Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe. Heidi Rice
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‘Whose party is it?’ Assuming it was a party.
He lifted his hand off her leg, tucked one of the curls behind her ear as he hitched his shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘Just an associate. She’s the reason I’m in London. And believe me, if she hadn’t insisted on meeting up tonight, we wouldn’t be here.’ He leaned across the seat and kissed the side of her neck. Her pulse galloped against her skin. ‘I can think of a few other things I’d much rather be doing,’ he murmured. He took a deep breath in. ‘You smell delicious.’
She.
Cassie’s mind seized on the word as she struggled not to get sidetracked by the feel of his lips tracing across her collarbone. The man had seriously talented lips. ‘Who is she?’
‘Hmm?’ he said nonchalantly, his hand moving to her waist.
‘Are you involved with her?’ She forced the question out, felt the shimmer of regret when his lips stopped nuzzling.
She couldn’t see his expression clearly in the dim light of the car, her heart beating hard in her chest as she waited for a reply. She should have asked this question sooner. A lot sooner. She knew that she was young, free and single, as Nessa had put it. But she’d got so carried away with her own fantasies, she hadn’t stopped to check if he was. She knew what kind of a guy he was where women were concerned. He hadn’t exactly disguised it. She had no right to feel disappointed. But still the thought that he might be attached made her stomach turn over.
He touched her cheek, ran his thumb down to her chin. ‘Exactly how much of a jerk do you think I am?’
The question sounded amused, but underneath she detected an edge. The breath she hadn’t realised she was holding gushed out. She told herself the relief was purely physical. Having psyched herself up to enjoy tonight, it would be devastating to have the prize whisked away at the last minute.
‘It’s not that …’ She wasn’t judging him. She didn’t have the right to judge him. This was just a one-night deal. For both of them. But even so, she would never allow herself to hurt another woman the way she’d been hurt. The way her mother had been hurt. ‘It’s just, I want to be sure you’re not in a relationship. I wouldn’t feel right sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend.’
Jace stiffened at the question. He hated being asked about his personal life.
But this was his own stupid fault. He could hardly blame her for wanting to know more about him. He’d rushed things, indulged himself and this was the inevitable result.
He hadn’t planned to get so carried away earlier. Had only planned to kiss her, but once he’d tasted her, she’d been so delicious, her response so artlessly seductive, he’d been consumed by the desire to taste more, like a starving man at a banquet, desperate to tuck in. The sound of her shocked little sighs as he’d stroked her thigh, the weight of her plump breasts pillowed against his chest, and the sultry Christmas scent of her hair had been so damned erotic he’d been rock hard in seconds. She’d been slick and wet and ready for him and the feel of her contracting around his fingers had nearly made him come in his pants. He’d had to use every last ounce of his control not to rip her clothes off and bury himself deep inside her. All thoughts of Helen’s stupid party and the reasons why he’d flown three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic had shot right out of his head. The desire to stay in the suite and spend the time devouring Cassie Fitzgerald instead had been all but irresistible. Which was exactly why he’d resisted it.
He should have won an Oscar for the performance he’d given, pretending he wasn’t as affected as he looked. But he’d forced himself to hold back. Because he’d learned from experience that losing control and rushing into sex was never a good idea. He didn’t do that any more and—once he’d managed to get his blood pressure back out of the danger zone—he’d remembered why.
Taking her to Helen’s party for an hour had presented the perfect way to curb his lust without risking her running off. And seeing Helen again would bring him face to face with all the reasons why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down with any woman—even one as apparently guileless as Cassie.
Given all of that, it shouldn’t matter that she’d assumed the worst of him. He’d stopped caring about other people’s opinions when he was a boy—when he’d figured out that it really made no difference what he did, they would always think the worst. But even Helen’s constant and completely unfounded accusations of infidelity hadn’t bothered him as much as the disappointment and resignation he could see in Cassie’s wide blue eyes.
He didn’t know Cassie and he didn’t want to know her other than in a purely physical sense. The only connection they shared was a live-wire sexual chemistry that would soon burn out, once they’d both had their fill of each other. But even so, he couldn’t quite deny the knot of tension in his shoulders.
‘I’m not in a relationship,’ he replied, struggling to keep his voice casual. ‘And I wouldn’t be trying to seduce you if I were.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to imply …’ she cleared her throat ‘ … that you weren’t honourable.’
The earnest statement was so sincere, he laughed, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had come. Settling his other hand on her waist, he dragged her closer. The movement tightened the seat belt under her breast and drew his gaze down to the enticing swell of her cleavage.
‘Cassie, the one thing I’ve never been is honourable.’ He pressed his face into her hair, let his lips linger on the fluttering pulse beneath her ear. ‘If you had any idea how I plan to take advantage of you later tonight, you’d know exactly how dishonourable I am.’
She gave a husky little laugh that had his insides twisting into knots of a different kind. She tilted her head back; her bright gaze met his. ‘I don’t remember agreeing to come back with you tonight.’
‘Yeah, but you will,’ he said, his confidence returning full force as he saw her tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip. His palm rode down the curve of her hip, then snuck under her coat to caress the top of her thigh. ‘How about I remind you how persuasive I can be?’
She grabbed his wrist, brought it firmly back to her waist. ‘Let’s not,’ she said, her lips tilting in a nervous smile. ‘We wouldn’t want to shock the chauffeur.’
He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. ‘Wouldn’t we?’
She wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully. ‘Not while he’s driving.’
As if on cue, the screen slid down and the man in question spoke. ‘We’ve arrived at the restaurant, Mr Ryan.’
‘That was quick.’ Too damn quick.
‘Traffic was surprisingly light tonight, sir,’ the driver replied.
Releasing the catch on Cassie’s seat belt, Jace took her hand in his. ‘Don’t bother to get out, Dave,’ he said through the partition.
Opening the car door, he stepped out, tugging Cassie out behind him.
‘See