His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance) (10 page)

"If and when I am ready I will." And then her mouth took his in a kiss so deep and so amazingly tender he moaned under the outpouring of emotions that filled him. She eased back and took a big shuddering breath. "It's too soon for this, Olivier."

He knew that and he also knew she was not just talking about her injuries, she was talking about their relationship. But then she teased apart her grasp on his hands, arched her back as her pelvis rocked against his and any control he might have held onto shattered and vanished under a surge of intense pleasure. Now his hands touched her, fingertips whispering over her full and round breasts, skimming across dusky pink nipples down to her navel, over the silky material of her tiny panties as he scraped his knuckles very gently across the area where their bodies merged. She shuddered as a gasp of pleasure escaped from her throat as her hands covered his to stop him going further. Then his mouth feasted on her trembling lips, the place where her pulse was going crazy in her throat, her breasts, and everywhere his mouth touched she gave out a sigh, a tremble, a whimper of pleasure.

"God, Olivier, we need to stop."

His mouth was on her navel and he took a huge shuddering breath before he placed a tender kiss on her flesh and rested his forehead there. He closed his eyes and simply inhaled the scent of a woman. His woman. She was aroused and damp and his need for her was killing him. But as he battled his way back to logic and common sense, he realized that Anastacia had given him a tiny piece of herself this morning. A piece that he'd forever treasure. But she was right, neither of them were ready to take the next step. It was too soon, too early in their relationship. And he couldn't afford such a distraction before the big game.

The European Cup Final.

Shock made him blink.

How the hell could he have forgotten about the game?

He made ready to move, but then...

The doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell, Anastacia decided, torn between a heady relief and a bitter disappointment. It worried her a lot that she was sending him mixed messages, hell she was sending herself mixed messages.

Olivier shifted and lifted her with gentle hands until she was sitting on the bed.

Then he gave her a quick possessive kiss on the mouth, grabbed his T-shirt turned and walked out.

Anastacia was up like a jack-in-the-box, pulled on his white T-shirt and followed him to see who was at the door.

When she heard the voices of Danni and T.C., an evil little smile played around her mouth.

It appeared the cavalry had arrived and just in the nick of time.

She didn't have a moment to take in the awesome sitting room of the penthouse before Danni, wearing skinny white cropped jeans and a mint-green tee and carrying a couple of garment bags, was making a beeline for her.

"Turn right around, Missy. We're gonna run you a bath, do your hair to make you look like a human being and get you dressed."

Anastacia spread her legs, folded her arms and didn't budge.

"Is there a good reason why we can't do all of the above in my place?"

"Oooooh," said T.C. as she turned to Olivier. "We have cranky beeitch. Has she had her morning coffee yet?"

"Nope," said Olivier in a tone that screamed he was a tormented man at the end of his tether.

And that tone was like a soothing ointment on Anastacia's own tortured arousal.

"Then that explains it," said a T.C. apparently totally oblivious to the sexual tension sparking in the atmosphere. "You need to get with the programme, Olivier. Ana Banana without her coffee is not pretty. Plus, she is not, and let me stress the word
not
, good in the morning."

Olivier didn't answer.

Instead he sent a scorching look to Anastacia. A look that made her jerk her chin in response.

A move that made T.C. and Danni give her a very wide berth.

What was his problem?

How was it her fault that her friends had arrived without notice?

"Move," Danni told her and waved her towards the bedroom. After a final look at Olivier, Anastacia permitted her bestie to herd her back into the bedroom, to run her a bath, gently wash and condition her hair and wrap her head in a fluffy white towel.

By the time she was squeaky clean and wearing lightweight yoga pants the color of vanilla ice-cream and a matching vest, Anastacia felt nearly back to normal.

Almost.

"Did you really think we were gonna leave you here all alone with the Italian stallion?" asked Danni as she very gently brushed her hair.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." She might be secretly panting to get Olivier into bed, but she did appreciate it. To prove it to herself as much as to a doubtful looking Danni, Anastacia turned to give her friend a hug. "Who was that on the phone last night, at the restaurant? I couldn't work out if you were upset or scared and you switched off your phone."

Danni rolled her eyes, shook her head.

"You don't miss much, do you? It was Mr. Growler."

Ahh, that explained it.

Mr. Growler, aka Pascale Wolfe, was CEO of the French luxury brand Aqua di Redo, and Danni Pebbles' arch nemesis. He'd been chasing her for almost ten months and thus far his dominant and controlling behaviour had Danni running as fast as her Manolos would carry her in the opposite direction. However, Anastacia found the heat of annoyance burning her best friend's neck and cheeks very interesting.

Very interesting indeed.

Usually, Danni was a sweetheart, a woman who was a lover not a fighter.

Thanks to her parent's appalling behaviour, she hated scenes and she hated dramas.

And thanks to her past, she was very scared of big, over controlling men.

She'd always been nervy around Pascale, although it had to be said that she didn't look particularly nervous at the moment. No. At the moment she looked almost infuriated.

"I get paid to notice. What does he want now?"

"He wants me in Paris, today, to give me an exclusive preview of the new winter collection. I said I was too busy."

Whoa.

Anastacia's eyes went wide as she stared at the belligerent and stubborn look in her friend's hazel eyes.

There was not one style guru or blogger or fashion journalist in the entire world who would even dream of turning down an exclusive from Pascale Wolfe. And the man was indeed like a wolf, all tall and dark with broody grey eyes and growly, hence his moniker thought up by T.C.

