Enemies with Benefits, page 10
‘You’d endure the cold and ice sculptures for me?’
He shuddered. ‘Enjoy? I don’t think so.’
‘Endure.’
‘Yup. That’s the word. But if that’s what you want? More of this place …’ He tipped her chin up and took her mouth again, opening her coat and weaving his hand round her back, pulling her tight against him. Against his hardness and his heat. ‘Or more of that?’
She could barely breathe for awareness. ‘Why not all of it? Everything. And then, seeing as the flat’s empty, we can do anything you want there, too.’
‘Anything?’ She felt his smile against her cheek. And then, just for a fleeting second the nerves returned. What if she wasn’t enough? What if she couldn’t do it? What if he was too much? What if it wasn’t fun at all? Worse, what if she wanted more? ‘Hmm, what about Izzy?’
His nose nuzzled in her hair. ‘What? Does she want to sleep with me, too? I think Harry might—’
‘Shut up. Of course she doesn’t. What I meant was, it would be rude to just leave.’ She started to undo her skates, the jittery sexy feeling mingling with anxiety. ‘Any idea where she and Harry got to?’
‘Not a clue. Still in the bar?’
‘I’ll text them.’ But he came closer, sat on a seat and undid the laces on his skates, too. His body brushed against hers and there it was again … the buzz and the whirl in her stomach. Intense. Her phone beeped. ‘They couldn’t find us, so they’ve headed back to Harry’s.’
‘So, Winter Wonderland is your oyster. What do you want to do now?’
Apart from rip his clothes off? But yes, it was a little bit nippy to do that. She pulled a crumpled brochure from her jacket pocket. ‘There’s so much to do here. We need to pack it all into just this one night.’ Work beckoned, and then she’d be too busy with Izzy’s hen party and wedding in her downtime—or just too plain exhausted from work. ‘We could visit the ice kingdom. Or the circus? Snow sculptures? Heck, let’s do it all.’
He shook his head, his throat working. ‘All of it?’
‘All of it.’
His shoulders slumped a little. ‘And then home?’
Home. This was actually happening. She shucked the nerves away. She was going to treat this as a fact-finding mission. She was going to do the sex without emotion. She was going to be the sex-savvy woman she wanted to be. ‘If you’re good.’
His slow, lazy smile transformed his face. ‘And what do you mean by that? Bad good? Or good bad? Good good? Or, my current favourite, very, very bad?’
‘Just good.’ Then she slipped into step with him as they went to exchange their skates. She had no intention of making him do the rounds of the attractions. There was only one place she wanted to be with him, and it certainly wasn’t outside. She just prayed that she could be good, but hoped, more, that she could be very bad indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
‘ARE YOU SURE?’ Isaac knew he needed to tread carefully. Poppy had put up a good show of enthusiasm—and God, she was hot. Too hot. So hot. But also so innocent. No, not innocent, because she certainly knew what a man wanted, how to turn a man on despite what she thought, but she was still … naive. So easy to be blasé outside, fully clothed. But now he had her in the flat, door closed. How they’d managed to get home without undressing each other he didn’t know.
It was happening.
She stood in the centre of the lounge, her coat dropping from her shoulders into a thick woollen pool on the floor. Her smile was coquettish, but there was a nervousness to it. And hell, he didn’t want to hurt her. But if she kept looking at him in that I want you way, well, he wouldn’t ask again.
‘Absolutely sure.’ She nodded, slowly, keeping her dark heated gaze locked with his. Dark against light. Soft against hard. Pure against … well, he’d been round the block a few times. But never like this. Not with someone who stoked such a fevered response from him. He felt like she looked—a nervous teenager, the first time. And for a second he wavered.
‘But, Poppy, you shouldn’t learn these things from me, but from a man who …’ Who what? The words stuck in his throat. A man who would love her, who would keep her safe, who could make promises and keep them. Not from someone who would walk away. Changed—yes, inevitably he’d change, he knew that much, but would walk, anyway.
She pulled her hair out of its tie, and let her curls fall loosely around her shoulders. Every man’s fantasy. ‘I said, absolutely, Isaac. Don’t make me ask again.’
He took a few strands and ran them through his fingers, held them to his face. They smelled of citrus and her. His groin tightened again. Pure feral need ran through him. ‘Any time you want me to stop, just say. Anything you don’t—’
‘I want everything, Isaac. Don’t talk about it. Do it.’ Her shaking fingers played with the buttons on her dark purple blouse. She flicked one open. Moved her hand lower—flicked the next, allowing glimpses of a pink lace bra underneath, creamy skin, perfect skin he ached to run his hands over. He was hard. So hard for her.
‘Okay. So we’re going to take this slow. Okay? No rushing.’
