for an uncomfortable trip, I imagine. You haven’t inherited that fear?’
Her head moved slowly from side to side. ‘Not at all. In fact, I’d like to learn to fly one day.’
‘What’s holding you back?’ It wouldn’t be lack of brains or money.
‘I have a feeling it would become a passion and what with work and doing up my house there isn’t enough spare time to spend hours in the air.’ Her reflection in the window showed she was nibbling her lip again.
He didn’t like it when she did that. It indicated distress, and he didn’t want her to feel distressed. ‘Ever thought of cutting back a few hours so you can do some of the things you like?’
Olivia finally looked at him. ‘I spent so much time training and working my way to the top that I think I’ve forgotten there’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored, whether through travel or doing things like learning to fly.’
‘You’re right.’ Apart from going sailing whenever he could get a weekend away, he spent most of his time working. ‘You said you’re enjoying doing up your house. I bought this apartment because the idea of renovations and painting and all the things required to turn a house into a home seemed too huge. It’s not a job for one weekend, is it?’
‘No, it’s a project. But, then, most things I’ve ever done have been projects.’ She frowned. ‘That’s how I stay in control. Take the house. Next month is bathroom month. The builder’s going to gut it and then everything I’ve chosen goes in and I get to go shopping for all the little bits and pieces, matching the towels with the tile colour, the fittings with the rest of the house.’
Sounded too organised for him. He liked a little disorder, certainly didn’t have perfectly matched towels or even dinner sets. Not that he’d gone to the second-hand shop for anything, but he hadn’t been hell-bent on getting everything looking like a show home. ‘What was last month?’
‘My bedroom.’ She turned away, and her voice was low as she told him, ‘It’s cream and rose pink. Very girlie, but I wasn’t allowed that when I was growing up so I’m having it now.’
Wow, she’d just mentioned her childhood twice in a short amount of time. Very briefly, sure, but there it was. She hadn’t been allowed to pick the colours for her room. Not a big deal maybe, but it could mean there was nothing she’d been allowed to choose. ‘I’ve never seen you wear pink.’
‘Rose pink.’ Her smile was unexpectedly shy. ‘There’s a difference. And, no, I can’t imagine what patients would think if their surgeon turned up dressed in pink.’
‘They’d probably love it.’ Taking a step back before he walked into that smile filling him with a longing for something special, he brought everything back to reality. ‘Tea or champagne?’
‘Have you got camomile?’ Her smile had widened into that of a cheeky girl.
He told her, ‘Yes, I have,’ and laughed at her surprise. ‘My mother drinks it.’ On the rare times she’s visited.
‘For some reason I didn’t think you were close.’ She followed him to the kitchen, where she perched on a bar stool at the counter. Crossing her legs showed off a length of thigh where that golden creation that was supposedly a dress rode high.
‘We’re not.’ Mum at least tried to accept he was still her son, while Dad … Forget it.
‘You mentioned one brother.’ Was that longing in her voice? Hard to tell from her face.
‘Mark. He’s married with two kids. I only get to see them at Christmas and birthdays.’
Olivia picked at an invisible spot on the counter. ‘That’s incredibly sad.’
‘Yep.’ He made himself busy getting mugs from the cupboard and teabags from the pantry.
She lifted her head and locked her blue eyes on him, suddenly back to being in control. ‘Think I’ll head back to the hotel. I don’t really want tea. Or anything.’ She slipped off the stool and turned towards the doorway. ‘Good night, Zac.’
With little thought he reached for her, caught her wrist and gently tugged her close. With a finger under her chin he tilted her head back so he could gaze down into her eyes. And felt his head spinning with wanting her.
Olivia’s eyes widened and her chin rose further as her mouth opened slightly.
Zac was lost. Any resistance or logical thinking disappeared as he leaned closer to place his mouth over hers. As he tasted her, the heat and need he’d kept tamped down most of the night exploded into a rainbow of hot colours. Olivia. She was in his arms, her mouth on his, her tongue dancing with his. Olivia.
Slim arms wound around his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He felt her rise onto tiptoe, knew the moment when her hips pressed against his obvious desire. Those breasts he’d been fantasising about all night flattened against his chest, turning him into a molten pool of need. His hands spread around her waist to lift her onto the stool, where she immediately wrapped her legs around his thighs.
This is what I’ve missed so damned much. We are fire on fire. Feeding each other. Consuming the oxygen.
She tasted wonderful, bringing more erotic memories back to him. Making new ones.
Lifting his mouth, he began trailing kisses over her jaw, down her neckline, on towards her deep cleavage. When she whimpered he continued while lifting his gaze to her face, where he recognised the same fiery awakening racing along his veins.
Her fingers kneaded his scalp as she pushed her breasts higher to give him more access with his tongue. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. That dress had clung to every curve and outlined her shape perfectly; including her breasts, those peaks now hard against his mouth and hand.
Zac growled as he licked her, tasted her skin, her nipple. A gentle bite had her arching her back and tipping her head so that her hair fell like a waterfall behind her. And he lost himself, tasting, touching, rubbing.
‘It’s been so long,’ she murmured in a low voice that spelt sex. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally pushed it open, and then her palms were on his skin, smoothing and teasing as only Olivia could do.
The memories that he’d lived on for all those long months apart rapidly became reality. He hadn’t enhanced any of them. This was how it had been between them. Then his belt was loose, the zip being tugged downward, and … Oh, hell. Her soft hand was wrapped around him, sliding down, up, and down again. Oh, hell. There was nothing quite like making out with this woman. She knew the buttons to push, remembered what he most enjoyed, and if she wasn’t careful would have him coming long before he’d pleasured her.
That wasn’t happening. Zac wrapped his arms around her and carried her quickly down the hall to his bedroom and the super-king-sized bed she had yet to try out. Toeing his shoes off, he knelt on the bed and leaned forward with Olivia still in his arms so that he was covering her before she could move. ‘Your turn.’
‘I’m ready,’ she croaked.
‘I haven’t touched you yet.’ But, then, often he hadn’t had to. All part of that explosiveness