"Wow, you're living dangerously."

"No I'm not. I said that my friend had been attacked and she needed me. And for the first time he was actually pleasant, said he hoped you felt better soon. Then he had the cheek to tell me not to worry. Why on earth would I worry about refusing him? Then I received a huge bouquet of flowers this morning and the message said he's thinking of me. I don't want him to
think
of me. I want him to
forget
me."

Anastacia watched her friend's face in the mirror as Danni teased out curls.

"You've gotta give him points for persistence."

Her friend shook her head. "He's the most stubborn, annoying, and egotistical individual I've ever met in my entire life. He's exactly the sort of man I detest, plus he's far too old for me and he thinks he can just snap his fingers and I'll jump to attention. No chance. I've decided that this year I'm giving his Paris show a wide berth."

Anastacia wasn't sure that plan was a good idea, but she kept her mouth shut.

If Danni was truly not going to cover one of the most prestigious couture shows of the year, then the lack of coverage might impact her business. But who was she to interfere in her friend's life?

It wasn't as if her own love life was going smoothly, was it?

Then she frowned and pulled up short her wayward ideas pretty damned fast.

What on earth was she thinking?

She didn't have a love life.

She didn't want a sodding love life.

Because she was so wrapped up in her own abstract thoughts, Anastacia didn't see her friend watching her expression in the mirror very carefully.

Danni's hazel eyes went dark.

"Did he touch you?" she wanted to know.

And Anastacia didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about.

"We kissed and petted. That's it."

Danni hissed out an irritated breath.

"You know, I thought more of Olivier. You're in a weakened state and recovering from a head injury. I figured him for an honourable man."

She couldn't let Olivier take the blame.

"Actually, I was the one who instigated it. And he refused to go further. He is honourable. We agreed it's too soon for us to get all hot and heavy."

Danni's hazel eyes met hers in the mirror and narrowed.

"Trust me, the atmosphere in this place is more than hot and heavy, it's positively scorching with sexual tension. Good job we arrived or God knows what might have happened."

Since never was a truer word spoken, Anastacia decided it might be better to keep quiet.

She should have known that her girls wouldn't abandon her.

"We've brought our favorite romance movies and ice-cream and chocolate. By the time we're finished with him, he'll be glad to see the back of you."

"Thanks. At one point Olivier was seriously pissed off with me about what happened last night."

Danni frowned but she didn't say anything as she carefully teased out Anastacia's damp curls to let them dry naturally.

Again their eyes met in the mirror.

"The thing is, Ana, he feels really bad that you were hurt. We know you can handle yourself, but
he
didn't know that. Nico told me Olivier really panicked when you passed out. He was beside himself. You scared him, babe. The man has got it bad for you. So maybe you could cut him a break?" When Anastacia said nothing, Danni sent her a big smile. "Just a little break?"

"He's fine. We're fine. Everything is cool with us," she said.

And wondered why her heart was beating too fast.

They ate brunch at a table under a vast cream sunshade on the wide balcony of the penthouse.

If Olivier had been expecting the girls to be over-awed at the expensive and exclusive perch they had over the city of London and the river Thames, he was disappointed. They took to it like ducks to water, as if they were well-used to living in exclusive surroundings. It brought home to him that he knew virtually nothing about these women. And virtually nothing about Anastacia in particular.

He wanted to know her better.

He wanted to know everything about her.

He wanted to understand her past, her present.

And he wanted to be a big part of her future.

However, since her friends' arrival, she'd changed. And the way she constantly shied away from him when he went anywhere near her was seriously driving him crazy. Anastacia Morgan was stubborn and wilful and absolutely wondrous. He was falling for her and he was falling fast. And not once did a little voice whisper that he might be heading for a broken heart by chasing a woman who was constantly telling him she wasn't interested. But Olivier didn't believe her. When they'd shared hot kisses on her bed their sexual chemistry was off the charts. One kiss, just one kiss had given him a taste of her. The way she'd responded to that kiss, as if she couldn't help herself, made him go rock hard. He breathed through the sting in his shaft and admitted that he wanted a hell of a lot more than just a kiss. Once or twice he'd wondered if she was playing hard to get, but he didn't believe she was the type. Something was holding her back from giving him a chance and Olivier was determined to find out why.

The arrival of Fabio and Chris armed with flowers and wine and chocolates for the invalid didn't brighten his dark mood either. It wasn't that he minded the penthouse being filled with his friends and her friends, their friends, but he'd desperately wanted to have Anastacia to himself. He wanted to talk to her, to make her see that they'd be good together. To make her see sense. With everyone here, he knew he wouldn't get two minutes alone with her.

Now, as he watched her relax and blossom under the genuine warmth and humour of their friends, he wondered if it was just as well that he wasn't alone with her. Because he knew that he'd be fighting a losing battle to keep his hands to himself.

Now common sense belatedly raised its head.

Maybe he was moving too fast.

Maybe it was better if they had a buffer between them at the moment, because every time he looked at her bruised and battered face he wanted to howl at the moon. It killed him to see her hurt like this and being so fucking brave and good-natured about it. Right now his feelings were too raw, too exposed. When he'd seen the huge man move to attack her last night, his heart had leaped into his mouth in a way that made him feel sick to his stomach.

He'd never seen a man hit a woman.