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He allowed the unspoken to smoulder a moment. ‘Forget the dressing gown and tell me the rest.’
Her cheeks turned pink. ‘You’ve got other things on your mind. I—’
‘Damn right, I’ve got things on my mind. Starting with you, Didi…’
Their order arrived and the words hung between them with all their erotic possibilities. Ice clinked, china rattled as the waiter set the tea and a tumbler of whisky over ice on the table. Cam paid the waiter, then sat back and watched Didi’s colour heighten further.
‘Shall I tell you what I’m thinking about?’ he went on when the waiter had moved away. He leaned closer so he could see flecks of gold amongst the silver in her eyes. ‘I’m thinking about peeling those clothes off you. Slowly. Then sampling every inch of your skin. With my hands. With my tongue. Every inch.’ He let his gaze travel over the swell of her breasts. ‘Or maybe I’ll savour the anticipation and let you strip while I watch before I—’
‘I’m thinking you should get naked first.’ The colour had bled into her neck. Her eyes flicked to his lap. ‘I want to watch you get turned on.’
Just the thought of those eyes stroking him with liquid heat shot bullets of fire to his groin. ‘Too late,’ he murmured, watching her eyes widen, her pupils dilate. ‘I already am.’
‘Well, then.’ She picked up her cup, sipped, her expression touched by the humour of it. ‘It’s too bad we have a twenty-five-minute walk ahead of us. In the cold.’
Suddenly he didn’t want to make that long chilly walk. A stroll, for Pete’s sake, what had he been thinking? He took a long gulp of whisky to wet his lust-dry throat. ‘We can be in a warm room in ten minutes.’
She laughed, a tinkling erotic sound. ‘You think so?’
He grinned back. ‘I know so.’ In ten minutes they could both be naked and warm and feeling really really good. Why waste another moment? He felt the grin drop away from his lips. Didi could make him feel good, and a lot more—she could help him forget. ‘What do you say? Are you game?’
She blinked. ‘You’re serious. Here?’
‘You better believe it.’ He lifted his glass to his lips to savour the whisky’s aroma.
‘You mean we’re going to rock up at check-in with no luggage and ask for a room and a “by the way, do you charge by the hour?”’ She set her cup on its saucer with a clink. ‘How many couples check in to five-star luxury for a quick roll over the sheets?’
‘Who says it’s going to be quick?’
Her eyes turned a smoky grey, an early morning heatwave haze with a voice to match. ‘How many hours do you think we might need, Cameron?’ It continually fascinated him; her innocence-in-black-lace routine.
‘Whatever it takes.’ He polished off his whisky in one long draught. ‘As long as we’re home before six-thirty.’
She checked her watch, slurped a few mouthfuls of tea, picked up her coat and rose. ‘Better get started, then.’
‘Ah, a small problem.’ He glanced down at himself. Maybe not so small…
She leaned in, her small breasts brushing against his forearm as she whispered in his ear. ‘Stay close behind and come with me.’
He reached for her cool slim fingers, entwined them with his. ‘I intend to do just that, sweetheart.’
‘Hurry.’ The urgency in Didi’s voice sharpened his anticipation to a razor’s edge.
‘Going as fast as I can,’ Cameron muttered, swiping the keycard for the second time, his free hand still locked with hers.
Finally. He tugged her hand and they spilled into the room like a couple of horny teenagers, tossing handbag and jackets on the floor and not bothering with lights. Only the master lamp cast a muted yellow pool in the room’s foyer.
‘Didi…’ He whirled, pressing her against the door so he could ravish her mouth the way he’d been wanting to since early this morning. His blood pounded into life, roaring through his veins. Already he’d committed her taste to memory, the scent of her skin, the sound of her moan as her mouth opened beneath his.
Their joined hands brushed the front of his jeans; he wasn’t sure who’d made the move, didn’t care. He took advantage, rubbing her knuckles over his throbbing erection while his tongue dived over hers. This fever of need wasn’t anything he’d not experienced before but this strange vicelike grip in the region of his heart was new.
So he’d die of a heart attack in the throes of passion. He’d die a happy man. But he lifted his head, let them both catch their breath. Her breasts rose and fell in rapid succession, hard nipples abrading his chest through their combined layers of worn jersey.
