mind raced, searching for a compromise that, as he’d put it, would allow them both to get what they wanted. She’d never fought so hard. Her self-preservation demanded every inch of ground acquired.
The ultimate test of his mettle would come. Could he withstand what she had planned for him? Would her nerve hold?
Libby’s temperature reached boiling point, seconds away from spontaneous combustion. She shook her head slowly, commanding his full attention. ‘You won’t get your own way all the time.’
He shrugged again, the small half-smile returning. ‘If I had my way…’ he lifted his wine glass, taking a sip, his eyes slowly raking over her mouth ‘…I’d have fucked you at the top of The Shard this morning. Had you screaming my name with that sexy voice of yours.’
Her gasp sounded so loud she expected the whole population of the bar to turn in their direction.
He quirked a scornful brow. ‘Seems to me, you are the one getting her way, Olivia.’
Danger. He reeked of it. Not that her personal safety was in question. But she should run all the same.
Still he stared, his eyes flicking between hers. Still her breaths gusted in and out through parted lips. She held his searing eye contact. A challenge. Battle lines being drawn.
Finishing her martini in one swallow, she slid from the stool, coming to stand between his still spread thighs. She leaned close, her heavy ponytail falling forward, a few strands of hair getting caught in the stubble covering his strong jaw.
With her lips mere millimetres from his ear, she whispered, a thrill tingling up her spine.
‘Quid….’
Closer.
‘Pro…’
She could almost feel the fine hairs on his earlobe tickle her lips.
‘Quo…’
Leaning back, she took the key card from her purse and pressed it into his palm, turned on her heel and left the bar on shaky legs.
HE’D NEVER KNOW how he managed the walk from the bar and across the hotel foyer with his steely hard-on, but he caught up with Libby in two strides. He deliberately didn’t touch her. Hadn’t touched her all evening, although it had almost killed him. But she’d touched him.
Her handprint still burned his thigh, scorched clean though the denim and spoke directly to his cock. The brush of her bare knees, the scent wafting up from her thick, luxuriant hair… He groaned, digging into deep reserves for discipline over his body.
She walked close. Her arm brushed his and the sway of that long, lustrous ponytail tapped his shoulder in time with the clack of her heels across the marble tiles.
They reached the lifts. He pressed the call button, dragging her light floral scent into his lungs until the head rush made him close his eyes for a split second. Fuck. He needed to pull himself together, to grapple back some semblance of mastery. At least over his libido.
He mimicked her, staring straight ahead, his eyes trained on the digital display as the numbers fell, heralding the lift’s arrival.
His mouth burned to kiss her. To see if her plump, pouty lips tasted as good as they’d looked when she whispered the word fucking. On the surface she oozed cool, untouchable sophistication. Not a glorious hair out of place or a wrinkle in sight. But the deal she’d brokered—bold, assertive, knowing what she wanted—what a turn-on. Perhaps it was an American thing. Perhaps it was pure Olivia.
Quid pro quo.
That should have raised his hackles, but he was keen to discover her brand of give and take.
Perhaps he was losing his mind. But, oh, how he’d love to mess her up—to tug out that hair tie and slide his hands through those long, silky tresses, to feel them slither over his face, his chest, his abdomen while she kissed him… How would that austere exterior crack at the height of passion? With her full lips swollen by his kisses, her luminous eyes glazed and punch-drunk? Her smoky voice calling his name with that native New York accent of hers?
At this rate, he’d need a cold shower just to remain in her company. What did she have planned for him? Would he be able to keep it together?
The lift arrived. As the doors opened he saw the car was empty. He cast a glance sideways. He waited, hand out, inviting her to step inside first, all the while battling the urge to push her up against the wall and fuck her right there in the elegant foyer of the Windsor Hotel, Park Lane.
You won’t get your own way all the time.
Right now, he’d gladly take ten per cent. Used to controlling every aspect of his life, especially his sex life, he knew this game he’d agreed to would test every ounce of his willpower.
As if she knew the direction of his thoughts, she poked her tongue out, sliding it along her lower lip, flooding his groin with fresh heat. She stepped inside and he followed, his hands forming fists by his sides to stop himself from touching her.
Doomed. He was so doomed.
If she looked down she’d see the effect this negotiation had had on him. The effect she had on him. He longed to readjust himself in his jeans, but he couldn’t break the spell she’d wound around him as surely as if he was already tangled up in a cloud of that glorious hair. What would she look like naked? With that silky, decadent ponytail liberated until it covered her bare shoulders, the tips brushing her breasts?
She stepped in front of him, leaning over to press the button for her floor. The arch of her long, graceful neck called to him. The phantom taste of her skin lingered on his lips as if he’d already indulged.
He sucked in a breath through flared nostrils, turning to stare at her. Fuck, she was irresistible. Sassy, smart, sexy as hell and completely unimpressed by him. Most women he dated suffocated him with their cloying need to please. To be exactly what they thought he wanted. Olivia Noble didn’t care what he wanted, and good for her. She called the shots. She spoke plainly. He’d never met a woman like her.
She stared back with a momentary flash of hesitancy and a series of blinks of those long lashes over rounded eyes. His chest pinched at this tiny hint of her vulnerability. But he wouldn’t let her off the hook. She’d started this, raised the stakes. And he’d agreed to play give and take—not his usual style—instinct telling him she needed to stay in control at all times.
Why? He’d have to flex his patience if he wanted the answer to that secret.
His body strained, every muscle primed to close the deal. To put them both out of their misery and taste her. But he knew the prize on her terms would be worth the wait, the sacrifice.
She heard his prayer.
Stepping up to him, her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth, she slowly tunnelled her fingers into his hair. The bite of pain tingled over his scalp as she twisted the
