Melting Ms Frost (17 page)

He did no such thing. Simply walking past where she’d glued herself to the entrance wall, he crossed the room to push the heavy silk curtains back from their half-opened position so that the diffused sunlight shining through the panel of white muslin fell across the bed.

He turned back to face her. ‘Come here to me, Annabel.’ That voice, soft, almost sensuous with that lyrical lilt, coaxed her to listen, to comply. And lord help her she did, under the weight of that penetrating grey gaze she went to him.

‘Sit on the end of the bed,’ he said when she reached him.

Was she really going to do this? Apparently so. She sat, finding herself spotlighted by the sunlight while he turned to the desk behind him and pulled out the high-backed chair tucked under it. Positioning it back to front a foot from where she sat, he straddled it, leaning on his folded arms and stretching his long legs out to bracket hers.

He looked at her for long time, letting his eyes drift leisurely over her body. Eventually they met hers and held her gaze until she felt like she wanted to squirm.

‘Put your things down beside you,’ he said, and she noticed that she was hugging her coat and bag in her lap. She placed them on the mattress and looked back at him.

‘Good. Now lift your skirt,’ he said in same soft voice, a little husky around the edges, that silvery gaze drawing her in, sucking at her will.

She cast around frantically for a distraction but there was still no way out. Not a crack in the ceiling to indicate it would imminently cave in, nor a hole in the floor through which she could conveniently fall. There was just her and Aidan Flynn, filling the stylish greige-hued room with the palpable force of sexual tension.

Holding the hem, she swallowed, and edged the soft wool up over her knees. He didn’t break eye contact until she rested her hands again on her thighs. Then his gaze flicked down to her bare legs and back up again.

‘Higher.’

Sunlight continued to stream through the muslin, throwing every bit of her into high relief, the distinct lack of any portentous darkening telling her there was no sudden hurricane due to strike. She really was on her own. And she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She took the hem an inch or so further up her thighs, determined to play for every second of time she could.

Adain raised an eyebrow. Waited. The fact that she was purposely keeping him waiting, denying him his desire, sent a thrill of power through her. Power, and a rush of her own desire that had her slowly dragging the hem to mid-thigh.

‘Keep going,
a mhuirnín
,’ he said, but his gaze stayed locked on hers, her legs seemingly forgotten. She tested the theory, daring to expose a good five inches in one swoop.

Sure enough, his eyes stayed on hers. ‘Higher, Annabel.’ His lips quirked. ‘All the way up to your waist.’

It was impossible not to respond to the challenge in his eyes, that smile that said he didn’t think she’d be able to do it.

And there was no point in pretending any longer that she didn’t want to rise to that challenge. That she wasn’t well and truly caught in this trap of her own making.

Barely able to breathe she took it up to her waist. He held eye contact for a long moment then finally dropped his gaze. She clenched her thighs tighter together.

When he spoke, his voice was even huskier. ‘I had a dream very similar to this the other night. Do you want to know what happened next, Annabel?’ His gaze met hers again and the weight of it slammed into her chest. No one had ever looked at her that way before, with such naked …
hunger
. ‘You spread your lovely legs for me.’ Despite that calm control of his, she could see that he was beginning to breathe a little harder himself. ‘Do it for me now,
a mhuirnín
.’

Should she? Could she? It had become too hard to think.

‘Annabel?’

‘Please …’

‘Please what?’

She shook her head, unable to catch her thoughts and form them into sentences.

‘Please stop?’

Yes! The word was a shout in her head, but she couldn’t get a sound to pass her dry lips.

‘Please more?’

No! This shout was equally loud, but remained equally silent. She had to close her eyes in case he read the truth in them.

‘Is that what you’re asking for – for me to touch you? Is that what you want?’

More than anything and not at all. She’d shatter into a million pieces and lose herself if he did and would surely self-combust if he didn’t. And she could no longer tell with certainty which one of those outcomes would be worse. Could no longer tell where the game ended and reality began.

