Dear God, what did this woman do to him that when he was with her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her?
Abby uttered a small protest, but then she arched against him. Luke was half afraid he was going to climax there and then. Steeling himself against the emotions roiling through his system, he tried to think coherently. He was here to talk about the petition Greg Hughes had no doubt set in motion. Not to make a fool of himself all over again.
But she was so warm, so desirable. Unable to prevent himself, he slid his hands up from her hips to her breasts. With his mouth still devouring hers, he peeled the towelling robe aside.
The belt, already loosely tied, gave way, exposing her naked body to his hungry gaze. Dragging his mouth from hers, he gazed down at her with hungry eyes. ‘Oh, yes,’ he muttered thickly. ‘You’re every bit as beautiful as I imagined.’
ABBY KNEW SHE should pull back. Yet the minute his mouth had captured hers, she’d given in.
She’d known how dangerously attracted to him she was five years ago, and she should have known better. He wasn’t even the same man she’d known then. He had become hard and bitter, and he probably despised himself for being here.
He was also immensely successful. And if she wasn’t careful, he’d assume that was why she hadn’t sent him away.
She looked up into eyes that were dark with desire and something else. Was it resentment? A reluctance to admit what was going on?
She swallowed convulsively. Did she want him to think she was willing to forget the past? Perhaps he imagined she might give herself to him to save the café? Dear God, what was she thinking? This man was her enemy, not her friend.
Yet when his hands caressed her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples, making them peak so sharply it was almost painful, her breath quickened wildly.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said hoarsely, as if the words were torn from him. ‘God help me, I couldn’t stay away.’
‘Luke—’
‘Yes, say my name,’ he muttered huskily, lifting the folds of the robe from her shoulders. ‘You know I want you, don’t you? You’ve known that right from the start.’
‘Well, I don’t want you,’ she averred unconvincingly, even as her robe fell to the floor.
‘I don’t believe that,’ he responded, sweeping her up into his arms, the yielding flesh beneath his hands belying her protests.
He heard Harley complain as the folds of the robe enveloped him, but by the time the retriever had released himself Luke had crossed the floor to Abby’s bedroom.
The lamps were lit, the bed was turned down, and there was a delicious and faintly exotic smell from the adjoining bathroom. Shutting the door with his heel, just in case Harley tried to join them, Luke crossed to the bed and lowered her onto it.
Kicking off his boots, he flung himself beside her. Covering her mouth with his, he thought he would stifle any further protest she might make. But all Abby did was wind her arms about his neck, pulling him even closer, moaning very softly when his tongue invaded her mouth.
Her mouth was just as lush as he remembered. Minutes passed as he continued to kiss her, long, drugging kisses that stirred his body and burned like a fire in his blood.
His fingers sought the hollow behind her ear where her pulse was palpitating wildly; he licked the damp cleavage between her breasts, felt his control slipping as she trembled beneath his hands.
Then she was tearing his shirt free of his trousers, soft fingers probing his waistband, opening his zip. It was a second’s job for him to shed his trousers, his breath catching painfully as she caressed the moist tip of his sex.
The realisation that he hadn’t brought a condom registered only fleetingly. There was no way he could draw back and go rummaging through his wallet now. As he lay between Abby’s parted legs, with Abby urging him to bury himself inside her, sanity finally deserted him. For the first time in his life, he was at the mercy of his desire.
His fingers found her wet core and slipped inside, his thumb massaging the taut nub of her womanhood. She jerked against his hand, moaning uncontrollably, and he could wait no longer.
Without further hesitation, he thrust into her, her muscles expanding and then tightening around him. She arched against him, climaxing almost immediately, and he groaned in protest, the sound vibrating all throughout his chest.
He’d wanted to prolong it, just a few moments longer, to enjoy the sensation of being buried deep inside her. She was so hot, so tight, and his head swam with the intimacy of what was happening.
But the rippling power of her orgasm was too much for him. That, and the sensuous brush of her breasts against his chest, sent him shuddering—helplessly—over the brink.
* * *
Someone was licking her face.
Without opening her eyes, Abby put out a protesting hand and touched—hair.
Abby recoiled in surprise, her eyes flying open. Harley was on the bed beside her. It was Harley who had been licking her face, trying to wake her up no doubt. Judging by the urgency with which he jumped off the bed and headed for the open door, he wanted to be let out.
But where was Luke?
Sitting up, she glanced towards the windows. It wasn’t quite daylight, but a sliver of silver showed through a crack in the curtains, proving that a grey dawn wasn’t far off.
Leaning over, Abby switched on the lamp beside the bed.
She saw by the clock sitting on the bedside cabinet that it wasn’t yet five o’clock. Too early to get up in the normal way, but evidently Harley had been disturbed and his needs had to be met.
Sliding her legs out of bed, she shivered as the cool morning air hit her naked body. She guessed her bathrobe was still in the other room; and snatching up a pair of old sweats and a tee shirt, she didn’t bother with any underwear before pulling them on.
Where was Luke? she pondered uneasily. The dent in the pillow beside her own surely proved he had slept there. She hadn’t been dreaming. Yet Harley had been on the bed when she awoke. He could have trampled the pillow.
But someone had to have opened the bedroom door to let the retriever into the room.
Luke!
The apartment was empty. After slipping on a pair of canvas shoes, Abby followed Harley into the living room. There were no lights burning and there had been when she went to bed—when they went to bed, she amended crossly—so Luke had evidently switched them off.
But where was he now?
Harley was still fussing, so, after checking that the rain had stopped, Abby went down a second set of stairs that led into the café. There was a door that gave access to a small garden at the back, and, after letting the retriever out, she stood shivering in the draught.
It
