The Heartbroker (10 page)

He trails gentle kisses up my neck, sending tingles through my body. “Are there any more ‘buts’?”

I melt into his arms, my body screaming at me to give in to him. My will to fight my intense attraction for him slips away. I want this man with every cell in my body.

Resistance is futile.  Devil Brooke is ecstatic.

He scatters slow, gentle kisses on my neck. His mouth is hot, tender, sending electric shocks through me wherever it touches.

Don’t stop, don’t stop.

“We can take this as fast or as slow as you want.” He stops the neck kissing that’s driving me almost insane. “It’s up to you, Brooke. You need to know, I want you any way I can have you.”

His eyes dilate as he gazes at me, and the intensity of my need for him becomes almost unbearable.

He pulls me in closer, and my body throbs in response. Every part of me wants me to kiss him, to taste him. And then he’s touching me, caressing me, and I tighten with sweet, sweet expectation.

I reach up and run my fingers though his hair, pushing my body closer into him as he lets out a moan of pleasure in anticipation. I breathe in his intoxicating scent.

Finally, our lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss, tingling as we touch. It’s so light and tender, sending a fresh thrum of desire through me, bringing my nerve endings to attention.

Our kiss becomes intense, passionate, we can’t get enough of each other, as our mouths open and our tongues find one another.

Panting, we pull apart for what might have been a few seconds, or perhaps longer: I couldn’t have told you had my life depended on it.

“God, Brooke,” he utters, breathing hard. I notice his excitement is barely contained in his straining jeans. “You are so, so sexy.”

Mercifully, his lips find mine again, and as his hands slide up and down my body, I let out a gasp. The throbbing in my Girly Bits intensifies into an exquisite, demanding need for him.

I take a step back, pulling my merino top off and dropping it on the floor. I undo the buttons of my shirt as I hold his gaze, exposing my lacy bra.

He lets out a breath heavy with desire as he watches my every move.

After a moment, he takes my cue, pulling his sweater over his head, exposing the broad shoulders and muscular chest I caught a glimpse of yesterday at the pool. On instinct I reach over and lightly trace the contours of his muscles with my fingers as I kiss his chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

As I lower my hand down his taut belly I reach the tantalizing line of hair leading down into his jeans.

The anticipation of his skin against mine has become the most exquisite torture. I can barely wait to touch it, to feel him deep inside me.

My shirt on the ground, he grabs me and unhooks my bra, his thumb brushing my nipple as I let out a moan. My back arches in response as he caresses my breasts with his hot mouth and slips his hands down my body, reaching inside my panties, sending a sharp wave of desire through my body.

“Oh, god, Brooke.” His voice is husky.

He pulls my jeans down and takes one of my erect nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

I groan in pleasure as I unbutton his jeans and slip them down his thighs to see just how much he wants me.

We continue to kiss, exploring one another’s bodies with our hands and mouths as we tug off our final pieces of clothing. We’re finally skin-on-skin, deliciously entwined.

“I want you so much,” he says hoarsely between deep kisses, his hands sliding over my body.

“I want you too.” I’m unable to contain myself a moment longer. “Now.”

He sits down on the edge of his bed, pulling me with him, not taking his eyes from mine. I straddle him while we kiss again, his hand sliding down my belly, playing with me, stroking me, bringing me to breaking point.

I lower myself onto him, slipping him inside me. I gasp in pleasure as he fills me completely up. We move in an exquisite rhythmic motion together. It’s deliciously slow at first, increasing in intensity as our bodies respond to one another, the rocking motion bringing us both to the crescendo of our desire.

We stay locked in our embrace, our bodies hot, slick with sweat, both breathing hard as we regain our equilibrium.

He kisses me gently. “Brooke,” he says simply.

We make love numerous times that afternoon and into the night, sating our need for one another over again.

Being with him is everything I had hoped it would be and so, so much more.

We come up for air just long enough for Logan to buy more condoms at the pharmacy down the road from the hotel. With his ruffled hair and crumpled clothes, he looks just like he’s in the midst of a marathon sex session.

Which, of course, he is.

As I lie in bed—
Logan’s
bed—waiting for him to return, I’m shaky but blissful. I think about our day together in Arrowtown, about how he’d got me to eat sweets for the first time in years, and of how his body feels next to mine, in mine. I let out a contented sigh, smiling to myself as that Marcy Playground song, ‘Sex and Candy’, jumps into my head.

I could stay here for the rest of the weekend, and beyond, happy in my little sex and candy cocoon with Logan.

THE SUN IS DOING its best to creep around the edges of the curtains as I wake up the following morning. I’m momentarily disoriented, blinking as I peer around the room, until memories of the previous night come crashing into my brain.

Oh. My. God. I had sex! With
Logan
.

And it was amazing, even better than I had imagined: and I had imagined it would be pretty darn incredible.

I flush as my body remembers how he felt against me, in me, his hands, his mouth, all over my body, bringing me to the point of ecstasy.

