Red-Hot Affairs. Lucy King
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And came face to face with Signore Capelli, who was standing there, his hand raised as if about to knock.
Laura’s heart banged in shock. And then lurched with something else when Matt dropped her hand as if it were a hot coal and sprang away from her. She glanced at him. Saw his face had turned to stone. Then she glanced at Signore Capelli who was decidedly not looking at her, and she felt herself grow beetroot at the thought of the damage Matt’s hands must have done to her hair. What must he be thinking?
‘Yes?’ Matt growled.
‘I apologise for disturbing you, sir,’ said Signore Capelli, looking cool and unperturbed, as if he encountered this sort of situation all the time, ‘but you’re needed in the ballroom.’
Matt shoved his hands through his hair and bit out a sigh. Then he turned to Laura, his eyes blazing. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’
But by the time Matt got back, Laura had gone.
LAURA was cursing Matt beneath her breath and punching the pillows on her bed when the hairs on the back of her neck sprang to attention and alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone. Her heart suddenly thundering, she whirled around and nearly swooned.
Matt stood in the doorway, his big body tight with tension and his eyes glittering. His bow tie hung loose around his neck and a couple of his shirt buttons were undone. He looked dishevelled, exhausted and utterly gorgeous.
‘I asked you to wait,’ he said roughly.
What did he have to sound annoyed about? Laura thought, her stomach churning with pique, frustration and disappointment. She was the one who’d been left hanging there. Waiting. Listening to the heavy tick-tock of the grandfather clock and going slowly insane. ‘Don’t you ever knock?’
‘No.’
‘You should. It’s rude.’
‘I asked you to wait. You left. I don’t think you should be lecturing me on rudeness.’ His eyes glittered. ‘What happened? Changed your mind?’
As if. She clutched a pillow to her stomach as if it might somehow provide some kind of defence against his potent magnetism. ‘I did wait,’ said Laura witheringly. ‘For over an hour.’
There was a brief silence. Then Matt frowned. ‘It wasn’t as long as that.’
‘Yes, it was.’ Obviously he’d been so caught up in whatever it was he’d been doing that he’d completely forgotten about her. Exactly as she’d suspected.
‘Oh,’ he muttered, rubbing his face. ‘I’m sorry, I got tied up.’
‘Evidently,’ she said waspishly, the hurt still stinging. ‘So what do you want?’
His gaze dropped to her chest, where she was pretty sure he’d be able to see the curve of her breasts beneath the fine silk of her negligee and she tossed the pillow onto the bed to cross her arms over her chest.
‘What do you think?’ he said, stepping into the room, his eyes darkening. ‘We have unfinished business.’
Her gaze dropped to below his belt and her mouth went dry at the impressive bulge behind the zip. Laura gave herself a quick shake, swallowed hard and lifted her chin. ‘No, we don’t.’ She arched an eyebrow. Gave him a smile. ‘At least I don’t.’ The minute she’d got to her suite, she’d stripped, marched into the bathroom and had had a hot, steamy, extremely satisfying shower. Steam and the scent of roses still billowed from room. Her cheeks were still pink. Her body still hummed.
For a second Matt just stared at her as the implication of her words sank in and his eyebrows crept up. ‘Oh,’ he said softly, giving her a slow smile that made her tingle all over again. ‘I’m sorry I missed that.’
‘So am I.’
‘We’ll just have to start again. Because look what I found.’
He strode across the marble floor, stopped a foot from her and tossed a box onto the bed. Out spilled condoms. Lots of them. Laura stared down at them, back up at him and her pulse began to race.
‘Oh.’
‘Quite.’ And then he frowned. ‘Did you change your mind?’
He sounded uncertain all of a sudden and pique evaporated. ‘Of course not,’ she said, giving him a smile that she hoped didn’t reveal her relief too much. ‘I just got bored of waiting.’
‘Good.’ Matt pulled her into his arms. ‘Now where were we?’ he said, staring down at her and a wicked smile curving his mouth. ‘Oh, yes, I remember.’
He slid his hands down her body, bunched the silk in his fingers and lifted it. Laura raised her arms and let her bare breasts brush against his chest as he drew it up and over her head. She heard him take a sharp breath, then felt him give her shoulders a little push and she fell back on the bed.
Her breath shot from her lungs as she landed and then vanished all over again as Matt began to whip his clothes off. He pulled off his bow tie and tossed it on the floor. Seconds later his jacket and shirt joined it, followed by his trousers and shorts, and desire began to hammer through her.
Oh, God. His body was truly magnificent. The first time they’d had sex she’d been so desperate that there hadn’t been time to savour and learn. And then up against the wall earlier this evening she’d barely had time to reacquaint herself with it.
But that was going to change, she vowed, her head swimming as she ran her gaze down him, over the broad chest, the flat stomach, lean hips, powerful thighs and finally lingering on the gloriously thick hard length of his erection.
Laura swallowed and shuddered as a bolt of longing gripped her. This time they’d take it slowly. Touch and taste and linger and eke out every drop of pleasure.
‘Are you ogling me?’ Matt murmured and Laura realised he’d been standing there watching her watching him for goodness knew how long.
‘Certainly am,’ she replied, biting on her lip to stop herself from whimpering.
He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming as they roamed over her.
‘What are you doing?’ she breathed, half wondering why he wasn’t launching himself at her.
‘Returning the compliment.’
Her body burned and she dragged in a shaky breath. ‘Oh, OK.’
‘Of course,’ he mused, sinking onto the bed beside her and trailing his fingers over her cheek, down her neck, over her upper chest and then cupping her breast. ‘It would be better if I had a pair of binoculars.’
Laura shivered and felt the muscles of her abdomen contract. ‘Would it? Why?’
‘Then