Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2 (15 page)

Thinking of Charlie made her wonder how he was doing with Faith, alone with two strangers in a strange house. He’d hardly looked up as she left, entranced by Rusty lying on the bed with him reading Thomas Tank stories, but maybe he’d noticed she’d gone and was playing up?

She glanced at Toby. “You haven’t had any calls on your mobile?”

“No.” His dark eyes considered her for a moment before returning to the road.

She’d spoken without thinking—had she ruined the moment? She was supposed to be a slinky call girl, not a mum worrying about her two-year-old. Was he annoyed because she’d raised the subject? She’d tried not to think about Charlie while they were in the bar, and it had worked, but now…

“I’m sorry,” she began, but stopped as he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his mobile.

He flipped it open, checked the screen and pressed a few buttons, then handed it to her. “That’s Faith’s number.”

She could have kicked herself. “It’s okay, I can go out for an hour without having to call, I’m not an over-protective mother or anything…”

“Esther, are you under the impression I’m mad at you? I’d been thinking the same thing myself, wondering if he was okay. Go on, double check. If he’s upset, I’ll take you to Faith’s. If he’s fine, well then, we can relax, can’t we?”

Her throat tightened. He understood. He was Charlie’s father, and he felt the same way about their son as she did.

High-class hookers didn’t burst into tears when they were shown a bit of kindness. Nevertheless, she had to bite her lip hard as she pressed the button to ring.

Chapter Seventeen

Esther cleared her throat as Faith answered the phone. “Hey, Faith, it’s Esther.”

“Hey, Esther. You okay?”

“Yeah, good. I just thought I’d check that Charlie isn’t driving you insane.”

“Nah, he’s cool. Rusty’s captivating him with a story about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Don’t worry, he’ll be asleep soon. Charlie, I meant, not Rusty. Although possibly Rusty as well.”

Relief swept over her. “Oh, that’s good. I thought I’d better check.”

“Yeah, no worries. You two having a good time?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Still at the bar?”

“No… We’re heading back to his place.” Her cheeks burned.

Faith laughed. “I’ll see you in ten minutes then.”

Esther giggled. Toby glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. Esther repeated her words, and he grinned. “Make it fifteen,” he said, raising his voice, “and we’ll have time for a pizza afterward.”

The girls laughed and said goodbye, and Esther closed the phone. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him.

“No worries.” He tucked it back in his jeans.

“Sorry about laughing at her comment.”

“Meh. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

She looked at him curiously. “Why do you let them tease you like that? Doesn’t it upset you? You’re hardly bad in the bedroom—don’t you feel insulted sometimes?”

He shrugged. “I think they forget we’ve all grown up.” He sighed. “I guess you should know—Eve and I slept together once.”

“Eve, the bride-to-be?” Jealousy stabbed through her.

“Yeah. It was eons ago. I was twenty-one, she was…eighteen, I think. We were both pretty drunk. She’d broken up with a boyfriend and wanted consoling, and one thing led to another. Well, I hadn’t been with a girl for months and it didn’t take very long. My technique wasn’t as improved then as it is now.” He smiled at her before returning his gaze to the road. “And now my skill in the bedroom—or lack of it—is a standing joke.”

“It was only the once?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t great for either of us, and we decided to just forget about it.”

“Was it awkward?” She was curious whether it was possible to stay friends after breaking up with someone. After all, she was going to have to learn how to do it when she went back to Christchurch, if Toby wanted to continue to play a part in Charlie’s life.

He shrugged. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just consolation sex.”

She nodded and looked out of the window. That was what she had to learn. Sex didn’t always involve the heart. And that was what tonight was about, wasn’t it? Disassociating her heart from the rest of her body. She wanted Toby desperately—wanted to kiss him, hold him, welcome him inside her. But it was a purely physical need—that was why she’d suggested the Naughty Nights as a tool to remind her.

He turned into the driveway and pulled up in front of his house. The sun had set, and the lemon and mandarin trees cast shadows across the gravel road. It was warm and humid, and a trickle of sweat ran between her breasts.

He turned off the engine, unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face her. They studied each other in the fading light, the only sound the chirping of cicadas in the trees.

“Have I put my foot in it?” he said. “Mentioning Eve. I thought it best to tell you in case one of the others said something.”

“It doesn’t matter.”
 

“She’s marrying Dan,” he said. “They’re crazy about each other.”

She smiled. “Toby, seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s none of my business who you’ve slept with in the past, or who you sleep with in the future.”

“I guess. But I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

She frowned. His face was open and honest, earnest even. It mattered to him. That warmed her. Sex might just be sex, but he did care for her.

“I forgot to ask you,” he said softly. “What’s your name?”

She blinked and then realised he was referring to the role-play they were supposed to be doing. “Roxie Glitterhorn,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”

He burst out laughing. “What a great name. A stage name, I’m presuming?”

She put on an affronted look. “How rude. My mother gave me that name.”

“Little did she know how well it would suit you.” He smiled. “You want to come in?”

She nodded.

“You’re sure?” He seemed hesitant. He must be worried he was pushing her to do something she didn’t really want to do.

She unclipped her belt and turned to face him. Raising a hand, she brushed his cheek and his long dark sideburns, and slipped her fingers into his thick, curly hair. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He inhaled, and then he lowered his arm around her and held her as they kissed. His lips were firm and warm, and when she opened her mouth, he stroked his tongue inside. She murmured her pleasure, and his arm tightened as he deepened the kiss, causing her heart to hammer as her breathing quickened.