I steal a look at him lying beside me, asleep, naked beneath the sheets. He’s on his back, his broad, muscular chest exposed. I watch his slow, rhythmic breathing, not daring to move an inch, lest I wake him from his slumber.

Eventually, I pull the sheets off, climb gingerly out of bed, and tip toe to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I heave a sigh of relief. Commando Brooke.

I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink and am faced with my worst fears: what mascara I once had on my lashes is now lodged below my eyes, reminiscent of an American football player’s.

And my hair? Let’s just say it’s not exactly at its stylish best. My natural curl has forced its way out around the edges of my face where I’d worked up a sweat during last night’s, umm, activities, making me look like I’m in a Jane Austen novel. And the rest of it better resembles a pile of discarded straw than a human head of hair.

Not having any of my own toiletries with me, I grab Logan’s comb from the bench and smooth it out as best I can, then swipe the smudged mascara from beneath my eyes with one of the hotel’s facecloths.

Not quite a beauty queen, but a million times better than a few moments ago.

I spy Logan’s toothbrush and pause before squirting some toothpaste onto its bristles. Why using his toothbrush seems more intimate to me than the things we did with one another last night will have to remain one of life’s mysteries.

As satisfied as I can be with my appearance, I gaze at myself in the mirror once more. With nothing else to do, a cacophony of thoughts swim around my mind like a group of over-excited kids at a pool party.

What have I
done
?

I slept with a man. And not with just any guy: with
Logan
. With the man who holds my future in his hands.

A wave of ice-cold panic threatens to engulf me.

You’re an idiot, Brooke Mortimer, a prize-winning, top of the class,
epic
idiot.

My heart races when an image of him looking at me with so much emotion, so much honesty in his eyes, flashes into my head. He said he was falling for me. He said he’s never met a woman like me.

He said a lot of things.

It’s just like one of my rom coms. And just like in a rom com, I’ve fallen for a guy I’ve known for, what? Three minutes? It can’t be. It
has
to be just lust.

Either that or the momentary insanity brought on by Mexican food and successful business deals.

I take a deep breath and raise my chin.

Last night I believed every word he said. I believed him when he said he has developed strong feelings for me, that I’m all he can think about. Because I
wanted
to believe him. Because I feel that way about him.

Now, regarding my reflection in the cold light of day, I question his motives. There are so many reasons why he wouldn’t want to start up anything serious with me.

To begin with, he lives in another country—another
hemisphere
, for goodness sake—and we all know long distance relationships don’t work.

Then there’s the fact he’s hot hot hot. He could have any woman he wants. Why choose me? I don’t mean to be too self-deprecating or anything, really I don’t: I know I’m no supermodel.

It’s not logical to me.

I let out a long breath, even though I had no idea I had been holding it.

Did he mean those things? Or were they just the way he felt there and then, in the heat of the moment?

And what does this mean for our business deal? He said his company wanted to sign the agreement with me, go ahead with the partnership. Will he have changed his mind now that he’s had me? Will the allure of my company have diminished this morning, now his desires have been sated?

Arrrgh
! I want to screech, but I daren’t for fear of waking him.

I take a few deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down.

I might be making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe things will go back to normal today, like we didn’t do what we did with one another last night, say the things we said. Like it’s just an everyday thing to be told how much an amazing guy wants me. And have the most incredible sex of my life.

It’s almost like I’m a virgin, sampling the delights of sex for the very first time, opening a new and amazing world for me.

I shake my head. Hell, it’s not like I haven’t had sex before. It doesn’t have to
mean
anything, Brooke. Plenty of people have sex without feelings complicating things.

Feelings like love.

I swallow, attempting to push down the lump forming in my throat. I know I’m not what you would call a ‘one-night-stand-kind-of-girl’—hardly a ‘love-’em-and-leave-’em-wanting-more’ type—but I can try my best to do this. I’m a woman of the world, after all, a big girl.

Sex is just sex. Right?

Hmm, let’s see. I scan my brain. What would Lucinda do? She would be happy she had bedded such a hot guy and simply move on to the next conquest. Another notch in the bedpost.

I groan as I put my head in my hands. I’m using Lucinda Hargreaves as my role model here? I’ve plunged to a new, horrendous low.

Eventually I decide the best thing—the only thing—for me to do is to collect my clothes, sneak back to my own room, and try not to let last night cloud my judgement about work,
and
about Logan.

I wrap myself in a towel and open the bathroom door. Thankfully, Logan is still asleep. I take slow, measured steps around the room, collecting my scattered clothing as I go.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says sleepily. “Going somewhere?”

Busted.

I straighten up from picking my bra off the floor near the end of the bed and my breath catches as I take him in. He’s propped himself up on his elbows, the sheets just covering his taut, tanned belly. He smiles lazily at me, his hair ruffled adorably, looking sexier than I think I’ve ever seen him.

Why does he have to look so good?
All
the freaking time?  It’s hardly fair.

I choose to ignore his question. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, I’m a morning person. I wake up early no matter how late I go to bed. I heard you get up.”

