Crazy, Undercover, Love (19 page)

‘What?’ I gasp, eyes closing, neck arching further to give him easier access. I can’t resist. His other hand slides up my thigh, index finger tracing the inside seam of my tight jeans.

‘I heard the way you spoke to Ferrier, how you didn’t want him. It tells me you don’t make a habit of getting involved with people at work. So perhaps I’m the exception.’

I squirm, both at the movement of his hand and his words. This is turning into the biggest mess imaginable. ‘Where is Tony?’ I ask, praying my high–pitched voice isn't a giveaway.

‘I sent him home, back to the UK.’ He bites my earlobe. ‘He was done here anyway.’

‘D–did you talk to him, ask him anything?’

‘No. I just got his plane ticket swapped and off he went. I didn’t like the man to be honest. Taking all the credit for those fantastic results when they're down to the staff and the manager before him.’

Safe, I think. I’m safe. It’s over, for now. But I have to tell Alex the truth, before we go any further. My words are stolen as he tips me back on the sofa and plants a deep, mouth–watering kiss on me. Ooohhh  …  Lifting trembling hands to his back, I tug his shirt from his trousers, my legs falling open to let him settle against me.

He moves away a mere millimetre, whispers into my mouth, ‘I’ll finish it this time.’

I stop being able to think. The only thing I can utter is, ‘You’d better.’ His skin is blistering satin, a texture I need more of to be complete. Another kiss and he drops down to scrape his stubble along my neck. The contents of my underwear zing and my hips roll in response.

Yanking up my top, he pulls my bra down and puts his mouth on me, sucking a nipple, tweaking the other with shaking urgent fingers. I writhe, I pant, I lose all self–control. I don’t care. He changes to a licking motion so he can talk. I’m glad someone in the room can. God. If he doesn’t take our clothes off soon I’ll kill him.

‘I just need to forget,’ he mutters. ‘Help me forget.’ Rearing up, he kneels over me, thighs taut, grabbing my top and wrenching it over my head. Jerking open the zip of my skinnies to reveal my lacy underwear, he frowns, ‘Are you on the pill? I have condoms—’

‘We’ll use protection.’ I twist under him and his warmth wraps around me and his clever fingers delve inside my knickers. ‘Hurry,’ I moan.

He stands and scoops me up, walking us both into my bedroom, kissing me along the way. As I slide down his body to stand, I wrench open the rest of his shirt buttons, yank it down his arms and throw it across the room. Alex lays me down on the wide bed and I reach around to sweep a book and clothing and jewellery to the floor. My mouth goes desert dry as he stands, peeling off his trousers, staring down at me with undeniable hunger. His skin is bronze, pectorals ridged and coated with a light dusting of dark hair continuing down into a sexy line between defined abs I will definitely count later.

He is universe-tiltingly gorgeous, shoulders wide, biceps hard, waist lean above his clingy jockey shorts. The only sound in this private place, a bubble where no one and nothing else exists apart from us, is the panting of our breaths, the rustle of clothing.

Alex’s eyes burn into mine as he slides his shorts off. I gulp and suck in a breath on a little squeak. Wow. He is gifted in
all
the right areas. I just hope he knows how to use those gifts.

Grabbing a condom from his wallet, he climbs onto the bed and helps me undress. I expect it to be hot and dirty and quick. But he shocks me by brushing my hair from my face, running his fingers over my cheekbones.

‘Beautiful, vibrant,’ he smiles gently, ‘perfect.’ Then he slides down my body, fixes my hips to the bed with heavy hands, trails blazing heat down the inside of my thigh with his tongue, looks up at me knowingly and gets to work with his pillow lips. They feel as heavenly as they look.

I’m soon gasping and writhing around, clutching his hair, ‘Please just get inside me,’ I beg and scramble out from beneath him when he doesn’t play fair, pinning his big broad body to the bed. I grab the condom, open it and roll it on and lick a flat male nipple and drag my nails down the front of his muscular thighs, kiss each mega sexy ab in turn, laughing as his hands clench in my long red hair.

‘Thialo,’ he groans, ‘yes.’

‘Yes?’ I narrow my eyes at him, and take hold of his rigid, glorious length, moving my hand back and forth, ‘Are you sure you’re ready?’

‘Yes!’ His hips jerk and he lunges up and pushes me back on the mattress, and we tangle our limbs together and he plunges into me, my wet heat welcoming him in. He moans as I raise my hips and dig my heels into his delectable bum. ‘Yesss…’ I echo. He’s big and hard and deep, thrusting in and out, scooting me up the bed until my head hits the headboard. I feel like I’ve waited for him forever, even though I’ve only known him for two days. Back arching, I wrap my arms around him, clinging on to his shoulders. ‘Harder,’ I urge, breathless, desperate. ‘Now.’

