Mr. Insatiable (8 page)

Wasn’t that why he’d suggested it? Okay, he hadn’t been completely self-sacrificing–she’d looked incredibly hot in her sexy dress and he was happy to admit he’d wanted to get her into bed. But he
had
also wanted to help her. She’d looked so sad when she told him how she thought she was ‘broken.’ But at least he’d managed to prove to her that, providing she hooked up with a guy she loved and felt comfortable with, she was going to have no problem gaining satisfaction in bed.

He turned to look at her, his gaze following the line of her slim, white neck and the place behind her ear he now knew she liked to be kissed. She’d pleased
him,
anyway. Apart from the moment when he’d sensed her hesitation undressing her, she’d shown no sign of being nervous or reserved. In fact, quite the opposite–she’d given herself to him with complete abandon, driving him crazy with her sighs and moans and the way she’d stretched out beneath him, all inhibitions gone. He grew hard now thinking about it, and he sighed, moving back from her so he could stuff the duvet between them. He’d learned from experience that being nudged with a broom handle in the back was
not
the way most girls liked to be woken up.

He’d never doubted she’d be a firecracker in bed. The red hair was too much of a giveaway. And he’d been convinced that if he got her into bed, they’d be dynamite. For the first time, however, he wondered what he’d have done if he’d made love to her and she’d been unresponsive, too nervous to open up to him.

Jeez, my ego’s the size of Australia.

Why had he thought he would be the one who could magic away her self-consciousness?

And yet he had. The copious amounts of alcohol probably had something to do with it. But he knew that wasn’t the whole story. Something that had lain sleeping for eleven years had awoken when they kissed on the hotel balcony, like a dormant volcano that had erupted, showering them with its intense heat. They hadn’t just had sex. That would be bad enough. They’d had
great
sex. And that was terrible.

Terrible because now they were going to have to cope with the morning after–and what was he going to say to her? How was she going to react to him when she woke up? Would she be embarrassed at her inhibition and abandon? Would she feel as if he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability, and be angry with him? Would she tell anyone? Lisette, Tristan?

Oh God, Tristan.

Kit nearly groaned aloud again. Tris would kill Kit if he found out what Kit had done to his little sister. So would Patrick O’Donnell. And so would his own father. He was going to have a posse come after him if word got out.

Next to him, Enya shifted in the bed, and his heart thumped when she stirred, lifted her head and looked at the clock, and then turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

She studied him for a moment, blinking as if she’d wondered for a second if she was dreaming, and then she turned over onto her left side to face him. She looked rumpled and gorgeous with her mussed red hair, and she surveyed him seriously for a moment.

Don’t hate me, was his first thought, surprising him.

She raised her head, propping it on a hand, and smiled impishly. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” He smiled back, propping himself up in the same pose, relief washing over him. “How are you feeling?”

“Muzzy. I have a headache. But I feel...good.”

“I’m glad.” His relief must have shown on his face, because she laughed.

“Were you worried I’d panic this morning?”

“Kinda. Or hate me.”

A frown marred her brow then. “Hate you?”

“Well, you know. Because I took advantage of you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have kicked himself–what a thing to say to a woman who’d been sexually assaulted.

But Enya just laughed. “Took advantage of me? I don’t think so. Sweetheart, I was totally up for it.”

“But you
were
drunk,” he pointed out.

“So were you.” She seemed to be enjoying teasing him. “Did you consider that I might be worried
I’d
taken advantage of
you
?”

His lips curved then. “No.”

She reached out and touched his cheek. “Do you regret it?”

He had a sudden, vivid image of her stretching back on the table, languid and drowsily erotic, sighing as he plunged into her and stroked her breasts. “Not bloody likely.”

She laughed and caressed the stubble on his cheek with her thumb.

“Do
you
regret it?” he asked.

Her eyes met his. They were soft and gentle, but as he stared into them, they lit with a spark of desire.

“No,” she whispered. She dropped her hand, but continued to smile at him warmly. “How could I? Thank you so much. It was…mind-blowing.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “God, you’re welcome, sweetheart. And thank you, too.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Was...was I any good?”

He thought about how she’d wrapped her legs tightly around him and encouraged him to go deeper, tipping her head back and offering her breasts to his mouth. “Er...you could say that.” He smiled. “You were fantastic.”

Relief spread over her face. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He studied her thoughtfully. A surge of naughtiness spread through him as she shifted, pulling the duvet to her and propping up her bust in the process, giving him a great view down her cleavage.

I shouldn’t
.

She lifted a hand to run it through her hair, exposing the soft, pale underside of her arm and the swell of her breast, and he sighed.

Fuck it. You only live once.

“Your lips look dry,” he said.

She blinked. “Huh?”

He leaned across her and picked up the small handbag she’d left on the side. Bringing it between them, he popped it open and ferreted around for her lip salve. Bringing it out, he pulled off the cap and twisted the stick up.

Enya’s eyes widened, but she chuckled as he applied the salve to her lips, both of them laughing as he struggled to keep it within the edges. When he’d made sure they were completely covered, he clipped the lid back on, replaced it in her bag and put it back on the table. Then he settled himself back next to her.

“What was that for?” She pressed her lips together the way women do, smearing the lip balm across them, and his heart thumped.

