Third Time Lucky (6 page)

I stand up again, transferring my attention to higher up his body.

Wow.

‘I can see you’ve missed me,’ I say. ‘Hold that thought and lie there.’

Swiftly, I pull my top over my head and take off my jeans so that I’m left in only my underwear.

‘New?’
His hungry gaze seems to curl sensuously around my body, making goosebumps pop out on my exposed skin. Agent Provocateur is not my usual brand and this black set was an impulse purchase that’s way racier than the rest of my lingerie.

‘Yes, new – you like? I decided to treat myself after I’d finished the first draft of my essay. I’ve been working while you’ve been idling away in your bed, you know,’ I tease.

‘Top marks. Do I get to see you take it off?’

Reaching behind me, I unhook the back of the bra and let it slither down my arms and on to the floor. As the cool air hits my bared breasts, my nipples pucker. Three weeks of Alexander abstinence suddenly seems like an age.

Alexander stares at me with an intensity that scares me. ‘You will be the death of me one day, Lauren.’

His words and his expression hit me like a sucker punch. ‘No one ever died of lust,’ I say lightly.

‘Are you sure?’

Judging by his erection, I have to admit he may explode soon, but I’m having way too much fun and I’m going to make him suffer before I put him out of his misery. Slowly, I slide the lacy thong over my hips and down my thighs.

He shifts his pelvis, unable to keep still. ‘I can’t stand much more of this, Lauren.’

‘Patience, Captain Hunt.’

‘I’m out of patience.’ His voice softens. ‘
Please
.’

I
climb on to the bed next to him and straddle him.

‘I think I may be in heaven,’ he murmurs.

I lean forward and whisper, ‘I very much doubt heaven would let you in right now …’

The hair on his outer thighs tickles the soft skin of my inner thighs and my muscles have to stretch wide to accommodate him. He reaches up with his good arm and rests it on my waist. Slick with arousal, I ease myself on to him and he lifts his hips to push deeper inside me. Sinking on to him, becoming part of him, feels so good, so natural that I scare myself.

I flatten my palms either side of my thighs and brace myself as he thumbs me with the lightest of touches, shooting tremors of pleasure right through my core. I love the tension, the tautening of his muscles and mine, the melding of our bodies.

He massages me with feather-light strokes, until I’m tangling the bedcover in my fingers and rocking back and forth on him. I didn’t think he could grow any bigger or harder but he’s stretched me a little more until I’m speared deliciously on his full length. He raises his pelvis higher off the bed and deeper into me, while he circles my swollen, tender nub with his finger until the first waves of sensation start to pulse through my body.

Wriggling and writhing, I want to draw him even deeper into me while my orgasm rockets through me. His fingers dig into my bottom and when I open my eyes, his are shut and his face is contorted with the pleasurable agony of his climax before he pulses inside
me. I lean back and let another wave of sensation ripple through me, and another, and again … I never want this to end. I want things to stay like this for ever, in this perfect moment of pure uncomplicated pleasure.

A while later, I’m lying by Alexander’s side, still naked, with him still minus his trousers.

Idly, I walk my fingers along his chest. ‘You OK?’

‘Sore. I thought I was OK while I was, shall we say, distracted. But I’m paying the price now.’ He pauses. ‘Maybe the only solution is to do it again.’

I splutter, thinking he’s joking until I see his face. I shiver with anticipation. ‘Do you think you could?’

By the look of him, and the way I’m pushing myself against his thigh, I realize that if I lie here any longer then the answer would be ‘yes’. But I see a tiredness behind his eyes and his colour is not good, so instead I reluctantly remove my hand from his chest and wriggle into a sitting position.

He stays where he is, watching me. ‘You know what, Lauren? I’m going to need a lot of TLC now I’m home. An awful lot.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Really? I thought you wanted to be independent and dreaded anyone making a fuss.’

‘I can make an exception if this is what TLC means.’

‘I think that you can have too much of a good thing.’

‘Bollocks. Come back to bed.’

‘No.
I need to take a bath and get dressed. And, believe it or not, you do need to rest. Do you want a hand to get up?’

‘I don’t know. Let me try.’