When they finally pulled back, she pressed her lips together, shocked at how much she hungered for him.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
 

She followed him as he got out of the car and walked across to the house.

He opened the front door and they went inside, and he switched on a lamp in the corner, casting the room in a warm glow. He was such a big man, tall, broad-shouldered, heavily built and well muscled. Although he had the reputation of being clumsy and frequently knocked over vases and lamps and walked into doorframes, he moved gracefully, his body toned and flexible. He obviously worked out, she thought, noting the way the shirt stretched over his biceps as he reached across to throw his keys onto the coffee table. He was a fine figure of a man.

Suddenly nervous, she walked through to the dining and kitchen area and perched on a stool by the breakfast bar as he followed her in.

“Glass of wine?” he asked, going over to the fridge.

“Please.” She shouldn’t drink any more—she’d have a hangover the size of Australia the next morning, but it would give her something to do with her hands, which shook a little with nerves.

He retrieved a bottle of white wine from the fridge, poured her a glass and slid it across to her, and got himself a Coke. As she sipped the wine, he went over to where his iPod sat in its dock, selected a playlist and pressed Play. The warm sounds of some folksy jazz filled the room, and he turned down the volume so it played in the background.

He perched opposite her on a stool, his long legs brushing against hers. “Hey,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back, aware of her heart pounding, the adrenalin rushing through her veins. “Hey.”

He reached out a hand and took hers, lacing their fingers together. “Don’t be nervous.”

Was she that transparent? She couldn’t deny it. “Sorry.”

He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay. It’s been a while for me too, you know.”

She nodded, not knowing how to explain it wasn’t just the fact that she hadn’t slept with anyone for years. How could she tell him it was the closeness of him that was making her mouth dry—that the sight of him in a smart shirt with his gorgeous dark curly hair and tight jeans made her shiver?

“We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want.” He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. “We could just sit on the sofa and chat, if you like. I don’t mind.”

Chapter Eighteen

Well,
that
just made her melt. She took a final mouthful of wine for Dutch courage and then put the glass down, slipped off the stool and moved closer to him between his legs. She slid her arms around his neck, and he moved his around her waist. Where he was sitting, it made them the same height, and she brushed her lips against his.
 

“But you’ve already paid,” she said huskily.
 

“True,” he said.

“So if I don’t come across, I could be arrested under the Trade Descriptions Act.”

He chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that.”

She batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Would you like me to leave?”

In answer, he pulled her hard against him and crushed his mouth to hers. The full force of his passion washed over her, and she gasped. He took the opportunity of her open mouth to deepen the kiss, and she sighed as his tongue stroked hers, warm and inviting. He slid his hands up her ribcage over the tight dress, brushing her breasts, and then pulled back.

“I’m sure you look delightful in this pretty bra,” he murmured. “But I’d rather feel the real you. Can you do that miraculous trick girls do and take it off under your dress?”

“Are you sure?” Nerves filtered through her again. “It kind of props up everything that’s beginning to head south.” He just raised an eyebrow, however, and she cursed beneath her breath, trying to remind herself that she was supposed to be a slinky call girl. Slinky call girls didn’t talk about baby tummies and sagging breasts. “Sorry.”

First she took out the check he’d given her from her bra and popped it into the purse she’d left on the table. “Don’t want to lose that.” She reached behind and unclipped the bra, drew the straps down her arms beneath the sleeves of the dress, then pulled the garment out and tossed it onto the table. She glanced down. The dress was really more of a long, tight tube with small sleeves, and it clung to every part of her body, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her nipples stood out like buttons through the fabric, and her breasts looked huge.

“Wow.” Toby’s eyes gleamed. “You have an absolutely fantastic figure.”

Warmth spread through her at his admiration. “Thank you.”

“You’ve lost some weight.”

“Breastfeeding did that.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she bit her lip. Could she think of any more ways to turn him off?

But he didn’t look turned off. He ran his hands up her body to cup her breasts. “You’re so soft.”

“You’re not,” she said breathlessly as he pulled her to him, his erection obvious even through the jeans.

“Is that any surprise while you’re in my arms, so sensual and womanly?” He moved his large, warm hands over her, making her quiver as he ran his fingers up her back, then brought them around to cup her breasts again. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, murmuring his approval as her eyes fluttered shut. “You smell fantastic,” he said. He nuzzled her neck and ear, and she shivered.

She kissed him again, holding his face with both hands as she delved her tongue hungrily into his mouth. He tasted divine. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone—since she’d kissed him, in fact. How had she lived without this for so long?
 

He was coaxing her body awake, stirring long-forgotten sensations, and an ache grew between her thighs. Her nipples tightened in response to his touch, and she arched her back to push them into his gentle hands. He groaned.

Her fingers itched to touch his skin, so she began to undo the buttons of his shirt, gradually revealing his wide, bronzed chest, shaped with firm muscles. He went to slip the shirt off, but she shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “keep your fuck-me shirt on.”

His eyes widened with amusement. “My what?”

“You heard me. That shirt wants only one thing. You look so damn sexy dressed like that.”

He grinned. “Fine.” He held the bottom of her dress. “But I want you naked.”

Instinctively, she grasped his wrists, stopping him. A skintight dress was one thing. Being completely naked and not in utter darkness was another.