‘Okay.’ She swallowed, her throat working overtime. The little pulse at the base of her throat beat a ferocious tattoo. A frown settled across her forehead. Her fingers shook. ‘Show me slow.’
And he almost gave up again. It was all kinds of wrong. Because he wanted to do it hard and fast. He wanted to be inside her. To take her. To make her his. And she could never be that.
But he could not imagine another second without kissing her again. Without feeling her skin against his. Her body against his. Her, around him.
When his mouth connected with hers any kind of hesitation evaporated. She tasted of everything he’d dreamt of. A zillion flavours of ice particles melting on his tongue. Magic. Wondrous.
As he kissed her his hands took over where hers had left off. Undoing her bra made her moan, little throaty sounds that fired sensation after sensation through his body. He peeled the blouse from her and dropped it to the floor. Slid the bra straps down her shoulders and threw it somewhere. Who knew where? He didn’t care. He stepped back a little and looked at her soft, perfect breasts, nipples pink and puckered. ‘Oh, my God. You are so beautiful.’
‘So are you.’ Smiling, she reached for his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, her fingers lingering over his pecs. After a moment of just looking at him, eyes wide and bright, she kissed a hot trail across to his nipple and licked. Relentless need shimmered through him, white hot. Her arms circled his waist, hands exploring his back, his chest, his stomach. ‘Oh, God, Isaac, why do you have to be so bloody magnificent?’
‘And I thought you wanted me to teach you. You’re doing just great as you are.’ Pushing her hair back from her face, he cradled her cheeks and kissed her softly. Tried to be patient. Tried to show her slow, but the touch of her mouth set his veins on fire. He dragged his mouth to that pulse at her throat, slicked a kiss there, along her fine shoulder bone and down to her breast.
She arched her back as he sucked in a nipple, her eyes fluttering with pleasure as she relaxed and tensed at the same time. ‘Oh, yes, that feels so good.’
‘Then it’s only fair I treat the other one the same.’
Her loud moan as he circled wet rings round those dark nipples spurred him further; she rocked against him and he wondered whether it would be he who pushed them to go too fast, who wouldn’t last many moments longer. He ached to be in her, to feel her around him. To feel her complete him. This. This out-of-control fever that sent him perilously close to the edge.
With a swift move he unzipped her jeans, shucked them down her legs and left them on the floor, his gaze lingering over matching pink panties that skimmed her bottom as he picked her up and carried her to his room. ‘Yours is too far. Stairs …’ His breathing quickened—not with the exertion, but with anticipation of what was to come.
He laid her on his bed and straddled her, careful to hold his weight. Her hand went to his jeans’ zip. ‘Show me, Isaac. Show me how you like it. Tell me what you like. Tell me what turns you on.’
‘Hey.’ He touched her hand, regretting that by carrying her in here he’d broken the spell. ‘You first. Then me.’
Dark sparkling eyes looked up at him. ‘Why not together? Is that too difficult?’
‘No. Not difficult at all—but I want you to relax and enjoy this.’
‘Oh, I am. But we might as well do you, because I never—’
‘“Do you?” What is this?’ God knew why that street phrase bothered him. It wasn’t as if this were meant to be more than sex. Emotion-free. That was what he’d told her he could do. That was what he always did. He didn’t want to think further than that—didn’t want to complicate something with thoughts and shoulds and maybes. ‘Whatever happens we are both going to enjoy this. I have ways …’
Poppy saw the gentle teasing glint in his eye but it didn’t help the new flush of nerves racing through her, mixing with the heat and the desire and making her thoughts jumbled. She’d never had a say in who got what before—and she’d always lost out. But that was too many years ago and this was now. She was about to have sex with Isaac Blair. Good God.
Relax? No chance. Wasn’t it meant to flow better than this? Wasn’t it meant to just happen without talking? ‘I don’t even know how to relax into this … Can we just concentrate on you?’
‘Then that wouldn’t be fair, would it?’ He knelt up and shifted so he lay on his side facing her, propping himself up on an elbow. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘Physically fine. I think.’ The bravado had well and truly evaporated. But she couldn’t go on like this for the rest of her life, avoiding intimate contact. What the hell Isaac thought of her now she didn’t know. But just a little respite, some space from the sensations that were threatening to overwhelm her, was helpful. ‘Scared. A bit. To be honest.’
He gave her a small reassuring smile. ‘Of what?’
‘Of it all. Losing myself. Control. Doing something stupid. What if you’re too big? If I can’t do it? Everything.’ It was too intense. All this focusing on her. Too real. Too much. She’d never had this—it had always been about Tony. Never about her. Sure, he’d pummelled her breasts a bit as he’d stabbed inside her. Quick. Hard. