Irrepressible You (18 page)

‘I’m being terribly rude, aren’t I?’ he murmured with a self-deprecating smile against her lips.

‘Yep. Although I gotta say I’m feeling a bit flattered by the attention. Can you take this?’ Amy pulled out of his grip and pointed to a large wicker basket covered with a red gingham tea towel resting at her feet. ‘You’ve got an oven that works, I hope?’

‘Last time I checked. Mind you, I’ve rarely used it.’ Ben hefted the basket. ‘What’s in here? A couple of bricks and a bowling ball?’

‘It’s a surprise.’

‘A good one, I hope. I’m terribly fragile.’

‘You poor flower.’

‘It’s a trial.’ He led the way into the kitchen and watched with amusement as she rubbed her hands together, surveying her surrounds with obvious glee. Her perky platinum ponytail swung jauntily as she kneeled to peer into the oven.

‘This looks brand-new. Do you ever cook at all?’ She stood and ran a finger over the immaculate stainless-steel stovetop.

‘Never,’ Ben said with relish. He lifted the towel off the basket and whistled at the array of fresh herbs and loose vegetables surrounding something that looked like lamb marinating in a Tupperware container with a cherry-red lid. Lurking off to one side was a large blue and white striped tin.

‘Don’t even think of opening that,’ Amy warned, walking over and nudging him out of the way with her hip before beginning to unpack the goodies.

Curiosity roused, Ben reached over her shoulder and lifted out the item in question. It was heavy. ‘What’s the penalty if I do?’

‘You’ll get sent to your room.’

‘Oh well. If you insist.’ Ben reached for the lid.

‘Without me.’

He heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘Do I at least get a proper kiss now?’

‘Oh.’ Amy’s drill sergeant demeanour melted. ‘Sorry.’ She turned and closed the space between them until they were only an inch apart. Damn but she smelled good. He decided dinner could wait.

‘You know, I never did get to see you wearing my present the other day,’ he said huskily, leaning down to lick at a delectably soft bottom lip. He’d been imagining her in that slinky scrap of lace every night since he’d bought it.

‘No?’ Amy breathed, leaning into him until her breasts pressed against his chest.

‘No.’

‘Hmm. Well, I did bring it. It’s in my bag.’

His eyes widened. ‘You did?’

‘Yup.’ She ran her hands down the sides of her thighs; it was an unconscious gesture that drew Ben’s attention to the curves he’d like to be touching in the very near future.

‘Do I get to see?’ Ben reached out and gently grasped her hands in his, bringing them to rest on his chest, where they felt right.

Her eyes twinkled. ‘You want me to put it on?’

Ben schooled his features into a serious expression. ‘Only if you want to. If you
really
insist, we can just hang it on the wall and I can
imagine
you wearing it. However, I may have to see you naked for my imagination to truly do it justice.’

‘You’d have to be naked too.’ Amy smoothed her hands from Ben’s chest down to his stomach.

‘It would be a trial, but I think I could manage it. From memory we didn’t get around to a few things last time. Terribly remiss of me.’ He leaned forward, rubbing his stubble over Amy’s baby-soft cheek as he whispered in her ear. ‘This time I get to make you come.’

‘What?’ Her breath hitched as he caught the hem of her jumper in his fingertips.

‘Lift up your arms, sweetheart.’ After a moment’s hesitation, Amy raised her arms and he unbuckled the belt at her waist, then swept the jumper over her head, revealing charming little breasts lovingly hugged by a buttercup-yellow bra.

‘That’s better.’ He raised his hands to further extend his appreciation but Amy took a step back, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

‘Turn about’s fair play. Strip.’

‘If I must,’ he sighed. His pullover hit the floor within seconds, along with the grey T-shirt he’d bean wearing underneath it, leaving him in a pair of low-slung jeans. ‘Now where were we?’ He hooked a finger in the waistband of her trousers. ‘You know . . . I think these can go too.’

The flush that spread from Amy’s chest to her cheeks was utterly adorable, as was the way she pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘You first.’

‘Oh no. I remember where that got me the last time you were here.’

‘I liked where it got you.’ Amy ran her eyes down his torso with obvious appreciation until they rested on the fly of his now rather uncomfortable jeans.