With a grunt, he uses his good arm to push himself up and manages to twist off the bed and stand.

I stifle a giggle at the sight of him, with his arm in a sling and his shirt hanging over his butt.

‘What’s amusing?’

‘I’m wondering what Robert would make of the sight of Lord Falconbury in such disarray.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘I think he’d say, “Good for his lordship.” Now, if you’re not going to oblige me again, I also need a shower …’ His gaze lingers on me. ‘Or a bath. How do you feel about saving water?’

I shake my head. ‘We can’t both get in the tub with your arm like that. Didn’t the nurses tell you to keep the dressing dry until they change it next week?’

He pulls a face. ‘True, but I have a solution.’

Warm water laps around my breasts as Alexander watches me take a bath. He’s placed the padded stool from the dressing table next to the claw-footed tub in his en-suite. He’s now sitting next to me, still in his shirt tails but with a bath sheet draped over his lap. The Creed bath oil I poured into the tub has a sensual woody fragrance that scents the steam rising from the water. Alexander’s greedy gaze never leaves me while I rub the foamy sponge over my breasts and chest and lift my legs out of the water to wash them.

As
soon as I get out of the bath, I expect him to hand me the bath sheet but he keeps still.

‘Come here.’

‘I’m soaking wet.’

‘I hope so.’ Once I’m within reach, he leans forward in his seat and presses his face to my wet stomach. With one hand he pulls me to him and splays it over one cheek of my bottom, his fingers sliding over my wet skin.

I tangle my hands in his hair and whisper, ‘Your turn, Captain Hunt, but you’re going to have to take off your shirt. Want any help?’

‘Not really, but if it means you stay naked for longer, I’ll take any assistance I can get.’

After I’ve let some of the water out of the tub, I help him slide the shirt off until he’s naked too. With one hand on the rolled edge to steady himself, he climbs into the tub.

With a little assistance and a few curses, he manages to sit down and even though the water is shallow, some of it splashes over the rim and pools on the black and white tiles.

‘Hey there, be careful.’

‘This is bloody awkward,’ he mutters, holding his injured arm higher above the water.

I pick up the damp sponge from the side of bath, squirt shower gel on to the centre and squeeze until it’s creamy with lather. Foamy suds drip on to his bare chest as I dab the sponge on his bruised pecs.

‘How
sore are your ribs?’ I ask, skating the sponge over his skin.

‘Not too bad with the cocktail of painkillers I’m on, and, of course, the distraction of my naked nurse.’

Ignoring this remark, I pat the purple and yellow marks on his chest as gently as I can. ‘These are very colourful, like an abstract painting. A little Modigliani-esque. Whoever made them must have been an artist.’

‘They certainly took great pleasure in creating them,’ he says curtly.

‘I can believe it.’ Still brandishing my sponge, I switch position to the rear of the tub. ‘Lean forward a little.’

I apply the sponge to his shoulders and neck, drizzling the fragrant foam down his back.

‘Would you like me to wash your hair for you?’

‘Yes, why not?’

He’s meekness itself, and I have to admit I love taking charge. He relaxes against the back of the tub while I massage his citrusy shampoo into his scalp and work up a lather.

‘You’d better close your eyes. Tilt forward.’

I pick up an old-fashioned metal jug from the vanity unit, fill it with tepid water and pour the contents over his head. He shakes, spraying me with droplets.

Water chases down his shoulder blades, obscuring his bruises momentarily under rivulets of foam. Once again I wonder what the hell happened to him. Will I ever find out? Do I even want to know?

He
shakes his head again, to rid his face of water droplets.

‘You look like Benny after he’s been in the stream.’

He laughs. ‘Do I?’

‘Uh-huh.’

His wet hair glistens in the sunlight streaming through the window and beads of water glisten on his forehead, cheeks and chest.

Crossing to the side of the tub again, I dip the sponge back in the water and rub it over his abs. It’s a big tub but he still has to bend his legs to fit inside, and when I touch his stomach, he tenses. I’m not sure if it’s pain or because the sponge is only inches from his vital parts. I push the sponge beneath the water and gently rub it between his thighs, feeling his erection grow. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. ‘Did you know your breasts jiggle when you bend over me?’

