, his lips buzzing her neck, his big hands anchored to the small of her back. ‘Before we injure ourselves?’

Felicity laughed at the imagery of them being found by Donald in the morning sprawled on the floor, her still half-naked.

God, this was totally insane.

She couldn’t believe she was doing it. Getting down and dirty in her train compartment with a comparative stranger.

It was exciting and titillating and scandalous and there was nothing she wanted more.

She slid her hands onto his and eased them off her, keeping hold of him as she walked backwards the two paces required to reach her bed. The backs of her thighs hit her mattress and she sat down, looking up at him, their hands still joined.

She eased her legs apart slightly and was thrilled when he stepped between them. He released himself from her grip and cupped her face with both of his hands.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured.

‘You’re not so bad yourself.’ There was a classic beauty to the angle of his jaw, the blade of his cheek, the cut of his mouth.

Lordy, that mouth.

He smiled, his fingers burrowing into her hair. ‘Lie back.’

Felicity shook her head as her gaze zeroed in on his fly, which was, most conveniently, at eye level. ‘Soon,’ she muttered, reaching out to walk her fingers along the thick bulge testing the strength of his zipper.

He sucked in a breath and a dizzying hit of sexual power surged through her system.

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ he said, but the subtle increase in pressure through his finger pads on her scalp betrayed his true desire.

‘You don’t like?’ she asked, blinking up at him with as much innocence as she could muster.

‘Oh, no,’ he said with a shaky laugh. ‘I like. Probably won’t last too long, though. It’s been...a bit of a dry spell.’

Felicity didn’t understand why that titbit of information should make her so happy, but it did. She liked the idea of being the one to break his drought.

He was breaking hers after all.

‘Just a little taste.’ She smiled as she reached for his belt buckle.

He dropped his hands and let her have her way. Triumph pulsed through her system, rich and heady, quickening her heartbeat and tingling at the juncture of her thighs.

Her hands trembled as she undid his belt then popped the button. She glanced at him as her fingers toyed with the zipper tab. He was watching her, his eyes hooded, his mouth full and brooding.

She couldn’t wait to feel it on her again. Her mouth. Her neck. Her breasts.

Lower.

But for now it was her turn. Her mouth.

Felicity’s pulse tripped as she slid the zip down and the fabric peeled back to reveal his impressive girth stretching the limits of his briefs. She looked up at him, her pulse skipping a beat to find him still watching her intently. Locking her gaze with his, she slid a hand up his thigh, inside his underwear and grasped the steely length of his erection.

He shut his eyes and groaned as she pulled it free. The sound was low and needy, sluicing over her like warm rain. His hand slid onto her shoulder and squeezed before his eyes drifted open again.

She made sure he was focusing on her before she transferred her attention to the solid weight of him in her palm and thanked whoever was the patron saint of trains for that strip of light at the bottom of the door allowing her a visual she was never going to forget.

He was big and hard and perfect. Thick and long. And for tonight—what was left of it—hers.

She leaned forward, placed her lips against the rigid perfection of him, kissing him there like he had first kissed her. Slowly and gently, testing things out, discovering his contours and the heady aroma of him, teasing him a little with her light kisses.

It wasn’t until his quad started to tremble beneath her palm that she realised the level of control he was exercising. She glanced at him, seeing it in the taut planes of his face, feeling it in his grip on her shoulder. So she shut her eyes and let him have it all, leaning forward, pleasuring him with her mouth, taking him in as far as she could.

‘Yes-s-s,’ he hissed, sliding both hands into her hair. ‘Yes.’

His gratification spurred her on and she went harder, revelling in the husky timbre of his breath and the utter hedonism of giving oral pleasure to a man she barely knew while she was topless in the privacy of a luxury train compartment.

She felt wild and reckless and completely wanton.

So freaking James Bond.

And she was never going to forget this night as long as she lived.

‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. ‘We have to stop.’

But Felicity barely heard him. She was swept away in the moment, her pulse roaring through her ears.

It wasn’t until he said, ‘Stop,’ again and pulled away that Felicity tuned back in.

‘Sorry,’ he panted. ‘I’m too close...’

His forehead was scrunched, his lips tight. He looked in pain and completely undone, looming over her almost fully dressed, still potently aroused but somehow achingly vulnerable.

He didn’t look like a man who was used to that state of being. His vulnerability hit her hard in the soft spongy spot that was never too far from the surface. She’d give him just about anything right now.

‘What do you need?’

‘To be in you.’ He ducked down and kissed her hard. ‘Now.’