‘No. I’m afraid I insist.’ Ben undid the top button on her pants, then took his time pulling down the zip. He smiled widely at the sight of more yellow lace, slowly running his thumb over the petal-soft skin just below her navel. Her trousers slipped off her hips and pooled at her feet.

Amy’s breath hitched. ‘I can’t draw this out, Ben.’

‘Neither can I. Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart,’ he commanded, drawing her hips against his and hiking her up his body. They shared a charged moment, revelling in the contact, before Ben swiftly walked to the sofa by the window and collapsed backwards with a groan as Amy straddled him. She trailed a string of warm kisses along his jaw, then sweetly fitted her mouth over his, promptly stealing his sanity.

‘You know,’ he said, coming up for air, hands flexing on her hips, ‘I believe I was supposed to turn the tables on you this time.’

‘You talk too much,’ Amy moaned.

‘You wear too many clothes,’ Ben countered against her lips. ‘Take them off.’

‘Hmm?’ Amy’s fingers flicked over his nipples and he groaned.

‘Now.’

‘Alright.’ Amy reluctantly slid off his lap to stand between his splayed knees. Her eyes met his as she first unclasped her bra, letting it drop to the floor before skimming those ray-of-sunshine panties down her thighs, kicking them off with a flourish and a grin.

‘Leave the shoes on,’ Ben purred as his eyes licked over lush little coral-tipped breasts, the adorable curve of her stomach, then lower. He opened his mouth to say more but Amy chose that minute to slide back onto his lap and the words flew away, along with what little was left of his sanity.

Without preliminaries, he pounced.

‘Ben!’ she shrieked when he drew one nipple deep into his mouth, sucking, biting, thoroughly enjoying the texture of her, the taste of her and the way she was squirming against him.

‘Hmm?’ He moved to the other breast, worshipping it with just as much fervour.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I thought it was obvious. Quality control,’ he murmured against a tightly pebbled nipple. ‘Have to check they
both
taste like apples and bubblegum.’ He delighted in the way she writhed on top of him, pushing her naked warmth against the fly of his jeans until he suspected he was going to embarrass himself right then and there.

Raising his head, he looked up into her eyes just as he moved a questing hand to that delightful little patch of curls hiding his own personal nirvana. Her moans and the dampness that met his fingertips were the source of instant gratification. ‘Nice to know I’m wanted.’

‘You really do talk too much.’ Amy reached down between them and fumbled with his fly. Seconds later her hand was wrapped around him, drawing him out of his jeans. A moment after that, all rational thought left him as she hiked herself up, braced her hands on his shoulders and, without preamble sank down, hot, wet, tightness engulfing him.

‘
Christ
,’ Ben groaned as his head fell backwards. Grasping Amy’s backside with two hands, he braced his bare feet on the floor and raised her up, seeing white flashing light behind his eyelids as she sank back down with a slow undulation of her hips. She repeated the movement and Ben tightened his grip, losing himself in the wet glide and the sexy little whimpers she made each time she took his full length.

He allowed the torture to go on for as long as he could handle it, then moved his hands to cover her breasts, pinching her nipples hard enough for her movements to turn erratic as she ground against him, moving faster, slamming down on him harder.

Breath rasping, his control slipping, Ben reached down between them, placing a finger directly over her clitoris.

Amy wailed and tried to twist out of his reach, but he leaned forward and gently bit her shoulder, gripping her hip with his free hand just hard enough to let her know he meant business.

‘Not this time, sweetheart. Faster.’ He bumped his hips against hers, burying himself deep again and again. She tightened around him, fighting it until the last second then threw her head back, making keening cries, hips moving jerkily. He felt, rather than heard, her orgasm slam into her as she screamed, going wild in his arms, clenching down on his cock, shoving him into the abyss.

Feeling an unbelievable sense of accomplishment, Ben gave in to his own release, shouting triumphantly, his entire body wracked with pleasure.

He was still smiling smugly minutes later when Amy pushed herself away from his damp, sweaty chest.

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said in a kittenish, accusatory tone.

‘Oh, I am.’ Ben’s expression was positively smug. ‘This is where you tell me you enjoyed yourself.’

Amy narrowed her eyes and then yawned massively, pink tongue curling. ‘Awful. I had an awful time.’

