His Until Midnight (9 page)

Because those big, tan, confident fingers...?

They were trembling like an autumn leaf.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she forced all the doubts and fears and questions out of her mind and just let herself
feel
. The moment she tipped her head, exposing more of her throat above the delicate collar hem of the dress, Oliver dropped his lips straight onto her skin, hot and self-assured.

Her legs practically gave way. If not for the press of his body sandwiching her to the glass window she would have slid in a heap onto the expensive bamboo parquetry. Air shuddered in and out of her on inelegant gasps as his mouth and chin nuzzled below the blue and silver collar, then around to the front of her throat, lathing her collarbone. His hands covered hers on the glass and twisted them down to trace, with him, the silken length of her body.

His knuckles brushed the sides of her breasts, her waist, the swell of her hips, leaving her trembling and alive. Then he released her hands and one of his slipped around to press against her belly while the other traced down the outer curve of one buttock. Beneath its underside.

Her eyes flew open.

‘Just feel it,’ he murmured against her skin. ‘Just be brave.’

The strange choice of words was lost again in the excruciating sensations of his lips back on her throat. They climbed up behind her ear, lingered there a moment and then drifted forward, across her jaw, along her cheek. Searching. Seeking. And when they reached what they were seeking Audrey was more than ready for them.

His mouth pressed against hers on a masculine, throaty sigh, and she twisted slightly in his hold to improve her purchase and meet his exploration with her own.

Wave after wave of vertigo washed over her as she stood, pressed against nothing but open sky and man, all the air in her body escaping out to mingle with Oliver’s. She clung to his lips as though they were the only thing stopping her from plunging sixty storeys.

He tasted exactly as she’d dreamed—decadent and masculine and delicious.

He felt just as she’d always imagined—hard and hot and in control.

But so, so much better. Like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Be brave
, he’d said. This was what he meant. Take a chance.

Embrace the risk.

She twisted fully in his grasp, pressing her back to the glass, and slid her arms up around his bent neck.

And she kissed him back for all she was worth.

Things really took off then. Oliver slid his foot between her feet and nudged them apart, making room for the expensive fabric of his thigh. That pressed against her everywhere she’d started to ache but it also took over the important job of holding her up, which freed his hands to roam the front of her body where they’d been unable to go moments before.

One plunged up into her hair and the other trailed its way up to a breast. And he relieved her of another ache, there, with a gentle squeeze.

He ripped his mouth from hers as fast as his hand snatched away from her breast. ‘You’re not wearing a bra?’

Confusion dazzled her, but she answered, ‘It was in the pile you sent for cleaning.’ Some of the salsa had soaked through onto it. Which was a ridiculous thought to be having just now.

‘That’s going to make it a bit harder,’ he gritted, blazing the words along the neglected side of her throat.

It was all she could do to harness enough air to keep speaking. ‘Make what harder?’

‘Stopping.’

‘Why would you stop?’

Why
in this world...
?

‘Because we’re about to have company.’

She ripped her ear away from where his hot lips were torturing them. Company wasn’t
just the two of them
. Company wasn’t
no one will know.
Company was public. And she was standing with her skirt half hiked up sandwiched between Oliver and the window in the direct eyeline of the door.

He stepped back, but not without reluctance.

‘What company?’

‘I asked for the next dish to be served up here.’

‘Why the hell would you do that?’

Well...wasn’t she quite the lady when in the throes of carnal disappointment?

Moisture from her swollen lips glinted on his as he smiled. ‘I didn’t know this was going to happen. I thought you might have appreciated the privacy.’

She tugged her skirt down. He stepped back.

Looks like stopping is all taken care of.
‘I would love privacy right now.’

‘You don’t have to eat it. We can resume the moment they’re gone.’ His gaze grew keen. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Was that what she wanted? Yes, right now it really was. Right now, she was numb all over except for some very dissatisfied, very grumpy, very pointed points of focus that couldn’t really think of anything other than resuming. But in five minutes...who knew? By then her brain might have kicked back in and reminded her of all the reasons this was a bad, bad idea.

In five minutes this could all be over.

You have to be certain.
That was what he’d said, and maybe this was what he’d meant. That she needed to be certain in the cold, hard light of reality, not the hot, fevered place he’d just taken her.

On cue, the door sounded slightly. She spun to face back out of the window, tugging her dress unnecessarily into position and pretending she’d just been admiring the view, not the sensation of Oliver’s hand on the screaming flesh of her breast. Behind her, Oliver accepted the meal with thanks and closed the door quietly.

Then there was silence. So much silence that Audrey eventually turned around.

He stood, staring at her silhouette, the loaded tray balanced in his arms, a question on his face.

Giving her the choice.

Another bonus of being rich, he could ignore the just-delivered food, spend the evening trying out every soft surface in the place—and a few of the harder ones—and nothing would ever be said. At least not aloud.

If only the rest of the world worked that way.

Her pulse hadn’t even had time to settle, yet. How could she make a good decision with it still screaming around her body with a swag of natural chemicals in tow?

She made her choice, curling one arm across her torso. ‘What’s under the lid?’

‘Fingers of chilled ginger specially prepared.’ If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show particularly. He quirked one eyebrow, deliciously, and wet the lips that had just done such gorgeous damage to hers. ‘Want a taste, Audrey?’

Okay, so he wasn’t going to let her go easily.

She smoothed her dress once again and then crossed to the oversized dining table and slid into the seat at one corner. With no chair at the end he would either have to sit next to her or across from her. One was too close but she wouldn’t have to look into those all-seeing eyes. The other...

Of course he chose that one, sinking into the seat immediately opposite.

‘Stop thinking,’ he murmured as he lifted the lid off the delivered tray and spread the contents between them on the table.

‘I’m not.’

‘You are. And you’re partitioning. I can see it happening.’ He served up the fanned palate cleanser. ‘You’re separating the parts of what just happened into acceptable and unacceptable and you’re locking them in different boxes.’

She kept her eyes averted.

‘But I’m curious to know what you put where.’

She lifted her gaze for an answer.

‘Where did you file being here, with me, alone in this suite?’

She took a deep, slow breath. ‘Being here is necessary. And sensible.’ And therefore completely defensible.

‘What about being in that dress?’

‘The dress is beautiful. It makes me feel beautiful.’ The door was wide open for him to say ‘
you are beautiful
’. But he didn’t. Part of her was pleased that he didn’t resort to trite niceties. A smaller part cried just a little bit.

He leaned back in the expensive chair and considered her. ‘What would you change? If you could? If money was no object.’

She considered. The shape of her eyes wasn’t anything to write home about unaided, but they came up pretty well under skilfully applied make-up. And their colour was harmless enough. Her lips were even and inoffensive, not too small, and they sat neatly under a long straight nose. Even that couldn’t be called a problem, particularly.

It was just all so...lacklustre.

‘My jaw’s a bit square.’

He shook his head once. ‘It’s strong. Defined.’

‘You asked me what I’d change. That’s something.’

‘It gives you character.’

She laughed. ‘Yep. Because all women hunger to have a face “with character”.’

‘You can have character and still be beautiful. But okay, what else?’

She sighed. ‘It’s not a case of individual flaws. It’s not like I could get a brow-lift or have my ears pinned and I’d feel reborn. It’s just that I don’t have...’ She considered her wording options. ‘There’s no
standout
feature in my appearance.’

‘I could name three.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘I’m serious. Want to hear them?’

She took a deep breath. Part of her wanted to watch him flounder, to make him own his lies. But a deeper part again wondered if he might see her differently from what she saw in the mirror. Curiosity won.

‘Sure.’

‘Your cheekbones,’ he started, immediately, as though he’d been waiting years to say it. ‘You don’t highlight them, but you don’t need to. And when you smile and your muscles contract their angle seems to intensify.’

