Roses For Sophie (10 page)

‘He's here!' Sophie's voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.

‘Well, yeah. Or it could be the Avon lady?'

Sophie gave her a little punch on the arm.

‘I wish I could stay to meet him, but I'm sure you'll introduce us soon enough.'

‘Maybe.'

‘Have a great night, Sophie. And most importantly, remember, if you really don't want to marry him, send him down to my apartment because I'd jump at the chance.' Sue gave her a quick hug.

Sophie pulled a face. ‘Get going, I'm definitely not going to introduce you two. Believe me, his ego doesn't need another woman drooling over him.'

‘Okay, I'm going, although I'd like to stay and take a peek at his new look.' She opened the door to let herself out. ‘Phone me tomorrow!'

‘Okay. Thanks for the moral support.'

One last look around confirmed that her apartment in the small eastern harbour-side suburb was immaculate.

Okay, here goes.

Logan was a sophisticated man of the world, and she'd come to the decision that tonight they would become lovers. It'd been impossible to banish him from her thoughts. Even when she'd finally fallen asleep the night before, he'd been with her as her lover in her dreams. Every meeting she'd attended today, she'd found it hard to focus when she kept seeing Logan's face in her mind's eye and replaying his words in her head —
I'm here, more than willing to be your lover
. Later tonight, she would make his offer a reality.

The buzzer sounded once more.

Turning on the intercom screen, she saw him standing at the entrance, looking directly up at the camera. They simply didn't come any better looking and as divinely dangerous and sexy.

‘Hi Logan. Take the lift to the top floor.' She pressed the button to open the safety door and saw him enter.

The seconds ticked by, and adrenaline surged within her in anticipation of seeing him again face to face.

Finally, he knocked on the door.

Her legs trembled in anticipation as she walked to answer it.

The appreciation in the blue depths of his eyes made her heart hammer hard. ‘Hi,' she forced out on a shaky breath.

‘Hi.' He held out his hand and she saw a bouquet of coral and yellow roses with Baby's Breath sprinkled between them.

‘Oh! Thank you. They're beautiful.' Taking them from him, she was really touched by the old-fashioned gesture, unable to remember when anyone had given her flowers.

‘You're beautiful,' he told her.

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,' she said lightly, trying to dilute the intense pull between them.

His regard became serious and she immediately regretted her attempt at flippancy.

‘It's true I've always dated beautiful women,' he said slowly.

Heaviness settled around her heart as his words rammed home that she was simply one more ‘beauty' in a long line-up. She supposed she'd asked for that reminder.

‘Of course you have,' she told him in a breezy tone.

Turning toward the kitchen, she went to put the beautiful blooms into a vase of water, inwardly castigating herself all the time she did so. Logan was going to be her lover, she'd already decided that, but she mustn't go building any foolish romantic dreams around him. She was a grown woman and she was going into this affair with her eyes wide open.

Placing the last of the gorgeous roses into the vase, she took a deep breath of the perfume then tried to pull herself together. Maybe he'd brought her flowers, but it didn't mean anything more than he was trying to soften her up and get her to agree to become his wife.

Not realising he'd followed her, she jumped a little as he spoke from close behind her. ‘It may surprise you to know that although I've had my PA send flowers to women on

occasion, I've never brought flowers to a woman before in person.'

His lips brushed against the nape of her neck and she placed her hands on the edge of the kitchen bench as her knees went weak.

‘I've also never researched the meaning of the colour of roses before on the Internet to make sure I got it right.'

‘Really? You did that?' His words had sounded sincere, but they just didn't gel with the impression he'd conveyed last night — the businesslike ‘no love' arrangement of marriage he'd proposed. Sophie turned around to face him and his expression left her in no doubt that he meant every word. Her heart did a strange, tight little contraction and quite possibly missed a beat.

‘Really.' He grimaced a little. ‘I'm not sure what possessed me. It seemed important to get it right.'

‘I'm amazed.'