‘So I noticed. About the time you were screaming my name.’ He tenderly smoothed her hair away from her eyes. ‘You were beautiful, you know.’

‘Oh damn.’ Amy’s eyes watered up as she looked at him accusingly. ‘I was doing well until now and then you had to say something like that.’

‘Oh damn.’ Ben pulled her back against his bare chest, loving the feel of her soft little body pressed against his, the feel of still being inside her. ‘Is there some Australian etiquette I missed? Should I have insulted you?’

‘Yes. No.’ Amy burrowed her face against his neck. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Ben rubbed his cheek against her hair. ‘Although I’d like to know what you’re thanking me for.’

‘You know.’

‘No, I don’t. I’m completely ignorant.’

‘The thingy.’

‘Thingy?’

‘You made me thingy.’

‘I did nothing of the sort. I believe I helped you come spectacularly but I
never
made you
thingy
. Sounds positively obscene.’ Ben laughed when Amy began giggling.

She snuggling closer against him before tensing, rearing backwards in a sudden movement, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘Oh bugger.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘We didn’t use anything.’

Ben stifled a groan.

‘You don’t have any nasty bugs or diseases do you?’

‘Bit late to ask that now, sweetheart.’ Ben internally berated himself for his colossal stupidity but kept his tone light. ‘I should have known you wouldn’t have been able to resist me.’ His expression turned serious. ‘I’m all clear. Not that you should trust the word of a man who makes things up for a living.’

‘So am I.’ Amy’s brow scrunched with a frown. ‘I don’t think we have anything to worry about. My period’s due tomorrow.’

Ben nodded, mind whirring on the possibility of having just created a life before he shut the thought down. Best to wait and see. ‘You
will
tell me if there’s anything I need to know.’ He searched her eyes for any resistance.

‘Definitely.’ She nodded, biting her lower lip.

‘Alright, then. Spilt milk and all that,’ he sighed. ‘How about I take you upstairs, douse you under a nice hot shower, rub my hands all over your body then conduct an encore of my recent lauded performance, this time with protection, before we have dinner?’

Amy didn’t give him a verbal reply. Instead, she hiked herself off his lap, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. Ben followed along behind, grinning from ear to ear, admiring her naked form in sunshine-yellow heels.

Chapter 9

Amy pulled a terracotta baking dish containing lamb and roast vegetables out of the oven and turned to find Ben leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching her with a heavy-lidded half-smile. She returned it, knowing she really should take him down a peg or two but feeling too good to bother.

Her legs still felt a little shaky. That was no surprise considering she’d managed a few poses in the past hour or so that would put a yogi to shame. Come to think of it, they put her to shame. To distract herself from that particular line of thought, she turned her attention to the food. She prodded the lamb with a fork and satisfied herself that it was done. ‘Where are we eating?’

‘Why don’t we eat here?’ Ben gestured to the island and the bar stools next to it.

Amy’s look should have singed his socks.

He raised a black brow. ‘Or maybe I could set the absurdly large dining room table.’

‘Don’t forget the napkins,’ Amy said primly. ‘And where are your plates?’

‘Ah.’ Ben eyed the kitchen cupboards as if they were uncharted territory. ‘May I assume you’re looking for nice ones, not the usual everyday dross?’

‘Preferably the nice ones. Knives and forks would be good too.’

Ben sighed theatrically.

‘And glasses. Do you have any wine? A red would work.’ Amy pulled the baguette she’d been warming out of the oven and deftly sliced it into rounds before arranging it on a white oval serving platter she’d found lurking in an otherwise completely empty cupboard.

‘Oh, and something to put this on. A trivet if you’ve got one.’ She gestured to the lamb with a nod while breaking off a twig of rosemary and placing it on top for decoration. Maybe some rosemary butter for the bread . . . She was about to ask Ben what he thought of the idea, but the sight of him looking so lost in the middle of his own kitchen was too much and she ended up laughing instead. ‘You know, I think I’d have more luck if I went looking for everything myself.’

Ben scowled. ‘Hush. I’m strategising. Colin arranged for someone to stock the cupboards with the usual stuff every week and I haven’t learned where everything is yet.’

‘You’ve been here for months!’ She took pity on him and pulled out knives, forks and glasses from where she’d spotted them earlier.