‘Tsk. That’s highly inappropriate, Captain Hunt.’

‘And you bathing every inch of me, completely nude, isn’t?’

‘Be quiet or I won’t finish the job, and you wouldn’t like that, would you?’

Kneeling by the tub, I turn my attention to his thighs, rubbing the muscular planes with lather from the sponge, working my way from his groin, over his knees and down his shinbones to his feet.

‘I’ve never been so clean,’ he murmurs when I’ve washed both legs thoroughly.

‘I
haven’t finished.’

Lathering my hands with the shower gel, I dip my fingers between his thighs and cup him in my hand.

He collapses back against the tub, eyes closed. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘What’s the matter? Does it hurt?’

‘Only if you stop.’

I wash him thoroughly until he says hoarsely, ‘It’s no good. I have to get out.’ I get up from my knees to help him but it’s still a struggle for him to get out of the tub. Finally, he’s back on terra firma, looking like some classical warrior fresh from battle. My God, if he knew what I was thinking, he’d laugh.

I don’t care; I want him and give no resistance when, still dripping wet, he advances on me and presses me against him. Water runs down his face on to mine as he claims my mouth in a hot wet kiss before taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom.

We stand by the bed as he drops kisses on my bare shoulders and neck. Not
quite
knowing what’s in store for me, I shiver with excitement as he curves his free hand around my bottom, urging me forward to the sofa in front of the window. His skin is still damp and his hair wet and tousled. He smells divine, of sex and spicy bath foam.

Wordlessly he moves behind me, stroking my stomach with the lightest and most delicious of touches before pushing me gently towards the sofa. I start to
lean forward over it, hearing the sharp intake of breath as I do so. ‘Lauren … Jesus, what are you doing to me,’ he whispers, his voice ragged.

God, his voice, just the way he says that last line deserves a triple-X-rating. I face the window and tilt my hips forward, sliding my palms along the sofa cushion until I’m bent right over. The velvet roll-edge is soft against my stomach and I hear Alexander moving. I think he’s on his knees behind me, kissing me.

My face burns up. It’s so
intimate
and bordering on kinky but also wildly sexy.

After a few more kisses that have me pressing myself shamelessly against the sofa arm, he draws a line with his finger between my legs, from front to back. It’s so unexpected, so …
delicious
that my stomach clenches with shock and lust. I crush myself against the sofa and dig my fingers into the velvet cushion.

When he follows up by pushing a finger gently inside me, I cry out, yet he’s relentless, teasing me, stroking and touching me until I claw the sofa in desperation.

‘The view I have is amazing. You have a truly magnificent bottom,’ he says.

‘I’m not – uh – a work of art and I’m, um – also going to – ah – come any moment.
Please
, Alexander, just come on!’

‘Oh, if you insist.’ He puts a hand on my hip to steady us both and then my toes are almost lifted off the floor as he guides himself inside me. Even though I’m wet and ready, the fit is tight, but wonderful. His thighs
are hard against my bottom and I want him even deeper so I lift myself a little, fingers steepling against the sofa as he drives in and out of me. Each thrust increases the friction on my sensitized nub, trapped between his thighs and the velvet sofa, spreading sensation through me … His thrusts become wilder, my orgasm builds until I’m grinding myself against the couch, desperate to release the tension, the burning, raw tension, until finally my climax overtakes me.

I walk out of the bathroom some time later to find Alexander trying to pull on his socks with one hand. To give him credit, he did manage to get his boxers on, but it’s hard not to laugh at the sight of him cursing while he tries to work the sock over his foot. In fact, I stop trying not to laugh.

‘It’s not funny.’ He shoots me one of his glares, making me want to laugh even more.

‘Want a hand with those socks?’

‘No, I can manage.’

I watch him struggle, knowing I need to leave him to it.

‘How much longer do you have to wear the sling?’

‘I’ll have to see what they say at my next appointment but I hope I can get rid of it soon. It’s driving me mad and I want to be able to start running and riding again. And,’ he says, teasing a damp strand of hair out of my eyes, ‘getting back to normal in every other way.’

The look he gives me makes me want to forget all about what I should be doing downstairs and pull all our clothes off again.