She lifted one brow. ‘Good to know.’

‘And that’s number two, despite the sarcasm. Your face is rich with...intelligence. You always look so switched on, so intent. That stands out for me, big time.’

‘I have a smart face?’

‘Anyone can have a garden-variety pretty face...’

She processed that. His body language said he was serious, but she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself by getting all hot and bothered by his praise. ‘Wow, I’m very curious to know what could possibly top a “smart” face...’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Your body.’

Not what she was expecting. And the intent fixation of his gaze was just a little bit disconcerting. ‘Please don’t call me athletic.’

‘No?’ Which meant he’d been about to.

‘That’s code for “shapeless and flat-chested”.’

‘Only if you’re looking for offence.’ He considered her and his eyes darkened before he spoke. ‘Here’s what athletic means to me.’

He leaned slightly forward.

‘Malleable. Flexible.’ Every word was more of a breath. ‘Resilient. Strong. It’s a body that won’t break easily under duress.’

The air flowing in and out of her lungs seemed to divest itself of oxygen and she had to increase her respiration to compensate. Her undisciplined imagination filled with images of the kind of duress he might be referring to. And ways of applying it.

‘I think of endurance and fortitude—’

‘Is everything about sex with you?’ she breathed.

Pot. Kettle. Black.

‘Who says I’m just talking about sex? What about a long, healthy life? What about childbirth? What about long hikes out there—’ he indicated the steep slope of Hong Kong’s wilderness trails on a distant green mountain ‘—and stretching out, long and straight on this sofa watching a movie? A man might see the surface details with his eyes, but his biology is naturally drawn to the kind of mate that will live as long as he does.’

The picture he painted was idyllic and she got the sense that that was exactly what he saw when he looked at her.

Potential.

Not flaws.

Awkwardness—and awareness—surged around them. She never was good with compliments, but there was also the sense that maybe he’d given the subject of her figure a whole lot more thought than just a few seconds.

‘Although, yeah, it’s definitely the kind of body that tends to make a man start thinking about getting sweaty.’ Those thoughts reflected darkly in his eyes. ‘And that’s a whole other body part paying attention.’

Audrey grabbed the levity like a life raft on the sea of unspoken meaning on which she’d suddenly found herself adrift. ‘That’s what I figured.’

He joined her in that life raft. ‘What can I say? I’m a man of very few dimensions.’

Not true. Not at all. And she was just beginning to get a sense of how much she’d yet to learn about him. And about how long that could take.

‘I wish you could see yourself as I see you,’ he murmured.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t lose sleep over it or anything.’

‘I know. But I’d love to watch you walk into a room, full of knowing self-confidence instead of doubt.’

She knew exactly what he was talking about. Somewhere along the line she learned to downplay her strengths, maybe to fly under the radar. ‘Confidence attracts you?’

‘Completely.’

‘Is that what the beautiful women are all about?’

‘It’s not their aesthetics I’m drawn to.’

No. She was starting to realise how shallow her accusation that
he
was shallow really was.

‘But sadly the confidence doesn’t always hold up. Some of them were the most fragile women I’ve ever met.’

‘Maybe you just expect too much?’ she risked.

‘By knowing what I want?’

‘By expecting it all. And maybe they got the sense that they were failing to measure up to some undefined standard.’

He stared at her. ‘Law of averages. If one woman can have everything I want, then there has to be another.’

She had
everything
he wanted? That was a whole lot more than just intellectual compatibility. Her heart thumped madly. ‘And yet I lack the confidence you look for. So incomplete, after all.’

‘I said you don’t see it, not that you don’t have it. You could own any room you walked into if you could just tap into your self-belief.’

If only it were
as easy
as turning on a tap. ‘A few more conversations like this one and maybe I will.’

He looked inordinately pleased to have pleased her. ‘I live to serve.’

The intensity of his gaze reached out and curled around her throat, cutting off most of her air. ‘Really? Then how about serving me another finger?’