He didn’t say anything. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and touched his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the lip salve that gave him an immediate hard-on. He tasted cherry as he kissed her, moving his lips across hers slowly, enjoying the soft, waxy, slight stickiness of her mouth beneath his. For a moment, he wondered if she’d pull back and tell him that last night was one thing but this morning was something else, and he shouldn’t assume she’d be interested again. But instead, she parted her lips, and when he brushed his tongue into her mouth, she gave a soft sigh of approval, resting her palm on his chest as her tongue joined his in the slow kiss. He brought up a hand to cup her head, deepening the kiss, passion surging through him. She slipped her arms around his waist, and he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. He filled his hands with her breasts and groaned as she opened her legs and let his eager erection press between them.

When someone knocked on the door, they both froze, locked in the kiss, but then they heard Tristan’s voice yell through the door, “Are you up yet?” and they pulled apart in horror.

Chapter

7

Enya sat up, tempted to thump the pillow with frustration.

Kit got up so quickly he tangled in the duvet and fell off the side of the bed. Trying to stifle her laughter, she gathered up his clothes from the floor, wincing as she put her weight on her sore ankle, and then stuffed them in his arms as he came around to collect them.

“Go in the bathroom,” she whispered, sobering as she saw the alarm on his face. He didn’t think this was funny–he was worried about what Tristan would say if he found out Kit had spent the night.

“Just a minute,” she yelled when her brother pounded on the door again. She pulled on the large T-shirt she’d left beside the bed to sleep in, but never got around to wearing. Kit disappeared into the bathroom, pulling the door almost closed, and she hopped over to the door, giving one quick glance around the room to make sure there were no obvious signs of his presence.

Opening the door, she glared at her brother. “Stop banging. You’ll wake up the whole floor.”

“What were you doing? You took ages to answer the door.”

She indicated her ankle. “I can’t walk on it.”

Sighing, he looked her up and down. “Breakfast is in thirty minutes. You’d better get a move on.”

“I will if you stop hassling me.”

He glanced behind her, checking out the room. “You know where Kit is?”

Her heart thumped, but she made herself look puzzled. “Kit? I’ve no idea, why? Isn’t he in his room?”

“No. Or if he is, he’s dead to the world. I’ve rung him
and
banged on the door.”

“Well, he’s not here,” she said irritably. “I’ve just got up. Why would he be in my room?”

He gave her an exasperated look. “I thought he might have popped in for a chat. Jeez, someone got out the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

She ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry. My ankle’s throbbing, and I haven’t got long to get ready.”

“All right.” He nodded at the room. “What happened there?”

She followed his gaze, cursing beneath her breath as she saw the items that had previously resided on the table scattered over the floor, and remembered Kit sweeping them off before he’d lifted her onto the surface. “Ah, I knocked into it last night, what with the ankle and the wine, you know? Haven’t tidied up yet.”

Tristan sighed. “You’re so clumsy. Look, if you do see Kit, tell him I’m looking for him, eh?”

“Yes, Tristan, if I come across him in my shower, I’ll tell him you need him.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Yeah.” She watched him walk down the corridor, and then called out, “Tris?”

He turned around, walking backward. “What?”

“How does it feel to be an old married man?”

“Fantastic. Shags on demand. Better than cable.”

She laughed, and he grinned and disappeared around the corner.

She went back into the room and shut the door. “He’s gone,” she called out.

Kit came out of the bathroom, now dressed in his suit, looking ruffled and sheepish. “Did he suspect anything?”

“I don’t think so. But he’s looking for you–you’d better be careful when you go.”

He studied her and ran a hand through his hair. “Enya–”

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Go on.Go back to your room and get changed. You’ll have to come up with an excuse as to why you weren’t in your room, though.”

“Yeah.” He walked up to her and paused. “I’m not ashamed of what we did.”

She laughed. “I know. But we don’t want everyone knowing, do we? It’s our business. Nothing to do with anyone else.”

His eyes softened. “You’re a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He moved toward the door and then hesitated. “We’re okay, aren’t we?”

She frowned. “Of course.”

“I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

She smiled then. “Oh come here, you big softy.” She moved closer and slid her arms around him and hugged him. “We’ll always be friends, Kit Fawkes. Forever and ever.”

“Amen.” He gave her a squeeze before letting her go. “So we’re okay for China?”

She stared up at him, blinking as she remembered the trip they’d organized for next week. Kit’s friend had family in Beijing, and he wanted to introduce Kit to a couple of firework factories over there. Kit and Tristan had booked a couple of tickets ages ago, not realizing at the time that Lisette was going to want to get married super quick. Kit had talked Enya into going with him, promising to take her to a real Chinese tea-tasting session. She’d thought it would be fun–it wasn’t the first time they’d travelled together. Now, her heart thumped at the thought of being in such close contact with him for four days, but she pushed her worry away and gave him a bright smile.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to it. Now go and get changed before Tris comes back.”

“Okay.” He let her open the door and peer out to make sure the coast was clear, and then he slipped out. “See you at breakfast?”

“Yeah.”

His blue eyes met hers and her heart raced. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but in the end, he just smiled.

“Are you going to be okay getting ready with that ankle?”

“I don’t need help in the shower, if that’s what you’re implying, Kit Fawkes.”

He grinned. “See you later.” He walked off along the corridor, giving her one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner.