Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Kathryn Ross
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over the stove, breakfast forgotten. ‘Anything I can do?’
‘No, no. It’s just that Miriam wanted to go skydiving and she talked me into—’
‘You did what?’
‘You heard correctly,’ she said with a smile in her voice. ‘If ninety-year-olds can do it, why not me? When you get to my age you realise that sometimes you have to take chances before it’s too late. It was a tandem dive with a fully qualified instructor. Anyway,’ she hurried on before Matt could get another word in, ‘Miriam landed heavily and twisted her ankle. She lives alone and I’d like to stay on a day or two to help but I don’t want to put you out longer than I have to.’
‘No need to hurry back. Everything’s fine here.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ She paused. ‘How’s Eloise?’
He smiled at her usual formality. ‘Fine. The weather’s been a bit wet for gardening but I kept her busy.’ He was suddenly excruciatingly aware of how his response might be interpreted, so he added, ‘Your windows now sparkle.’
‘Oh. Thank her for me.’ Pause. ‘Matthew…I know when you’re not saying something…Have you been seeing her?’
Seeing her—Oh, yeah, images of last night were imprinted on his eyeballs. ‘She works for you, Belle, of course I have.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Don’t go getting any romantic ideas, Belle.’ He struggled with a feeling that he was scaling his own skyscraper with one hand tied behind his back. ‘It’s not…’
Then he noticed Ellie in the doorway, looking unsure, and Belle’s voice faded into the background. He beckoned her in. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard? And while he tried to recall what he’d said, he watched the way her nipples poked at her T-shirt as she stretched and studied the view from the window and everything else flew out of his mind.
He turned away, rattled off, ‘Have to go, Belle. We’re about to have breakfast. Talk to you soon, bye.’
Ellie’s arms dropped and she spun to him, the pleasure bleaching from her face. ‘Oh, that’s just peachy. Breakfast? You as good as told Belle, my employer, we’re sleeping together. Slept together,’ she corrected quickly, her eyes widening as if remembering that was all they’d agreed to.
‘I didn’t mention any names.’ His voice felt tight as he dropped the phone onto the table. ‘And so what if we did? We’re consenting adults.’ While Ellie sat down, he concentrated on sliding a plate piled with crisp bacon, eggs and buttered toast from the oven. He set it in front of her. ‘Eat before it gets cold.’
She bit into a piece of toast. ‘What about you?’
He moved away from her fresh scent before he said or did something unwise. ‘I’m going to take a shower first.’ With the safety of distance, he grinned, but it felt forced. ‘Leave some bacon for me.’
They’d ridden back to Melbourne soon after breakfast, arriving at Belle’s midmorning. Now Matt scowled at the garden in progress through the window while he spoke to a guy he knew about finding Ellie new accommodation.
He’d dropped Ellie back at her apartment. The cleaning crew had been; Matt had ensured her door was repaired and secure. Then he’d left. No suggestion of meeting up later. Nothing.
With arrangements to view a couple of places, he disconnected. He’d give her a call later, make sure everything was okay. Meanwhile there was a problem at one of the Sydney sites that couldn’t wait. He’d already made arrangements to fly there. Business was his priority, always had been—he’d see Ellie Tuesday.
Days away. He frowned. Memories of last night played over and over in his mind. How smooth and soft her skin felt against his when she’d wrapped her legs around him. Her impatient moans of passion against his ear. Her slick hot heat as he’d plunged inside her. She’d been so responsive, so satisfying. The best sex ever. From her response she thought so too.
Why wait for Tuesday?
Swiping up his keys, he headed out into the drab winter’s day.
‘Matt.’ Ellie pulled her door wider, staring at the man who’d left less than an hour ago. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘As a matter of fact…’ He stepped in, closing the door behind him and pulled her close, crushing her breasts against his chest and covering her mouth with his.
If she’d thought he’d changed his mind after last night, this hot, hard doubt-melting kiss proved her wrong. He lifted his head. ‘It doesn’t have to be one night, Ellie,’ he murmured, cruising his hands up her back.
‘What are you saying?’ As if she didn’t know.
As if she could think of the right response…the sensible response. After all, she’d heard him telling Belle not to get any romantic ideas…and despite their mutual understanding—that last night was one night and one night only—it had hurt. More than it should.
‘We could spend a few more days…and nights…enjoying getting to know each other better.’
She felt the demand in his fingers and stared up into impatient dark eyes. Less than twelve hours ago she’d seen passion burning bright in those eyes. It was still there, dark and smouldering. One move, one spark, and they’d ignite.
She wanted to burn like that with him again.
But a few days, then what? He was talking about a few hours of pleasure between the sheets with maybe the odd candlelit dinner thrown in. And when put like that…was she really considering turning him down?
But something inside her cramped and twisted and she stepped back. Did she want to relive that familiar pain of being left behind when he moved on? To slice open those old wounds around her heart which had never completely healed?
He was suggesting a fling.
She didn’t do flings. And she didn’t do them for very good reasons.
She continued to back away until her backside hit the edge of the kitchen table. ‘I know what you’re asking.’ And you want to put a time limit on it. ‘Forget it. I enjoyed last night, and I would be lying to pretend otherwise, but—’
His mouth swooped down on hers again, cutting off her protests. His beautiful, beguiling, bewitching mouth. Tormenting her with all kinds of sweet temptation, promising all manner of dreamy delights. Delights he’d barely begun to show her last night, delights she’d barely begun to discover.
She wanted more. And he gave her more, with mouth and tongue, low-throated murmurs and clever hands. Not the blazing brush fire this time, but a hot steady burn, no less powerful in its intensity.
When he lifted his head and looked straight and clear into her eyes, she found herself clinging to his sweatshirt for support. Her head was spinning, her heart trying to catch up.
‘It was good between us last night,’ he murmured. ‘I want to pursue it. So do you.’
She closed her eyes, denying it, denying him. Denying herself. ‘No.’
‘Look me dead in the eye and tell me you don’t want to continue what we started.’
He cupped her jaw, thumbs whisking over her lips, and her brain shut down. ‘I don’t want you to—’ one hand skimmed down the centre of her body from neck to navel, down ‘—to…stop,’ she finished on a moan. She tried to move away again, but the table prevented her and it seemed her body had a will of its own. ‘I can’t think when you do that…’
‘Then look at me, be honest and tell me you don’t want me.’ The trace of his lips over her chin and down the side of her neck had her arching backwards over the table, his hand warm against her lower belly. Her feminine places swelled and throbbed. One touch and she was melting…