‘Now?’ His bulging biceps are either side of my head and his sexy hairy chest grazes my nipples, causing delicious friction. He obeys my order, nudging my G-spot with every flex of his hips.

‘Don’t stop,’ I say huskily.

‘I won’t,’ he promises, thrusting in and out, on and on.

And I honestly couldn’t tell you how long it lasts because I’m in oblivion, caught up in an alternate universe. All I know is I see stars, I fly to the moon, I orbit the earth and I’m sure on my journey I discover the glorious moment of the big bang.

Afterwards, once the foggy cloud of jaw-dropping sex has lifted, I tense. I shouldn’t have done that. I
really
shouldn’t have done it. I should tell him to leave now, before any more damage is done. I expect he’ll bolt anyway, giving me that speech about discretion again. So when he rolls onto his back with a satisfied groan, arranges me so I’m splayed across his muscular, naked chest, and tangles our legs together, I’m astonished. And I can’t summon the energy or motivation to make him go.

He strokes a finger along my clammy thigh and the simple action reignites sparks along my skin. I gasp and squirm.

‘You like that?’ he grins.

‘Don’t get cocky,’ I smile up into his face. ‘Two can play at that.’ I wriggle against his hip and he groans.

‘You win,’ his arms tighten around me.

Lust pings my nipples back into hard peaks. Talk about incredible chemistry. I can’t resist any longer, walking my fingers over his abs and counting them. ‘Eight?’ I say. ‘That is just ridiculous. Are you He-Man or something?’

He laughs huskily. ‘I start most mornings with a couple of hundred crunches. And don’t forget I work out at the gym.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you’re like that guy out of
Crazy, Stupid, Love
and can do that
Dirty Dancing
lift.'

‘Crazy, stupid
what
? Are you trying to tell me something?’ he asks playfully. ‘No,’ I retort immediately. ‘I told you, don’t be cocky.’

He kisses my hand and lowers it to rest over his heart and I can feel it beating underneath my palm. Tenderness washes over me. I wish we could stay like this forever.

What? Uh-oh.
No
.

He didn’t leave or give me
the talk
, he’s doing worse. He’s being unbelievably sweet and sexy, and I’m a sucker for both. I shouldn’t read anything into it. He could be like this with every woman he sleeps with. I clamp down on the twist of pain and jealousy robbing me of oxygen. We’ve made no promises to each other, and he doesn't know what I’ve done yet, what I came looking for. He’ll think I was trying to use him, have tricked and betrayed him. The morning’s going to come too soon. It’s not fair to him, but I’m not ready for this night to end yet. I just want to stay in his arms, be with him a little bit longer, know him better. Surely a few more hours can’t hurt. I snuggle in, squeezing his waist.

‘Alex,’ I blurt, ‘what happened?’

He chuckles. ‘I must have done something really wrong if you don’t know. Do you want me to show you again?’

‘No, yes, maybe later, I mean– what happened with Louise?’ I rush out. I’ve picked about the worst moment I could, but I suddenly need to know.

‘You want to talk about this
now
?’

I push away from him, pull a face, ‘Kind of.’

Dragging me down to his chest: ‘It’s my least favourite topic of conversation given she’s the most deceitful, dishonest woman I’ve ever met, but,’ he pauses, ‘all right.’ A massive sigh lifts me up and down with his chest. ‘We met at work. She was my PA.’

‘Oh.’
Shit
. I shiver, dismay shooting right down to my toes as everything becomes clear. His cynicism, his trust issues, his ‘no workplace relationship’ policy. I literally could not be in a worse position.

I’m his PA now.

I’m lying to him.

He’ll think history is repeating itself.

I can’t move, I’m so horrified. So I stay melded to his glorious body.

‘Yes,’ he repeats and adds quietly, ‘I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to get involved. But she was beautiful and has her own particular brand of charm when she feels like it. It only took a few weeks and we were dating, a few months before we were pretty serious.’ His deep voice rumbles in his chest, the vibration reverberating through his naked skin to mine. ‘I proposed. We were happy. It wasn’t until I got her to sign a gagging order and pre-nup things went wrong. My family’s company, the money and our reputation was too much to risk though. I know that she always resented me for it. But it was necessary. I’m glad of it now, after everything that happened.’

‘But maybe the lack of trust caused the marriage to fail?’ I say, unthinking, and his face goes tight, jaw flexing. Wincing, ‘Sorry. That was too honest, and not necessarily the case.’ I kiss the side of his luscious mouth. ‘Sorry,’ I breathe.

His expression softens. ‘Although it didn’t help, I don’t think that’s the reason it didn’t work out.’

‘Really? Was it because of your long work hours, did she feel neglected?’