A morning person? He’s even more perfect than I had thought.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He eyes my ball of clothes. “Are you leaving?”

“I, err—” I begin, looking down at my clothes, which are suddenly as heavy as a pile of stones in my hands. “I thought it might be for the best?”

I hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question. Looking at Logan lying in the bed we shared last night, I’m not so sure I can channel Lucinda.

He regards me quizzically, sitting himself up fully. “Why? What do you mean ‘for the best’?” he asks.

I hug my clothes into my chest as I look around the room, working out how best to answer him, as I bite my bottom lip.

“I thought maybe last night was, you know, just some fun. I thought, you know, I should, umm, go.”

Smooth, Brooke.

“Fun? Yeah, I think you’re right. It sure was fun.” He shoots me a cheeky grin. He pats the bed next to him. “Come, sit.”

I comply, putting my crumpled clothes down at the end of the bed.

“Are you okay?” He frowns and I have to resist the urge to reach up and smooth the lines away.

“I don’t know.” Inexplicably, I might cry.

“Brooke.” He takes a deep breath. “If you want to go, I won’t stand in your way.”

I nod. He looks at me with such sincerity I’m ashamed of the fact I tried to run out on him while he was still asleep.

He reaches over and touches my hand. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I look up into his eyes as my stomach does a flip. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. Last night was—” he begins as a fresh smile spreads across his face. “Brooke, you’re an incredible woman. I thought I’d made my feelings for you clear last night: I’m falling for you. I think we have the beginnings of something special here. Don’t you? The last thing I want to happen right now is for you to leave. Believe me.”

Relief floods through me. I smile sheepishly at him. “Me too,” I admit. “About falling for you. And leaving.”

I knew I wasn’t the one-night-stand type.

“Well, then,” he says, a glint in his eye. “You had better loosen that towel off and get your hot ass back into bed with me right now before I rip it off myself.”

A jolt of electricity courses through me as my grin spreads from ear to ear. “Be my guest.”

He moans as he pulls the covers back, revealing just how much he wants me in bed with him.

My Girly Bits wake up as he tugs my towel off me, allowing it to drop to the bed.

“Get in here.” His voice is low and thick with lust.

I slip into bed with him, feeling the exquisite warmth of his body against mine once more. I kiss him, tenderly at first, until our tongues find one another, my body demanding so much more.

“Mm, minty fresh,” he murmurs between kisses, running his hands over my body.

He rolls me on top of him, pushing my legs open with his knee as he kisses me again.

I wonder why I thought leaving this delectable man would ever be the right thing to do.
 

* * *

“Want some breakfast? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

“Oh, yes please.” I realise just how hungry I am, my stomach rumbling in response.

With breakfast on its way and Logan in the shower, I sit in bed. It’s like I’m in some kind of alternate reality. Until yesterday, I’d spent every waking hour since he walked into my life forcing any thoughts about him—other than purely professional ones, of course—out of my mind.

Now, my brain is filled to the brim with him—of
us
—and it makes me so contented, so calm, so happy. It’s like we fit, like this was meant to be. I simply can’t stop myself from smiling.

Not only that—as if there needed to be more—we’re about to sign the partnership agreement I’ve been working towards for so long, helping me to realise my dreams.

It’s like one big, exciting, crazy—and rather raunchy—dream.

Logan has left the draft partnership agreement on the table, so I pick it up and have a leaf through. It all seems very standard to me, and reflects what we had discussed: I sell
You: Now
half of my company in return for their financial and logistical support in tackling the Australian markets first, then moving further afield in the longer term. In effect it positions
Live It
as the Australian face of their company: exactly what I wanted.

As I begin to go cross-eyed from all the legal jargon, I reach for my phone and notice I’ve missed calls from Stefan, Alexis, and Grace. I check my messages and listen while Stefan asks where I am; Alexis tells me she has some exciting news and asks me if I’ve managed to keep my hands off Mr American Love God (if she only knew the half of it); and Grace asks me to give her a call.

I write a quick text to Stefan, telling him I’ll see him at the venue soon, then slip down the bed, under the covers. The rest of the world can wait while I luxuriate in Logan’s and my wonderful, new world.

Logan pokes his head around the bathroom door as steam puffs out into the room. “I’ve got to go meet Brad in a few minutes. Will her Highness be arising any time soon?”

A smile spreads across my face. “Her Highness wishes to bask in the memories of last night, thank you very much.”

He approaches the bed, leans down and kisses me sweetly on the lips. “Well, they don’t just have to be memories. I’m at her Majesty’s service at, say, three o’clock?”

“It’s a date.”

* * *

Floating along inside a gorgeous bubble of joy, I’m showered, dressed, hair tamed, and heading to the
Live It
suite when I notice Stefan approaching me.

“Brooke. I need to talk to you,” he stage whispers out of the corner of his mouth.

“Sure. What about?” I ask, smiling contentedly. Nothing can bother me today.

He pulls me towards the lobby. “Let’s go for a walk. Outside.”

He looks so serious I could giggle. “Sure.” I smile at him, not moving.