‘Well, I aim to amaze.' His smile dazzled her again. Then, with a more serious expression, he traced the outline of her lips with his fingertips. ‘Do you know the meanings behind all the different colours of roses, Sophie?'

She shook her head, unable to find her voice in the intensity of this moment that was passing between them. The only meaning she knew was that red roses were for love. This man, who was so against the sentiment, would never bring her those.

Her eyes went to his sculpted mouth and she badly wanted to kiss him. Instead she curled her fingertips into her palms as he rested one hand against the bench on either side of her.

‘Yellow represents friendship and the promise of a new beginning,' he told her. ‘Coral signifies desire. ‘

This time her heartbeat definitely stuttered.

Without another word, he drew her into his arms and lowered his head to claim her lips.

Sophie raised her arms up to his shoulders and her feet took the half-step into his embrace willingly. This was exactly where she wanted to be, against the breadth of his firm chest with his one hand pressed warmly into the small of her back and the other running up over her spine. She tilted her head to grant him full access to her mouth and gave a little satisfied moan the second his masterful lips made contact.

This was what she needed, and as if he sensed her want, Logan didn't hold back. This was no first-time tender, exploratory kiss of discovery. Instead the kiss was fuelled by a conflagration of desire, which had Sophie kissing him back unreservedly, rejoicing in the urgency of his hands as they traced over the curves of her hips and the firm roundness of her buttocks.

The slight pressure of his hands at her backside brought her into more intimate contact with him and she felt the hard jut of his arousal against her abdomen. The knowledge that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him made her feel deliciously feminine.

‘We'll take this as fast or as slowly as you feel comfortable with.'
His declaration from the previous night replayed in her head.

This was fast. Without any question this was record-breaking speed for her. Amazingly, she was also comfortable with it. All day her body had anticipated this. To hell with waiting until later to become lovers!

Breaking the kiss, she said, ‘I don't want dinner. I want you, Logan.'

There was no surprise in his eyes as he looked down at her, just need. ‘Which way to your bedroom, sweetheart?'

Determined to maintain her resolve and not let nerves make her back out, Sophie took his hand and led him there.

The room was dimly lit from the hallway light. Logan walked over to the bed, threw back the covers then switched on a bedside lamp. The soft light cast shadows around the very feminine bedroom where he seemed way too tall and way too masculine.

She stood and watched this man of action. Shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it over a chair, he moved to stand directly in front of her. He lifted his hands to touch her hair. Although he didn't speak, his eyes and his touch communicated to her just how much he was enjoying this fast progression in their relationship.

Her throat dried as his hands left her hair, trailed down her bare arms and around her back to her zipper. The zipper rasped as he pulled it downwards. The sound was amplified when everything else around them was so quiet.

Even though she was innately shy, there was no way Sophie was going to stand there passively. She was twenty-eight years old. She didn't possess anywhere near his experience in the bedroom, but it was important to her that she meet him as an equal participant. With every action she was determined to show him that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her, and that there'd be no regrets from her about the monumental step she was taking. But she also needed to clarify her actions to him.

‘Just so you understand…This is just about sex,' she told him. ‘I'm not making any commitment here.'

He quirked his lips. ‘That's usually my line.'

‘Suits me fine,' she said and tried to believe it. Time to cast aside all the romantic dreams she'd clung to. Life was short and she needed to finally acknowledge that she was a woman with a sexual appetite that needed satisfying.

He brought you roses. He even looked up the meanings on the Internet. How romantic is that?
A seductive voice tempted her to believe there might be more to their relationship.

No.
The realist took over. He might have researched the colour of roses, but the research she'd done on the Internet until the early hours of the morning had been all about him. It proved the man wasn't into commitment. All the online images of him confirmed he was a serial womaniser. Not a man she'd ever contemplate marrying, but certainly a man who seemed more than capable of satisfying her primitive urges.