'I– no. I never really thought about it.' He goes silent for a moment. ‘I suppose at the beginning we saw each other at the office and I must have made more time for her, but  …  She was ecstatic when she gave up work and seemed happy to go and spend my money so … ’ he trails off, staring at the ceiling.

‘Still a lonely life though. You have to spend time together as a couple to make it work; have fun together. Otherwise you can lose sight of each other.’

‘Quite the relationship expert, aren’t you?’

‘Actually no. I’ve never had a serious relationship.’

He shifts under me, tips my chin so he can examine my face. ‘What? How old are you? Twenty-seven? Don’t you believe in them then?’

‘I do. It’s not that.’ I free my chin, rest my cheek back on his chest. ‘I just– my career’s always been important to me and I’ve never met someone I felt strongly enough about to compromise it for.’ I rush on, ‘And mum started trying to marry me off from about the age of twelve. It kind of put me off, especially surrounded by all the die-hards in the village who believe women should stay home as housewives and raise children. Which is fine if that’s what you want, but there should be a choice and a partnership in which both parties are happy.’ I squint up at him. ‘I’m not abnormal though, or anti-men. I’ve dated. A lot. I could be in a functional relationship if I wanted to. Anyway,’ I clear my throat, hearing the defensiveness in my voice, ‘you were saying, about Louise?’

‘Dated, a lot? Right. Uh, Louise, yes. Well, there was something missing, something kind of crucial for a lifetime commitment.’

‘What was that?’

‘She didn’t love me. Not for a minute.’

I lift my head, frowning. ‘Are you sure? Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. Relationships go wrong for all sorts of reasons.’

‘For God’s sake don’t feel sorry for me.’ He sits up and I roll onto the mattress with a yelp, before propping myself on one elbow. I really know how to kill a mood.

He rearranges the pillows behind him and half sits against the headboard. I feel bereft. ‘She loved the lifestyle, what I could give her, who or what she thought I was, but that was it.’ A deep sigh expands his chest. ‘When I said it was over she wasn’t happy. She’s been difficult ever since. No,’ he corrects, ‘impossible. If only we weren’t connected.’

‘You won’t be much longer, though.’ I drag the covers over me. ‘Once the divorce is final, you don’t have to see her again. Unless you’ll run into her socially?’

‘It’s not that.’ He reaches over to the dresser and grabs a glass bottle of mineral water, strong tanned hands unscrewing the top with ease. My gaze flits down his toned body.

‘What then?’ I prompt, sweeping my hair round one shoulder.

He pours a couple of glasses of water and passes me one, avoiding eye contact.

What’s he hiding? ‘You don't want to talk about it,’ I guess.

He eases the covers down to my waist. ‘No. Enough talk about my ex. Let’s have some fun.’

'Fun?’ I feign confusion. ‘You know what that is?’ Before reality intervenes tomorrow, I’m going to enjoy this night and the experience; mind-blowing sex with a complex, charismatic, smoking hot guy who makes me feel amazing.

Growling, he pounces, tipping his water down over my boobs and stomach, making me gasp. ‘How unfortunate, I seem to have spilt my drink,’ he drawls, ‘I must be learning some of your bad habits. I guess I’ll just have to mop it up.’

He proceeds to do so, using nothing but his tongue. At some point, various other body parts get involved and I pour the rest of the bottle into his lap, ‘Oops, clumsy me.’ I take great delight in returning the favour with my mouth until his hands are in my hair and his body is shaking and quaking. ‘I’ve got to get inside you,’ he says huskily and puts on protection and then he is and oh God, oh God, ‘Alex!’ I yell.

‘Are you hungry?’ he whispers later, raising his head from my hip, breath warming my skin.

I look down at him. Maybe I’m not as fantastic in bed as I think he is, if he can even contemplate other needs. I don’t know if I’m hungry, I'm struggling to remember how to inhale. ‘Uh,’ I grunt.

He chuckles, grinning. ‘I am.’

‘Really? Hungry for … ?’

He gets my drift and squeezes my waist in a tickle, making me writhe around on the soft bed.

‘Not that.’ He sits up, rolling his eyes. ‘All you think about is sex, sex, sex, woman. I’m starving. Shall we call for room service?’

‘I thought men were supposed to fall asleep straight afterwards?’ I watch his eyes darken. He looks mean and dangerous and it’s pretty sexy. ‘It was just an observation,’ I defend, edging away, my breasts jiggling.

His hot gaze zooms in on them and a firm hand clamps around the back of my neck, hauling me in for a swift kiss. ‘Maybe I’m not most men. And maybe I’ll fall asleep on you later,’ he adds meaningfully.

‘What, we order food and then I’m dessert?’

He winks. ‘Maybe. Now go and find some menus.’

