Waking Up In The Wrong Bed. Natalie Anderson
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Waking up with Mr. Wrong—quite literally!
When film location scout Ellie Summers sneaks into a colleague’s hotel room with seduction in mind, she’s thrilled by her own daring!
But the smug morning-after glow morphs into red-faced mortification when she wakes in the arms of a total stranger! Ruben Theroux might be fine with the situation, but a flustered Ellie most definitely is not.
Ellie’s only defence against this very attractive guy is to insist they’re friends only—strictly no benefits! But Ruben isn’t a successful businessman for nothing—they’ll be good together, and he’s happy to play dirty to get what he wants....
“I’m so sorry this happened,” she said again, determined to ignore the savage desire rippling through her like some internal beast that refused to be tamed. What kind of depraved animal had she turned into?
“I’m not.”
She hardly heard him as she apologized another ten times, interspersing the phrase with a few more choice words beneath her breath. Clutching the sheet to her with one hand, she put her now freezing hand to her face.
He sat up, resting his weight on one hand behind him, and spoke more forcefully. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”
That silenced her for all of a second. “You didn’t have much choice.” She looked across the bed at him. “I seduced you.” The guy had been sound asleep and she’d been stroking him all over. Like everywhere.
His smile burst forth again. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I said no.” He chuckled. “And it wasn’t like I was a virgin.”
Well, no, he hadn’t been that. Ellie bit her lips to stop from smiling. He’d had all the moves. And he executed another now—a languorous stretch that drew her attention once more to his completely fit length.
Hell, she had to move away before she did something stupid again. So she stood, taking the sheet with her. She didn’t care about leaving him exposed; he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Whereas all she wanted to do was hide. She tried to wind the sheet around herself, glanced up to see him watching closely— with undisguised amusement and arousal. Man, was he aroused.
“You’re free to take advantage of me anytime you like,” he said softly, lying back down again. “Or you can come back to bed and let me take advantage of you this time.”
Possibly the only librarian who got told off herself for talking too much, NATALIE ANDERSON decided writing books might be more fun than shelving them—and, boy, is it that! Especially writing romance—it’s the realization of a lifetime dream kick-started by many an afternoon spent devouring Grandma’s Harlequin romances....
She lives in New Zealand, with her husband and four gorgeous-but-exhausting children. Swing by her website, www.natalie-anderson.com, any time—she’d love to hear from you.
Waking Up In The Wrong Bed
Natalie Anderson
For June—thank you for giving us such a great port in our ground-shuddering storm.
We would have been lost if it weren’t for you.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
SOME wicked time beyond midnight, Ellie darted along the hallways of the luxury lodge in an almost sheer slip. The plush carpet absorbed the rapid beat of her bare feet. The puff of air-conditioning didn’t cool the mad heat blushing her skin. She was on an indulgence mission and, imprisoned by hedonistic—champagne-riddled—impulse, sanity didn’t stand a chance.
She danced down the stairs to the next level, to where she knew he was sleeping. She counted the doors—one, two, three—and opened the next.
But his bedroom was empty. The dim light of an almost moonless night invaded through open curtains, revealing no body-sized lump in the bed. In fact it was so smooth it looked like a perfectly iced cake.
Disappointment dashed her spirits—because she wasn’t hungry for cake. She was starving for something way more meaty than that. She’d gone fun-free for too long. So, inspired by the fabulosity of the location, she’d decided to hell with it and to take what he’d been offering for weeks. Until now she’d parried his flirtatious invites, unsure of his integrity. But here, in this most seductive location, what did anything matter but the moment? And this moment she wanted to enjoy some male, physical, attention. In a place as beautiful as this, surely fantasy could come true?
Yes. Having finally got the courage, she wasn’t going to let fate confound her. Reckless joie de vivre bubbled again and she slipped back out to the hall. Maybe she’d counted wrong, or had the wrong side of the corridor? She pivoted one eighty and counted again. One, two three. Carefully she turned the handle of the fourth door.
Occupied.
Her over-wired senses instantly assimilated the signs—warmth, gentle, regular breathing, a light spiced scent. She quietly closed the door behind her. A couple of steps in she nearly stumbled over the shoe. The size said it all—a man’s boot. This was the one, then.
The ten-inch gap in the curtains let in what light that waning moon threw. A gap that wide had to be deliberate—he must like to see the sun, moon and stars too. Smiling, she blinked to adjust her vision. Then, yes, in the wonderfully huge bed, she could just make out his laid-back shape, right in the centre. His dark hair contrasted against the white pillow, his face turned away from her. Then cloud crossed the moon, dulling the room to nothing but shades of black.
But she crept forward, heated inside and out.
‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘Are you asleep?’
Dumb question when she could hear the regularity of that breathing for herself.
‘Hey,’ she murmured again as she stretched across the bed, her hand out to touch...skin.
Oh, he was hot.
She snatched her fingers back, suddenly shy. Her heart bashed her ribs as adrenalin flooded, forcing a too-fast beat. She took a second to breathe, because never before had she slipped into the driver’s seat like this. Her throat blocked, she could think of nothing