‘I want that too,’ he went on as though she’d answered in the affirmative, his voice sounding tight, rough. She heard the slight rustle of movement, nearly moaned in relief when she opened her eyes again to see him reach one hand towards her. He plucked a red curl a little away from where it lay against the bodice of her dress and rubbed it between his forefinger and thumb. Annabel was mesmerised by the slow, sensual caress taking place mere inches from the curve of her breast. Her nipples tightened as she imagined the same careful touch there.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. She was going to fall, to give in, hand him the control he wanted …

‘But I can’t,’ he said.

What?
Her gaze sprang up to his and she stared at him. He was tense, from the muscle twitching at the side of his clenched jaw, to the stiff set of his shoulders. He didn’t look any happier about his pronouncement than she did.

‘I won’t break a promise,’ he said simply, dropping the curl. ‘I can’t touch you yet,
a mhuirnín
. Not until you’re ready. But you can touch yourself. Why don’t you do it?’

Her head spun with shock. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘B—because I won’t,’ she blustered.

‘That’s not a reason.’

The thought of doing something so intimate in front of him was outrageous. ‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can. Your hand is right there on your thigh. So close. Just slide it a little to the left and down.’ His words were soft and slow, that melodic brogue mesmerising.

She shook her head. It was too much. Wasn’t it? Were they really
her
fingers she could feel twitching with the need to move?

‘Do it, Annabel. You’re wound so tight, you know how sweet the release will feel.’ That lovely lilting voice dropped into a soft rasp. ‘Show me. I want to look and learn so that when it’s my turn to touch you, I’ll know how to do it right.’

She had to stifle a moan. ‘I can’t,’ she gasped again, knowing she was a hair’s breadth away from throwing caution to the wind and doing it.

‘Touch yourself the way you’d like me to touch you. Imagine that it’s my fingers on you, in you – thicker, longer, the skin rougher. Imagine how they’ll feel.’

That pale gaze turned penetrating. The gentle coaxing was gone. In its place was that demanding tone – the one that reached inside and spoke directly to that carefully hidden spot that wanted nothing more than to listen and obey. Surrender. The one that terrified her because it had the power to make her do just that. With a jolt she realised she was doing it again, letting herself fall under his thrall. She’d let herself forget that this wasn’t about sharing pleasure. Aidan Flynn wanted to take things she wasn’t prepared to give. This was a game of power to him. The reminder doused the heat of her passion as effectively as a bucket of cold water over the head.

‘I said, I can’t,’ she reiterated with much more resolve, pulling her skirt back down and covering herself.

‘You can. I can see how much you want to.’

Because she’d just made it more than obvious to him. Fool that she was.

‘That doesn’t mean I can, or will,’ she snapped, gathering her belongings and pushing to her feet so she could make a long overdue dash for the door. ‘Forget it. Forget these games. This was a mistake.’

She hadn’t even made it two steps before Aidan was also on his feet, apparently reading her intent and blocking her way to the entrance passage.

‘Get out of my way,’ she demanded.

‘No. No more running, Annabel. And I agree with you, no more games either. Stand and face this.’

She was about to tell him where to go when he said, ‘Tell me what it will take.’

‘Take?’

‘Yes. I want you, and I’m not going to stop until I have you. So tell me, what will it take to get us to that place before we both go mad from frustrated desire?’

She looked at him, noticing that he had that coolly implacable look that meant he wasn’t going to budge until they’d slogged this out. It was his absolute delight to toy with her like this, she was sure.

‘How about you leaving me alone? That’d work perfectly for me.’

He gave her a one-sided smile. ‘Now it’s my turn to say I can’t. Or won’t.’

Unfortunately, he’d given her every reason to believe him. She could see this torment stretching on forever. The thought exhausted her. ‘Please, just let me go.’

‘No. Stop evading and answer the question.’

Why could he never leave enough alone – just accept a no instead of this relentless digging, this pitiless pursuit?

‘And Annabel.’ He stepped close and gave her such a stark look that her breath caught. ‘Do us both a favour and be honest. Please?’