‘Bossy!’ I climb off the bed hoping the size of my naked backside won't put him off a repeat session, although it’s too late to do anything about it now. He’s already seen everything.

‘Absolutely,’ he mocks, ‘but then, I am the boss.’

I pause in the act of pulling on his shirt.

‘Sorry. That was stupid. What an idiot.’

‘Technically we’re off the clock,’ I say lightly. ‘You’re not my boss after hours.’ Tugging his shirt down to cover the tops of my thighs, I stick my tongue out at him. ‘But I will go and get the menus, because I might be tempted to eat.’

Wandering into the lounge, I grab the room service cards off the side and pause, cheeks burning. Will this get charged to the room? Suppose Alex expects me to buy the meal. I’m not sure there’s enough in my bank account. On the other hand I don’t want to assume he’ll pay because he’s rich. I don’t want him to think I’d make that assumption. People must use him for money all the time and I don’t want him to lump me in the same category as them or his grasping wife. But if I make the offer to go halves can I find a credit card with enough available funds to cover the cost?

I’m overthinking this. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.

Walking back into the bedroom, I find Alex engrossed on his phone, frowning and tapping the screen rapidly. ‘Everything okay?’ I ask.

He gives me a slow sexy smile, ‘It is now,’ he says huskily, before carelessly throwing the phone on the floor. Something in my chest catches at the action. He’s willing to put it down for me. Flinging the covers back, he tugs me closer by the hem of the shirt, ‘I got bored, so I decided to check the markets. You took ages.’

‘A few minutes,’ I counter.

‘It felt like forever.’

‘It did?’

‘Never mind,’ he says, gaze fixed on where my boobs are pressed against the fabric of the top, before dropping to my bare thighs. ‘Come here.’ He pulls on the hem of the shirt again and once I’m on the bed switches his hold to the collar to bring me in for a sweet, unhurried kiss. ‘Better,’ he says, sitting back. ‘Now hand me those menus. I’ve worked up an appetite.’

We lie curled up in bed together later, surrounded by plates scraped clean of aromatic Spanish dishes, both of us full to bursting. The room smells of spices and tender meats and fiery vegetables. I guess when you stay in a suite costing about a grand a night the kitchen never closes. Rain lashes against the windows, running down the glass in random patterns. It’s cosy. I feel content, way more than in a very long time. I can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. There was an uncomfortable moment when Alex insisted on accepting delivery of the meal alone in the lounge, but he was so thoughtful in passing me cutlery and napkins and condiments when we camped out on the bed (a suggestion he pulled a face at until I accused him of being uptight) that I forgave him wanting to be discreet.

Groaning and shifting, I press a hand to my overfed belly. ‘I feel so fat.’

‘Yes, you look it,’ he agrees gravely, getting up and clearing the plates into the lounge.

As he climbs back into bed, I punch his arm playfully, ‘Hey!’

‘Oh, come on,’ he lifts the covers and pretends to leer, ‘you know you’ve got a gorgeous body.’

I’m incredibly, proudly flattered. ‘Right answer,’ I joke. ‘You can have a brownie point.’

His shoulders rise and the movement rubs his wide chest against my side. ‘It’s only the truth. Anyway, you women are too obsessed with how you look.’

My mouth swings open. ‘Maybe that’s because any woman over a size six is considered obese and catwalk models are still skinny. Maybe it’s because according to the media we’re supposed to have impossibly glossy hair and long eyelashes and smooth dewy skin that defies the ageing process. And anyway, isn’t that a bit hypocritical? I bet the women you normally socialise with are all slim.’ Why on earth did I say that?

‘I’d love to say you’re wrong.’

‘But you can’t.’

‘No, I don’t think the majority of them started out tiny though, I think they battle with each other to be the slimmest. They put that pressure on each other. What they don’t realise is men are simple animals. We’re not that bothered about your weight or dress size as long as we get to touch it all, and play with it.’

I smother a laugh as his hand creeps under the covers to squeeze my thigh. ‘You’re right,’ I concede, grinning. He seems thrilled at my surrender, until I add, ‘Men
are
animals.’

‘Well, in that case—’

And just like that I’m flat on my back, pinned down.

‘No, no, I’ll pop, I swear,' I giggle. ‘I can’t.’

‘Okay.’ He frees me.

I roll onto my side and within seconds he’s settled in behind me, lean hips spooning my bum, a large hand resting across my ribs and holding me close. My back is against his toned chest and he presses a kiss to my hair.

‘Night,’ he murmurs.

‘Night.’

This feels so easy. So right. I feel cared for, happy.

Alex gives a deep mutter of satisfaction and is asleep within minutes, but wrapped up in his warm hard body, my hormones and emotions are out of control, bouncing up and down. I lie wide awake for a long time, staring into the darkness. What have I done?