he really, truly, probably did. ‘You don’t have hobbies?’
‘I work out. Hike. Surf, if I get a chance. Haven’t done that for a while. I’ve been building my practice—these things don’t just happen. I—well, I work, Lola. Although sometimes to the detriment of other things—I understand that. You have to make sacrifices.’ It was almost as if he’d just realised that he didn’t do anything else—as if the realisation was finally seeping into his brain, and what exactly that meant for his life. Then he smiled. ‘Oh, and I juggle, but that’s more for relaxation. Well, I used to—it’s been a while. Years, actually. Probably a decade, if I’m honest. So, okay, I admit I’m a sad case of a workaholic—I do all the things I tell my juniors not to do. But I have to work, no one’s going to carry me the rest of my life. Where I end up is up to me. No one else.’
And she wondered what he meant by that—but sensed he was reluctant to talk about it, so she tried to keep things light. ‘So you juggle, like with the oranges earlier? That’s a strange thing to do.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Unusual, yes. Strange—not so. It’s very therapeutic, especially if your brain’s stuck in one thing and you want to move on. I was part of a study when I was at med school. We were testing whether learning a new skill could promote white and grey matter growth in the brain. It does, by the way. It also helps you focus and relax, helps posture and co-ordination...and usually makes people smile.’
‘I might have known it would have some connection to work.’
‘Of course. Plus, it’s a great babe magnet.’
She laughed. ‘Why? How?’
‘That’s my secret.’
‘Tell me?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, then, teach me?’
‘Sure. Why not?’ Standing, he took hold of her arm and they went inside to the kitchen. He picked up two oranges from the fruit bowl, one in each hand, and threw them up in the air. She was mesmerised by the fluidity of his movements, the flex of his hands, the primed, yet relaxed stance. His smile. She was mesmerised by him.
He caught the oranges in one hand, held one out to her. ‘Start like this. Just up and down. That’s right. Now, try two. Throw from one hand to the other in an arc shape. Copy me.’
She did as she was told and copied him as he threw first one orange, then added in another so they crossed in mid throw. ‘Easy!’
‘Okay... Now try using your non-dominant hand. That’s the tricky bit.’
‘Oops.’ One orange landed on the floor in a splat.
He laughed. ‘Not quite ready for flames yet...’
‘You juggle with fire?’
‘I have. I can. Try it like this.’ He stood behind her and captured her between his arms, his hands cupping hers as they threw the oranges into the air. She leaned against him and he held her weight, his breath coming easily against her neck. She could feel the hard wall of his chest against her back, could smell his scent, and she suddenly felt more alive and more clear-headed than she had all day.
Arousal snaked up her spine, through her veins. Her heart began to beat faster. She wanted to turn around and press herself against him, to feel him naked against her. Her hands shook as she held the oranges. His words were in her ear, on her neck, in her hair. ‘Lola...your turn now, on your own. I’ll stay here ready to catch them if you drop them.’
‘I think I’m getting the hang...’ She didn’t finish. Couldn’t finish because his hands were in no place to catch any falling citrus fruit. They had circled her waist and he was turning her round.
As she completed the turn she stared straight into those black pupils glittering with need. The air stilled around them, heavy with intent, like his eyes. ‘God, Lola...’
‘Yes?’ But she didn’t hear his answer, if indeed he answered at all, because his mouth was on hers, hard and hungry. This wasn’t the kind of kiss they’d shared before. This wasn’t gentle or coaxing; this was pure, raw need. And she kissed him back just as hard, the oranges spinning across the floor as she dropped them to spike her fingers into his hair, to pull him closer, and ever closer.
* * *
There was only so much a guy could resist.
He’d thought earlier he was a damned saint for walking away from her—twice. But now he was going to hell and he outright didn’t care.
Because having Lola Bennett was the only thing he’d had on his mind all damned day. All damned week, if he was honest, and if he didn’t act on this he was going to implode. A mist clouded his brain as he pulled her harder to him. All he could see was Lola, all he could breathe, smell, taste was her. Nothing else mattered. Just this. And her. She mattered.
He felt her curves beneath his hands, spoke against her lips. ‘Forget what I said earlier. I was an idiot. I want you, Lola. I want you, right here.’
‘Finally. You know, I was starting to get a complex. One minute you wanted me, the next...not so much.’
‘I always wanted you. I was trying to protect you.’
He felt her body stiffen. She took a step back. ‘Whoa, mister, I don’t need protecting. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me today, but I can manage my life just fine on my own.’
‘Hmm—I know, but you can’t kiss on your own.’ He licked behind her ear, felt her soften a little. ‘Can’t do this on your own. Right?’
‘Good point.’ She giggled—a throaty, dirty sound that stoked even more fury through his veins. Her hands were on his T-shirt, dragging it up over his head. ‘Your bedroom? Or mine?’
‘Not sure we’ll make it that far. Next time maybe. Beds are overrated.’ Right now the kitchen table looked enticing. So did the floor. He was tearing at her clothes, nipping along her throat, en route to tasting those exquisite breasts again. Luckily she still had the bikini on underneath her T-shirt and shorts—two quick tugs and she’d be naked.
Her hand stilled on his. ‘Are you sure about this, Jake. I mean, really sure?’
‘Do you have to ask?’
‘Ya think? With your track record? I’m not going to start something if you’re just going to stop and leave me frustrated. I’m over that.’
‘Come with me. Now.’ There weren’t words enough to tell her how sure he was. He slipped his hands under her legs and picked her up, carried her to the closest soft horizontal surface he could find. One of the couches in the lounge. The flickering torchlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating her full beauty. God, she was more beautiful than a hundred Hollywood actresses. More real. Just more. So much more.
Careful of her leg, he straddled her and slammed his mouth over hers, drank her in, fed on her kisses like a starving man. Her skin was soft, her kisses hot, her moans like licks of heat piercing him. There was nothing he could do to stop this. Nothing he wanted to do more.
She raked her hands across his chest, ran her fingers over his belly
