From Fling to Forever. Avril Tremayne
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THREE
‘SORRY,’ ELLA SAID. ‘It’s just … I—I bled on you.’
‘Ella, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to touch me.’
‘Sorry,’ Ella said again, jerking her fingers away.
Aaron promptly contradicted himself by taking the hand she’d pulled away and pressing it against his chest. He could actually hear his heart thudding. It was probably thumping against her palm like a drum. He didn’t care. He wanted her hand on him. Wanted both her hands on him.
He could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the room, but except for that and his heart the silence was thick and heavy.
I don’t even like her. He said that in his head, but something wasn’t connecting his head to his groin, because just as the thought completed itself he tossed the gauze aside and reached for her other hand, brought it to his mouth, pressed his mouth there, kept it there.
Okay, so maybe you didn’t have to like someone to want them.
He really, really hadn’t expected to see her again. She was supposed to be in LA. Their ‘relationship’ should have begun and ended with one awkward conversation at a wedding.
And yet here he was. And here she was. And he had no idea what was going to happen next.
When he’d walked into that bar tonight and seen her with that idiot, he’d wanted to explode, drag her away, beat the guy senseless.
And he never lost his temper!
He’d been so shocked at his reaction he’d contemplated leaving the bar, going somewhere else—a different bar, for a walk, to bed, anything, anywhere else. But he hadn’t.
He’d only been planning on having one drink anyway, just a post-flight beer. But nope. He’d stayed, sensing there was going to be trouble. She’d laughed too much, drunk too much, Tom the idiot engineer had fondled her too much. Something was going to give.
And something definitely had.
And of course he’d been there smack bang in the middle of it, like he couldn’t get there fast enough.
And then his arms had been around her. And she’d snuggled against him. Her tongue on his neck. And he’d wanted her. Wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone in his life.
And it had made him furious.
Was making him furious now.
So why was he moving the hand he’d been holding to his mouth down to his chest, instead of letting it go?
His hands were only lightly covering hers now. She could break away if she wanted to. Bring him back to sanity. Please.
But she didn’t break away.
Her hands moved up, over his chest to his collarbones then shoulders. Confident hands. Direct and sure.
He stifled a groan.
‘You don’t want me.’ She breathed the words. ‘You don’t like me.’ But her hands moved again, down to his deltoids, stopping there. Her fingers slid under the short sleeves of his T-shirt, stroked.
This time the groan escaped as his pulse leapt.
Ella moved closer to him, sighed as she surrounded him with her arms, rested the side of her face against his chest then simply waited.
He battled himself for a long moment. His hand hovered over her hair. He could see the tremor in his fingers. He closed his eyes so the sight of her wouldn’t push him over the edge. That only intensified the sexy smell of her. Ella Reynolds. Tina’s sister. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t do this.’ Was that his voice? That croak?
He waited, every nerve tingling. Didn’t trust himself to move. If he moved, even a fraction …
Then he heard her sigh again; this time it signalled resignation, not surrender.
‘No, of course not,’ she said, and slowly disentangled herself until she was sitting safely, separately, beside him.
Whew. Catastrophe averted.
‘A shame,’ she said. Her voice was cool and so were her eyes as she reached out to skim her fingernail over his right arm, at the top of his biceps where the sleeve of his T-shirt had been pushed up just enough to reveal the lower edge of a black tattoo circlet. Her lips turned up in an approximation of a smile. ‘Because I like tattoos. They’re a real turn-on for me. Would have been fun.’
He stared at her, fighting the urge to drag her back against his chest, not quite believing the disdainful humour he could hear in her voice, see in her eyes. Wondering if he’d imagined the yielding softness only moments ago.
At Tina and Brand’s wedding he’d sensed that there was something wrong with her. It had made him uncomfortable to be near her. Made him want to get away from her.
He had the same feeling now. Only this time he couldn’t get away. He would be damned if he’d let Tina’s sister stagger home drunk and disorderly, with a pounding head and a split lip. Oh, yeah, that’s the reason, is it? Tina?
Ella shrugged—a dismissive, almost delicate gesture. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t press you,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve never had to beg for it in my life and I won’t start now, tattoos or not.’
She stood suddenly and smiled—the dazzling smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’d better go,’ she said.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he said, ignoring the taunt of all those men she hadn’t had to beg. None of his business.
‘I’ll walk.’
‘I’ll take you,’ Aaron insisted.
Ella laughed. ‘Okay, but I hope we’re not going to drag some poor driver out of bed.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Close enough. I can walk there in under ten minutes.’
‘Then we’ll walk.’
‘All right, then, lead on, Sir Galahad,’ Ella said lightly, mockingly.
And that was exactly why he didn’t like her.
Because she was just so unknowable. Contrary. Changeable. Ready to seduce him one moment and the next so cool. Poised. Amused. They made it to the street without him throttling her, which was one relief. Although he would have preferred a different relief—one for inside his jeans, because, heaven help him, it was painful down there. How the hell did she do that? Make him both want her and want to run a mile in the opposite direction?
Ella led off and Aaron fell into step beside her, conscious of her excruciatingly arousing perfume. The almost drugging combination of that scent, the damp heat, the sizzle and shout of the street stalls, the thumping music and wild shouts from the tourist bars, was so mesmerisingly exotic it felt almost like he was in another world. One where the normal rules, the checks and balances, didn’t apply.
The minutes ticked by. A steady stream of motorbikes puttered past. A short line of tuk-tuks carrying chatty tourists. Jaunty music from a group of street musicians. Sounds fading as he and Ella walked further, further.
‘Needless to say, tonight’s escapade is not something Tina needs to hear about,’ Ella said suddenly.
‘Needless to say,’ he agreed.
A tinkling laugh. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t want it getting back to your wife either. At least, not the latter part of the evening.’
‘Ex-wife,’ Aaron corrected her. He heard a dog barking in the distance. A mysterious rustle in the bushes near the road.
‘Ah.’ Ella’s steps slowed, but only very briefly. ‘But not really ex, I’m thinking, Sir Galahad.’
Aaron