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‘I think you engineer it so that happens.’
He’d accomplish it so easily. He didn’t need to utter cruel words or behave badly. He’d go into dry wasteland mode and any woman would get frustrated with getting nowhere near the heart of him.
Jared rolled and stretched out in his big empty bed, watched the sky lighten, and felt a kind of relief that she hadn’t stayed. It had been a weak moment when he’d asked—since when did he crave a cuddle? He hadn’t had an affair for a while, that was all. More often than not he was left unsatisfied—despite the physical release. Sometimes the resulting dissatisfaction outweighed that physical release and he found it wasn’t worth it. These days he put his energy into his work, into his sport—with only the occasional spill into sexual conquest.
Amanda might not be experienced but she sure had enthusiasm and a kind of fearlessness that both turned him on and tormented him. She wasn’t afraid of her sensuality, wasn’t afraid to let go—it was as if she wanted everything he had in that moment. She understood this was only momentary too; he guessed that was why she’d chosen not to stay—because she knew. But right now she was also damn near insatiable. Good thing, because right now so was he.
She was there when he got home that night; pages of mock-ups littered the large rug on the floor of the lounge. She had a glass of wine on the coffee table. She was kneeling over the pages, studying them, barefoot and her hair hung loose.
She turned her head as he opened the door.
‘Don’t get up,’ he said. ‘Stay there.’
She looked back at the mock-ups, head angled, hair gleaming in the light as she studied the tiny variants on each. ‘What do you think?’
‘Incredible.’ She had no idea, did she?
Maybe she did because she twisted again and gave him a keen look. He’d already stripped off his shirt and his fingers were hovering above his belt.
A pixie smile appeared and she gave her hips a little wiggle. ‘You think?’
His eyes closed for a second at her sweet playfulness. When he opened them again she was crawling a little towards him.
‘Come closer and take a good look,’ she cooed.
There was a rushing feeling in his chest. ‘Amanda—’
‘They look really good from down here.’ She swivelled and crawled back to the big sheets of paper. Peeked over her shoulder and gave her hips another wriggle at the same time.
She giggled then, a light bubble that contrasted with his low laughter as he sank to the rug, utterly at her mercy.
‘Do you know what you’re doing, Amanda?’
‘Figuring it out as I go.’
‘I knew your creative talent was impressive.’
Amanda beat him back to his house again. Cold, she lit the gas fire and flopped into the armchair beside it. Put her feet up on the tile hearth surrounding it to let the flames warm her legs.
The key sounded and she looked up, trying to control the leap in her heart and the fire in her belly. He said nothing, but there was that smile as he walked over and sat on the hearth in front of her. She was falling for that smile—it didn’t seem quite so dangerous, more like thrilling. He looked at her bare legs and his brows lifted.
He bent, kissed one knee, then the other, soothing the twin grazes she’d got from the carpet during their wickedly erotic coupling the night before. Watching him tend to each with lips and tongue, she let her legs fall apart, so her inner thighs were open and inviting him in. He took immediate advantage, kissing his way up her smooth, sensitive skin. She groaned, her head falling back on the chair.
‘How the hell did you stay a virgin so long?’ His words were slurred and she knew he’d discovered the fact she was wearing no panties and that she was already glistening wet for him.
‘No one…’ She could hardly speak.
‘No one what?’
‘No one kisses…like you do.’
‘You like it when I kiss you?’ he muttered, breath hot on her thigh as he hooked her leg over his shoulder. ‘Like when I kiss you here?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’
Amanda stood under the shower for far too long—her body warm and eager and unfulfilled. How could that be? For the first time in her life she could understand addiction. It hadn’t even been a week and yet she wanted more, more, more. It was a horrible, desperate hunger. A sanity—and pride-destroying need that would have her accepting anything so long as he’d keep sleeping with her.
Not good. This was why she dragged herself from his warm bed every night, returning home to slide alone between her own freezing sheets. Because he wanted a quick fling and she was falling in love.
