Untamed Bachelors: When He Was Bad... / Interview with a Playboy / The Shameless Life of Ruiz Acosta. Kathryn Ross
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didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding into her flattened palms. Then she slid them down again and wrapped them around his waist, and leaned in so her breasts pushed against his chest.
He let his hands wander too, over the smooth creamy column of her neck, the delicate heart pendant she wore, inside her jacket until they found the neckline of her dress. Down, palms skimming the outside of her breasts, the womanly shape where her waistline dipped, then flared again as he traced her hips. She was perfection. He wanted more. And with the way she was melting against him, it would appear he was in luck.
Ellie’s knees were so loose it was a minor miracle she didn’t collapse right there on the pavers. Her pulse thundered, her blood sizzled. Her only thought was she couldn’t believe that she was letting this man—this godlike man who smelled sinfully good and probably did this every night of the week with a different woman—kiss her to kingdom come.
Then her eyes closed, her mind shut down and all she felt was sensation. His hands warm and firm on her body, his unfamiliar hot, potent flavour, the sound of fabric shifting against fabric as he drew her closer.
And she was clutching his shirt without even realising she’d reached for him. Her body was burning without any recollection of who’d lit the fire.
His hands began a more intimate journey, seeking out her hardening nipples, drawing them into stiff peaks against the bodice of her dress. Rolling them between finger and thumb. She gasped as wetness accumulated between her thighs and, like a wanton, thrust her breasts forward, willing, willing him to keep doing what he was doing.
He did. Oh, yes, he did. But the ache only intensified, his clever hands sending ripples of desire straight to all her secret places. Her belly rubbed against a powerful ridge of masculinity. A moan rose up her throat at the sensation of the contrasting hardness against her softness.
A ragged answering groan seemed to come from the depths of his being. ‘How far to your place?’ he murmured thickly against her neck.
His voice and the message conveyed broke the lust trance she’d been momentarily lost in and her eyes snapped open. The harsh streetlight over the wall haloed his head, leaving his features obscured. All she was aware of was a dark silhouette looming over her and the unfamiliar scent of a man she really didn’t know at all.
Oh. My. God. Panic clawed up her throat and she pulled free. ‘I…I need to go to the ladies’.’ Clutching her jacket about her shoulders, she took a couple of steps away, and from the safety of distance she pulled her thrumming lips into some semblance of a smile and said, ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
She plunged back into the overheated room, saw Sasha amongst the dancers and caught her eye. Sasha winked over some guy’s shoulder and twirled her index finger in the air—their prearranged ‘goodnight’ signal should they decide to leave separately.
Ellie nodded, manoeuvred her way through the dancers, past security at the entrance and out onto the street, still busy with traffic despite the late hour.
A car filled with loudmouthed teenagers cruised past, their car stereo’s bass competing in an out-of-sync rhythm with the club’s. Cold air stung her face and bare arms as she clung to her jacket, desperately willing a taxi to appear.
‘Wait, Ellie.’ She jumped at the sound of his voice behind her, but she didn’t turn around.
No, no, no. If she looked, she might reconsider and she couldn’t risk that. A fleeting kiss was fine, a little flirting…probably. But a kiss like that, with a man like him…A man who could sweep away her common sense without raising a sweat…
A frantic wave brought a taxi screeching to a halt in front of her. She dived inside, slammed the door and ordered the cabbie to drive.
But before he could pull into the stream of traffic, the door swung open again. Her breath caught and her fingers tightened on top of her bag. Matt whoever-he-was filled the space with his unique brand of woodsy midnight cologne, his smile, his charisma. ‘You dropped your jacket,’ he said, and laid it on the seat beside her. He didn’t attempt to climb in.
‘Ah…Thank you.’ She hadn’t even realised it had slipped off her shoulders and felt like a fool. He hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted him to and she’d taken the coward’s way out and ditched him without one word of explanation. Worse, she could see the blonde who’d eyed him up earlier watching the proceedings from the club’s entrance.
‘You sure you don’t want to change your mind?’
No. She dragged her eyes back to his. ‘Yes.’
‘“Yes,” you’re sure, or “yes,” you want to change your mind?’
She shook her head. ‘You know what I mean.’
His smile faded. ‘Maybe, but I’m not sure you do.’ He withdrew a wallet from his hip pocket, flipped it open and pulled out a black-and-gold business card. ‘When you do…change your mind…’
When I do? That’s why she stayed away from men like him. They messed with your head; they were dangerous…and addictive. And when they were finished with you, what did you have? Emptiness, pain and regrets.
When she didn’t take the card, he reached inside and grasped her hand with his large warm fingers, turned it palm up. He pressed a kiss to the centre, then replaced his lips with the card, folded her fingers over the top. ‘Until I see you again.’ Spoken with all the arrogance and confidence in the whole damn universe.
Her palm burned and she curled her fingers into a fist. Protecting the imprint of his mouth or screwing up his card? ‘I don’t think so.’
But he just grinned, as cocky as ever. He peeled off a one-hundred-dollar note from his wad. ‘Cab fare home. Pleasant dreams, Ellie.’
Ellie unlocked the door to her one-room studio apartment, stepped into calming darkness and solitude, grateful none of the other tenants she shared the building with were around to witness her dishevelled state.
Leaning back against the door, she let out a sigh. She could hear her own breathing, still ragged, her pulse, still rapid. What had she been thinking? Letting him kiss her and then…oh…and then letting him come on to her that way? And what was she supposed to do with all that change from the cab fare?
Closing her eyes didn’t help. It didn’t block the images or shut out the memory of how she’d responded to him. ‘Idiot!’ she snarled. ‘I am an idiot.’ She recited the words slowly through clenched teeth. Her fingers closed tightly over the business card she still held. She hadn’t been able to make herself drop it in the gutter like she should have.
Crossing the room, she tossed the crumpled cardboard on her night stand without looking at it, flicked on her bedside lamp and flung herself onto her narrow bed, pulling her comforting pink rug over her body. Then, just to be sure, she sent Sasha a text telling her she’d gone home. Alone—in case Sasha got smart and sent her a fun text about ‘getting lucky’. Lucky? She stared at the ceiling as if she could read answers in the ancient water stains.
She didn’t want to get lucky. She didn’t want to get involved. With anyone. Not that Matt had come even close to suggesting any such thing. It had been obvious where his intentions had been focused. But a late supper, maybe a few dates and who knew where that would have led? On her part, at least. You know exactly where, the little voice in her head whispered.
She didn’t know how, but Matt was unlike any man she’d ever met, and that made him dangerous. Didn’t mean she didn’t know his type. He’d probably already forgotten her.
She’d always been one to get easily attached to people. And when they left, for whatever reason, they took another piece of her with them.
Like when her part-time father walked out on her and Mum for the final time. She’d been three. Then three years later there’d been the car accident which had