‘It’s so frustrating, not being able to do exactly what I want to you.’ He reaches out with his good hand and
gently strokes my hip, all the while never taking his eyes from mine.

‘I think we’ve done pretty well,’ I manage, trying to pull myself together, aware of the girls waiting for me downstairs and the knowledge that despite what Alexander may want, what he needs is rest. I pull on my shoes and prepare to head downstairs, saying briskly, ‘Let’s hope they agree to the sling coming off soon.’

‘Even if they do, I’m still going to be quite helpless for a while,’ he teases. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to allow you to go home to your parents,’ he continues, more serious now.

‘I see.’ I rest my fingers on his chest, enjoying his teasing but remembering that I do have some decisions to make. He sees my frown.

‘What’s the matter?’

Where do you want me to start?
I think but I give a casual shrug. ‘Nothing … but you’re right, I do need to call my parents and tell them when – if – I’m going home. It’s almost three weeks into the vacation already and I haven’t spoken to them since before the weekend. They think I’m still at Immy’s.’

He drops his hand from my hip. ‘You haven’t told them about me yet? I can understand that, and of course I don’t want to keep you away from them.’ He gets up, turns his back and walks towards the window, where the drapes are still drawn across from earlier. He opens them and stands looking out over the estate.

I
have no idea what to say; I have no idea what
he’s
about to say.

‘I have no right to do this …’ he mutters to the window. I can’t see his face and I guess that’s intentional, because he’s obviously finding it difficult to let on that he needs any human being apart from, perhaps, Emma. ‘I’ve no right to keep you from your family and ruin your plans, but if you did decide to stay here at Falconbury, I wouldn’t mind.’

‘Wouldn’t
mind
?’

He turns back to face me, stiff and awkward. ‘I’m not going to force you, Lauren.’

‘Or beg?’

He steps forward and I see a wry twitch of his lips. ‘Would it help if I
did
beg?’

I see that making this all a jokey game is easier for him. ‘Try me.’

‘What? On my knees?’

I have an urge to laugh out loud at the battle raging behind those proud, arrogant eyes. He thinks I’m joking – he hopes I am – but he’s not
quite
sure.

He still hesitates. ‘You really want me to get down in front of you?’

‘Uh-huh.’

Shaking his head, he advances towards me, takes a step and drops to one knee, then both.

‘Please, Lauren,’ he wheedles, ‘will you spend the rest of the vacation with me?’

I
give an exaggerated sigh. ‘That sounds like sarcasm to me.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’

‘Don’t ruin it, Alexander.’

He assumes a chastened expression. ‘My apologies. Please stay, Lauren.’

‘You don’t sound very convinced. Or convincing.’

His eyes burn into me but he reins in any backchat. ‘Dear Lauren, I will die of sexual frustration and sheer boredom if you leave me here on my own at Falconbury. It would give me the greatest pleasure imaginable if you would consent to stay and favour me with your company and your insanely sexy body …’

‘Better,’ I mutter, fizzing with amusement and delight behind my ‘yeah, whatever’ facade.

‘Even if you will also probably drive me mad with your teasing and outrageous demands.’

‘What outrageous demands? I
never
make outrageous demands.’

His mouth quirks in a wicked smile. ‘So why is an injured man, who is in constant pain, I might add, being forced to beg a woman to stay with him? I call that outrageous.’

‘Because you, Alexander, have no choice.’

‘So that’s a “yes”?’

I heave another theatrical sigh and place my finger on my chin as if I’m considering the situation. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say, then seeing his crestfallen face, I add,
‘I do want to stay, actually, but I have my parents to consider. I was supposed to be going home. Just let me get a few things sorted before I make any promises.’

‘I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.’ He gets up, remarkably swiftly for a man in constant pain, and using his good arm pulls me tightly against his damp chest.

‘Thank you, and I really do want you to stay, so I hope you can,’ he whispers, this time without a trace of irony and with an intensity that shocks me. Then he kisses me, a long, deep and tender kiss that makes me tingle from scalp to toes. Something inside me fizzes and pops like I have just won the lottery and yet I can’t quite stop the niggle at the back of my mind that tells me this wasn’t the way I’d planned things at all.