of her own making.
She’d found the house but wasn’t having much luck with the guy.
Before she could second-guess her crazy decision she pulled the elastic off her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair. She took off her glasses, toed off her flat pumps, unbuttoned her white shirt and unzipped her grey pencil skirt. The warehouse air had a chill, making her skin pebble as she stripped off her sensible cotton underwear. Or maybe her goosebumps had more to do with the naughty thrill of slipping on the thong and bungling her way into the bustier with detachable lace collar.
When she’d done up the last hook, she took a deep breath and padded over to the wardrobe. Opened the door wider. Took a peek in the mirror. And gasped.
Her reflection didn’t shock her as much as the sight of a tall gorgeous guy in a suit staring at her with obvious appreciation.
‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?’ She spun around, covering her bits even though they weren’t really exposed.
Her handbag and cell were on the table laden with boxes, too far away to make an emergency call if she had to.
Damn, why had she been so stupid? She could’ve dressed up—or undressed in this case—in her flat where she’d be storing the boxes, not here where any pervert could wander in.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ the handsome stranger said, stepping inside the room and closing the door.
Uh-oh.
Being alone in an empty warehouse in raunchy underwear with a man, no matter how attractive, wasn’t good. She had more sense than this. She blamed her stupid impulsiveness on the realisation that her life was so empty she actually looked forward to verbally sparring with her irritating boss daily.
She’d wanted to cut loose for just one moment. To feel what other women felt wearing underwear like this. She hadn’t banked on having an audience for a foolish moment of bravado.
‘Get out,’ she yelled, sidling towards her clothes, fear making her heart pound in her ears.
‘I own this place so that’s not going to happen.’ His curious gaze fell on the table, where the vibrators and lingerie lay scattered. ‘You, on the other hand, need to tell me what you’re doing here and why my warehouse has turned into a sex shop.’
There was something vaguely familiar about his condescending tone and she hoped to God he wasn’t a client whose taxes she’d done.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, this isn’t a sex shop. My aunt rents this space, from you apparently, for her online business and she asked me to pack everything up so the new tenant can move in tomorrow.’ She gestured at the merchandise, belatedly realising she’d left herself exposed when a glimmer of interest lit his gaze. ‘So if you leave me to it, I’ll be out of here in a few hours.’
‘Well, aren’t you the little helper,’ he drawled, his gaze starting at her toes and working its way upward, a slow, leisurely perusal that made her nipples harden.
Her body’s reaction startled her. She’d never reacted to any man like this before, let alone a stranger. She read about this kind of thing in the romance novels she devoured by the boxful: the shy woman instantly attracted to the commanding man. It was a seduction game she fantasised about but knew could never happen to her. They called those novels fiction for a reason.
Yet here she was, standing in front of a guy she didn’t know, letting him look his fill. And enjoying it.
When he reached her eyes, what she saw made her knees wobble a tad. Desire. Passion. Lust. The kind of lust she’d never, ever seen in a man’s eyes when they looked at her.
‘Is trying on every outfit part of you helping out?’
His obvious desire discombobulated her and when he grinned the smug smile of a guy who knew exactly the effect he had on her, she made an impulsive decision to make him pay. She might be inexperienced and naive when it came to sparring with a man but that didn’t mean he could toy with her.
‘My old corsets and bustiers are worn out so I thought I’d replenish my stocks.’ A blush heated her cheeks at the blatant lie but once she started she couldn’t stop. ‘It’s a tough job looking this good for the men of Sydney but somebody’s gotta do it.’
He laughed, a rich, deep rumble that reached down into her chest and filled the lonely ache that resided there.
‘Does that include me, considering I’m a man and I’m in Sydney?’
Charlotte had never played games with any guy. She didn’t flirt and she didn’t elicit grand passion in them. But something about this stranger made her feel like she could do both.
‘Why, do you think I look good?’ She rested her hands on her hips in a blatant invitation for him to look his fill again, wondering what magic powers the lingerie held to make her this bold.
‘Honey, you have no idea.’ He stalked towards her and her newfound bravado fled. She edged towards the table, needing her cell within reach. But like an eternal klutz she stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been by her side in a second. Strong hands steadied her, held her upright, made her yearn for things she had no right to crave.
Up close, he was even more startlingly good-looking: dark wavy hair, blue eyes the colour of Bondi on a clear day, chiselled jaw dusted with the faintest hint of stubble, the perfection marred by a small scar on the underside of his chin. And when he smiled again...oh, boy, she felt it all the way down to her toes and a few choice places in between.
She cleared her throat, trying to summon outrage at being held by a stranger while dressed like a stripper. ‘Let me go.’
But her command sounded soft and uncertain, falling flat if his amused smirk was any indication.
‘Do you want me to?’
He quirked an eyebrow, daring her to deny the invisible energy zapping between them.
She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t do casual sex; could count the number of times she’d actually had sex on one hand because it had been unremarkable. She didn’t believe in instant attraction or one-night stands. Or having vertical sex with a hot stranger in a warehouse.
This wasn’t her.
But what if it could be?
For a moment, she wondered where that voice had come from. Her conscience didn’t encourage her to go wild. Quite the opposite, in fact.
And where had it got her? Alone and craving a relationship.
What if she did something so out of character that she could never go back to the person she was? Would that give her the kick-start she needed to make the life she wanted happen instead of waiting for it to happen to her?
‘I don’t know you... I mean, I’m not good at this...and I don’t usually do this kind of thing with strangers—’
He kissed her. His lips were commanding, his skill obvious in the way he exacted the right amount of pressure—not too hard, not too soft...
A kiss to her meant a meshing