With him looming large, she noticed that it wasn’t just his eyes that gave away his feelings. There was so much tension in the way he held himself, she knew that under the deceptively calm surface he was fighting hard against whatever strong currents were swirling inside. Self-controlled as always. She looked back in his eyes and found she had no defence against the naked need in that gaze. She swallowed, allowed the truth to come out, albeit in a tiny voice.

‘Honestly? I need you to back off. You’re too much, too intense. I can’t think straight around you.’

He was quiet for a long time, studying every inch of her expression, standing solidly between her and escape. There was no way through him, or around him so she waited, braced for the inevitable refusal. But he surprised her.

‘I can step back, slow down, if that’s what you want,’ he said, although the words sounded strained, missing their usual mellifluous ring. ‘On the condition that we have no more charades, no more pretence.’

It was a compromise that cost him a lot of effort.

‘But that’s all I can offer you, Annabel,’ he said, the edge of his voice rough with restrained passion. ‘I won’t stop until I have you. I can’t.’

Those last words should have sent her heart plummeting, but Annabel was aware that she felt weirdly reassured by them instead. She nodded and tried to walk around him.

‘No.’ He stopped her. ‘For once, I’ll do the running. I have to get to work anyway. You stay and take the time to get yourself together.’ With a lingering look and a pained smile that appeared even more crooked than usual, he turned and left.

Annabel continued to stare at the door long after it had closed behind him, knowing that she was in big trouble. God damn him. Every time Aidan Flynn crossed the line, he somehow managed to step right back over it and redeem himself in some surprising way. And the more of this reasonable side he showed, the more dangerous he became.

As weeks went, Aidan was convinced the one he was trapped in was the longest in history. He’d agreed to slow things down with Annabel, but having to apply prolonged pressure to the brakes was taking its toll. He was surprised no one had complained about the smell of his burning self-control. The memory of how Annabel Frost looked in that hotel room, turning his dream into a reality, was both a blessing and a curse. So precious yet so torturous as the days dragged past.

He did everything he could think of to distract himself lest he be tempted to give into the urge to bombard Annabel. His apartment was beyond spotless, his sock drawer ordered to within an inch of its life. His bike had been tuned until it purred like a kitten, and the gleam on the chrome work could only be safely viewed through a pair of dark glasses. All his bills were paid and his bank statements balanced. He’d completed his Christmas shopping and even remembered to buy a present for his sister’s first baby – who wasn’t due to be born for another month. He tried not to think about how long he’d have to keep this up; at this rate he’d have to start on next Christmas as well.

Oh how the mighty have fallen, he taunted himself, remembering back to his cocky assertion of how much fun it would be having Ms Frost naked and begging at his feet. He was the one currently on his knees. Fun sure felt like frustration to him.

If he had any sense, he’d drop the whole idea of this pursuit, save himself the pain, move on. But he’d already proved that he was lacking in the sense department by starting this in the first place. And he doubted he could stop now if he tried. Nothing seemed as important as winning over Annabel Frost’s trust so he could finally get his hands on her, show her the depths of his passion for her. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was becoming his obsession.

Tim found him one afternoon when he had all the fridges empty and was vigorously washing down the insides.

‘You all right, mate?’ the Australian asked with a troubled look.

‘Fine. Why?’

‘You did those the other day.’

‘Did I?’ Aidan shrugged.

Tim’s look deepened to one that made it obvious he thought Aidan had lost the plot. ‘Donna tells me it’s your birthday this weekend?’ he said.

Aidan was taken aback for a moment, surprised that Donna seemed to know something he’d nearly forgotten about himself, before recalling that she’d asked for his birth date so she could read him his horoscope from one of her gossip magazines. ‘On Saturday. Yes.’

‘You got any plans?’

‘Not for the day.’

‘Good. I’ll see who’s up for a celebratory bevvy after work on Saturday then?’

‘Great. Will we be heading for the Louche Lounge?’

‘Why not? You know how hard it is to find a place with decent bar service in this town.’ Tim gave him a wink and walked off.

Later during service he came up to the bar to give an order of drinks and to say that everyone was on for Saturday night.