That was all this night was about. For the first time in her life she was just going to indulge in the gratification of her senses and hopefully sate her physical needs with a man she felt comfortable enough with to trust. She wasn't hurting anyone by doing so and she refused to listen to the little moral voice in her subconscious that told her this was way too out-of-character for her, and that she'd regret it. Sophie wouldn't feel guilty about her plans because she was going to grab this one night for herself.

Trying not to be distracted by the sensations his touch evoked, she fixed her concentration on the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them. When there were still a couple left buttoned, she couldn't help herself. Instead of finishing her task, she ran her palms up and over the tanned skin of the naked male torso she'd already exposed. A light covering of crisp dark hair roughened the texture. Without conscious thought, she leant forward and placed a kiss on the flesh at the base of his neck, then another on the spot where she could see his pulse hammering out its own wild tattoo.

He shuddered at her touch and ran his own hands up over her back. The warmth of his palms against the coolness of the exposed area of her spine was sensational. Experimentally, she darted her tongue tip out to taste him, pushing his shirt out of the way as she did so and flicking her tongue back and forth in tiny movements in a direct pathway to his pebble-hard nipple. Once there, she drew the tiny bud between her lips, only barely aware that he had expertly flicked the clasp of her bra and was beginning to ease both her dress and bra straps off her shoulders.

Raising her head, she gave a shimmy and the fabric of her little black dress slid all the way to the floor. Determined to be unselfconscious by her nakedness and unashamed by her scars, she kicked off her heels, drew the straps of her bra down over her arms and let the garment fall. ‘And I took so much care to get ready,' she said. ‘I may as well have just greeted you in my bathrobe.'

‘Next time, sweetheart.' Heat blazed from his eyes and he stepped back a little to regard the full effect of her naked breasts. One hand still at her back, the other reached up to caress her before he swept her up into his arms and kissed her senseless as he carried her toward the bed.

As soon as he'd gently set her down, he stood at the side of the bed, unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, undid his belt and removed his shoes, socks and trousers. It was only when he stood that she noticed that he too had scar tissue that marred his otherwise perfect torso.

Sophie sat up with a frown and reached out to trace over the two scars. One was a small circular patch of scar tissue just above his heart. The other was a long patch below his left ribs that looked as though his flesh had been slashed with a knife. It must've been a dreadful wound.

‘How did you get this?' she asked, her fingertips skimming the flesh below his ribs.

‘Africa. I was captured by a militia group and held for ransom when I was investigating the blood diamond trade.'

‘I read about that.' She suppressed a shudder at what he must have endured. ‘And this one?' She raised her body up a little more and placed a kiss on the scar above his heart. ‘Were you shot?'

‘The first time I tried to escape they found me and cut me with a long knife.' He touched the scar at his side. ‘This one,' he moved his hand to where her lips had pressed, ‘was a bullet wound. Thankfully I took the bullet the second time I escaped, and I was shot just as I'd made it to the relative safety of the UN vehicle and personnel who were out searching for me. The bullet punctured my lung but missed my heart. Thanks to the UN backup I received the medical attention I needed and lived to tell the tale. Had I been recaptured at that point,' he shrugged, ‘I wouldn't be here now.'

Automatically, she reached out for him, wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself tightly against his rippled stomach, needing to feel he was there, thankful he'd survived his ordeal. ‘It must've been horrendous.'

‘I don't want to think about that now, Sophie. I'd far rather be making love to you.'

Swallowing down on an emotion she couldn't quite put a name to, she drew back.

She captured his hands as he was about to remove his briefs. ‘Let me.' This was something she wanted and needed to do. It was important she undress him. Important that she dictated some of the pace, and kept some of the control.

Surprised at her own boldness, she was pleased when his hands dropped to his sides. First she placed her hands at his hips. Then, she hooked one finger from each hand under the elastic band of his briefs. Instead of pulling the underwear off, she ran both fingers inward, along the band. His erection jerked. With the nails of her thumbs she stroked his hard length up and down through the fabric and his body tensed.