The compartment tilted as the dizzying effects of the kiss continued even after it had finished.

Him in her? Now? That she could accommodate.

She shimmied back on the bed, dragging her yoga pants and underwear off in the process, aware of him watching the jiggle of her breasts with laserlike focus.

‘Well?’ she said as she wriggled to the centre of the bed, her nipples responding blatantly to his unashamed gaze. ‘Am I the only one getting naked?’

‘Nope.’ He grinned, immediately toeing off his shoes and hauling his still-buttoned shirt over his head.

Watching him strip was sexy. Him watching her watch him strip even more so.

Felicity salivated at the perfection of his chest. It was wide at the shoulders, narrow at the waist. The muscles of his abdomen were defined but not excessively. Tanned and smooth, there was only a fine trail of hair trekking south from his belly button.

She wanted to kiss his chest. Smell it. Lick it. Stroke her fingers over the hills and valleys of his abs, trail them between his hips and watch how it turned him on. Feel the weight of it as he pressed her into the bed.

He stripped off his trousers and underwear together, revealing long, lean legs—more athletic than meaty. Before kicking them away he quickly retrieved his wallet from his back trouser pocket and plucked out a foil packet.

‘Condom,’ he said, as he took the two paces to her bed.

Felicity smiled as she let her gaze roam over every inch of his body. He was six feet plus of lean male animal and he was hers. ‘Just the one?’

He put a knee on her mattress, tossing the packet near a pillow. ‘We’ll improvise.’ He smiled.

And then he was lying on his side next to her, his head propped on his hand, his other hand trailing down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, down to her stomach, swirling around her belly button before continuing south all the way down through the soft curls of her pubic hair, stopping just before he reached ground zero.

Felicity’s breath hitched as his finger hovered, taunting her. She doubted she’d last long either if he were actually to touch her.

She groped for the foil packet and thrust it at his chest. His totally freaking awesome chest. ‘In me. Now. Remember?’

He smiled, his finger circling just out of reach. ‘I can play a little first.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s been a while for me too.’

He regarded her for a moment before taking the condom and easing onto his back to roll it on. It was a position Felicity couldn’t resist, taking advantage of his momentary distraction to move on top of him, straddling his hips, his fully sheathed erection sliding deliciously through the slick heat between her legs.

‘God,’ he muttered, his hands drifting up her belly to her breasts. ‘You look magnificent.’

Felicity smiled as she arched her back and rubbed herself up and down the length of him. ‘I feel pretty damn magnificent right now.’

His thumbs brushed her nipples and she shut her eyes, revelling in the heady glow of sexual abandonment for a moment or two.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Her eyelids fluttered open to find him watching her again with an intensity that practically melted her into a puddle. She held his gaze as she leaned forward, tilting her pelvis and grasping his girth. His hands fell to her hips as she guided him to where she was slick and ready.

Where she needed him to be.

The feel of him there, so thick and big, was incredible. His eyes on her as she slowly sank down and he filled her—stretched her—was a whole different level. Felicity gasped as she settled flush against him, leaning forward with outstretched arms, bracing her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself as she took a breath.

‘So good,’ she muttered.

‘God, yes,’ he panted.

And it was. So good. Too good to just sit and do nothing. Too good not to move. Not to flex up and down and back and forth and round and round. Too good not to find a rhythm that was perfect and would drive them both towards a conclusion that had been building between them all night.

Her fingernails curled into his shoulders, his fingers gripped her hips like steel bands as they did just that, staring into each other’s eyes as the tempo picked up, finding a rhythm and an angle that tripped her switch. His fingers slid between her legs again, not teasing this time but going straight to the spot she needed it most and rubbing sure and hard.

Nothing fancy. Just merciless pressure.

‘God, yes,’ Felicity gasped, drumming her feet behind her on the bed, riding him harder, faster as the fabric of her world started to tear from the inside out. Her thighs trembled, her nails dug in a little harder, her belly pulled taut.

Her orgasm hit hard roaring from a tiny quiver to an all-consuming pleasure storm within seconds.

‘Yes,’ he muttered, working her harder, faster, vaulting upright to press his lips to her neck, whispering, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ as she slid her arms around his shoulders and came apart in his arms.

He flipped her on her back then, his forehead pressed into her neck, driving in faster and faster, sustaining her pleasure as he reached his own, groaning long and low into her ear as he came hard, sweat slicking the valley between his shoulder blades, his biceps trembling, her name on his lips as he spent himself inside her until he had no more to give and they both lay panting to the rock and sway of the train.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.