‘Sure.’ He shifted his gaze—not skyward but to the tempting column of her throat. ‘For now, though, I’m perfectly satisfied with what’s right here in front of me.’
‘Oh…’
He blinked. Oh? That was it? Most women would respond with a smile or a giggle or a flutter of lashes—some hint that this game was definitely going somewhere.
Not Ellie. And yet there was no mistaking the latent heat behind her gaze. She tugged the edges of her jacket together with tightly curled fingers and switched topics. ‘What’s been happening in Sydney?’
He rocked back on his heels. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been too busy to notice.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I’m working on a harbour-side housing project at the moment. How about you? What line of work are you in?’
She moved her shoulders. ‘A bit of this, a bit of that. I like to move around, so I pick up work wherever.’
‘Travel. So I’m guessing you’ve been overseas?’
She coughed out a laugh. ‘I’m afraid nothing near as exciting as that. Name a town between Sydney and Adelaide and I’ve probably been there at some stage in the past few years. I don’t like to be tied down.’ She laughed again but the humour didn’t seem to reach her eyes. ‘Call me irresponsible.’
‘Okay, but at some point, you’d probably like to settle in one place, build a career and take on the responsibility of raising a family?’
She shook her head once. ‘Not me. I’m a free spirit. I go where I please, when I please. And I like it that way.’
Do you? he wondered, watching the play of mixed emotions flicker across her gaze.
‘And I can eat the whole darn cheesecake in one sitting if I want. Now that’s what I call freedom.’ Her smile broadened. This time her eyes danced with devilment and he found himself totally entranced by the way her lips curved, making apples of her cheeks.
‘I guess it is,’ he agreed, smiling back. ‘Free spirit, huh.’ His lips tingled in anticipation of his first taste of her luscious-looking lips. He could almost feel their sweet heat, the warmth of her breath against his cheek…‘Ellie, I want to kiss you,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you.’ And a lot more besides, but he didn’t voice that yet.
Her head snapped back, her eyes locked on his and the slow-burning sexual tension which had been simmering along nicely evaporated in a puff of frosty air. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, then they disappeared altogether as she pressed them into a tight flat line.
His body howled a protest. That’s what you get for being a gentleman, McGregor. He’d not had much experience with women knocking him back. Or he was right and she wasn’t as free spirited as she was making out. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘No.’ Her face reflected the light from the pink lantern hanging nearby as she shook her head.
‘So…?’
Nearby, someone’s glass shattered on the concrete but her eyes remained locked with his. They seemed to say yes, but her behaviour indicated otherwise. The wind scuttled along the high brick fence, scattering dried leaves at their feet and riffling through her bright hair, gleaming like moonlight.
Then her shoulders tightened as she drew in air. ‘So…do it, then.’
Her surprisingly breathy demand had his libido leaping to attention. He leaned closer, watching her chest rise sharply as she drew another swift breath, watching her eyes flare with a mix of vulnerability, hesitance and anticipation.
He barely laid his lips on hers, just enough to feel the warmth there, the texture. It was like tasting summer’s first ripe peach. Sweet, soft. Sensuous. Eliciting a low throaty murmur from her that sang like honey through his bloodstream.
More. It was more than he’d anticipated and it threw him for a loop. He lifted his head to gaze down at her, saw that she was as surprised as he. He hadn’t expected to feel his heart beating oddly out of time, as if he stood on the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the middle of a storm without a safety harness.
Willing to believe it had been a fluke, again he lowered his lips, felt her hesitance dissipate like autumn mist in sunshine as she shifted nearer. Her mouth, tentative and unsure, softened and opened beneath his. He took swift advantage, lifting his hands to cradle her jaw for more intimate access and angling his body so that they aligned in the all right places.
He felt her tiny frame quiver against him as he swept his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers where the flavours were richer, darker, hotter.
Ah, now she didn’t resist. In any way. She was right there with him—he knew by the way her tongue curled with his, the way her body turned fluid and malleable against him. He stepped closer, her legs tangling against his.
Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care. Her hands slid up the front of his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding into her flattened palms. Then she slid them down again and wrapped them around his waist, and leaned in so her breasts pushed against his chest.
He let his hands wander too, over the smooth creamy column of her neck, the delicate heart pendant she wore, inside her jacket until they found the neckline of her dress. Down, palms skimming the outside of her breasts, the womanly shape where her waistline dipped, then flared again as he traced her hips. She was perfection. He wanted more. And with the way she was melting against him, it would appear he was in luck.
Ellie’s knees were so loose it was a minor miracle she didn’t collapse right there on the pavers. Her pulse thundered, her blood sizzled. Her only thought was she couldn’t believe that she was letting this man—this godlike man who smelled sinfully good and probably did this every night of the week with a different woman—kiss her to kingdom come.
Then her eyes closed, her mind shut down and all she felt was sensation. His hands warm and firm on her body, his unfamiliar hot, potent flavour, the sound of fabric shifting against fabric as he drew her closer.
And she was clutching his shirt without even realising she’d reached for him. Her body was burning without any recollection of who’d lit the fire.
His hands began a more intimate journey, seeking out her hardening nipples, drawing them into stiff peaks against the bodice of her dress. Rolling them between finger and thumb. She gasped as wetness accumulated between her thighs and, like a wanton, thrust her breasts forward, willing, willing him to keep doing what he was doing.
He did. Oh, yes, he did. But the ache only intensified, his clever hands sending ripples of desire straight to all her secret places. Her belly rubbed against a powerful ridge of masculinity. A moan rose up her throat at the sensation of the contrasting hardness against her softness.
A ragged answering groan seemed to come from the depths of his being. ‘How far to your place?’ he murmured thickly against her neck.
His voice and the message conveyed broke the lust trance she’d been momentarily lost in and her eyes snapped open. The harsh streetlight over the wall haloed his head, leaving his features obscured. All
