Her Enemy With Benefits. Nicola Marsh
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small, firm breasts before eventually meeting her eyes.
He’d expected censure and condemnation for his blatant perving. He hadn’t expected an answering heat that had him hard in a second.
If she gave him a sign—any sign—that she wanted this as much as he did he’d vault the sofa and take her up against the wall.
He willed her to say something, to be brave enough to articulate what was zapping between them.
For the decision had to come from her. He knew what he wanted—hot, wild sex—but would she view it the same way?
Sapphire was so intense, so focussed, would she read too much into a quickie to take the edge off?
He’d never mixed business with pleasure before, had turned down numerous models, campaign managers and even rival CEOs. It never did to complicate matters. But this time with Sapphire he’d compartmentalise.
But would she be able to do the same?
His fingers curled into his palms and he clenched his hands into fists, holding himself perfectly still. He couldn’t afford movement, for when he did move it would be in a beeline straight for her.
Their gazes locked for an eternity—his taunting her to accept his unspoken dare, hers surprisingly bold.
He waited, unaware he’d been holding his breath until she broke the deadlock and his lungs emptied in a rush.
‘I fancy Thai.’
Not quite the I fancy you he’d been hoping to hear and not half as satisfying he’d hazard a guess.
As she studied the menu with intense fascination he came to a lightning quick decision—the kind of impulse he’d been famous for in his wilder partying years, the kind of decision that had made Paris sit up and take notice of his first dramatic show. Not in a good way.
But this was different. He was a decade older, a decade wiser. And going after Sapphire because he wanted her was a purely primal drive he needed to slake before it became an obsession and screwed with his concentration completely.
Ignoring this attraction was growing old fast. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t spend the next thirty days working alongside her without going insane and taking enough cold showers to contribute to Melbourne’s water shortage.
There was only so much curtailing a guy could take.
‘Sapphire?’
She took an eternity to glance up, and when she did she was worrying her bottom lip with her top teeth. ‘Yeah?’
‘I think I should go.’
Schmuck that he was, he gave her one last out. If she agreed, he’d bolt—make that hobble—out of here. It was his final concession to the reformed him. One last attempt to do the right thing before he went frigging insane with wanting her and took whatever he could get.
He’d leave if she asked and make sure all their future meetings took place within office hours in an office environment. There was only so much temptation a guy could take.
He had no idea how long they stood there, the silence taut and expectant.
He could hear a clock ticking somewhere behind him, the dripping of a faulty tap, and eventually the soft, wistful sigh of a woman as confused as him.
‘Why?’
One word. That was all she uttered. It was enough.
He stalked towards her, even now expecting her to backtrack, to make some flimsy excuse and turf him out on his ass.
Instead she stood ramrod straight, head tilted, unwavering stare defiant.
Lord, he wanted her. Wanted her with the kind of consuming lust that could make a man forget his name.
This thing between them went beyond a teenage fantasy, went beyond the basic craving for sensational sex. He saw something in her that called to him on some base level that defied logic. He couldn’t label it—didn’t want to. What he did want was her. Naked. Hot. Wet.
He stopped a foot in front of her, close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath, too damn far away when he wanted her body plastered against his.
‘If I stay, it won’t be for food.’
‘Food can be overrated.’ Her lips curved into a smug smile, sexy as hell. The kind of smile to give a guy depraved thoughts. ‘So why are you staying?’
‘You need me to spell it out?’
‘I’d rather you show me—’
He claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss. No thought for sweet seduction or taking it slow. No thought beyond the incessant pounding in his head urging him to be inside her now.
She matched him, grabbing his shirt lapels, yanking him closer so that their bodies melded in a fusion of heat.
And it still wasn’t enough.
He changed the pressure, his mouth sliding over hers in slow, tantalising sweeps, and she moaned, straining towards him.
With a tenuous hold on his self-control he grabbed her butt and hoisted her onto the breakfast bar—his turn to groan when his hard-on settled between her open legs. Her heat penetrated the clothing barriers between them and he wanted in.
She closed her eyes and arched into him, her abandonment so at odds with her usual reserve. He would come way too soon.
When her hips involuntarily moved, rubbing against him, he bit back an expletive. One that described what they were about to do.
If they had protection.
‘Do you have condoms?’
Her eyes snapped open, incredibly blue amid the pink blush stealing into her cheeks. ‘No. Don’t you?’
He shook his head and cursed again. Cursed his stupidity in starting something he couldn’t finish. Cursed his new lifestyle choices. Cursed the same impulses of the past that had got him here—frustrated as hell.
‘You think Ruby would have any stocked in the bathroom?’
Sapphire frowned. ‘Nope. She cleaned all her stuff out.’
For the first time in a long time he was at a loss for words. This was awkward. Rampaging lust was fine in the heat of the moment, but now…
‘Though I guess we could double check?’
Her tone held a hint of devilry. He liked it. It meant she hadn’t retreated or gone brusque on him. It also meant she might be up for other stuff if latex couldn’t be found.
She snagged his hand and tugged him into the bathroom—surprisingly large compared with the rest of the apartment.
It had a glass-enclosed shower, a marble tub big enough for two and a floor-to-ceiling mirror with distinct possibilities.
She released his hand long enough to rummage through three drawers and a cabinet under the sink. He would have laughed at her frantic search if he weren’t practically crippled from wanting her so badly.
When she straightened the disappointment in her eyes vindicated what he was about to do.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
Her mouth down-turned. ‘Yeah, it does. I don’t do unprotected sex.’
‘Neither do I.’ He reached out and touched her collarbone, then let his fingertip trail downward, around one breast, then the other, in slow concentric circles, until she sagged against the vanity. ‘But there’s loads we can do without the grand finale.’
Her eyes lit up as she registered the meaning behind his words and before he could say anything she’d whipped off her tee-shirt, giving him an eyeful of demi-cup black satin and pushed-up cleavage.
‘Well, I guess that answers my next question—whether you’d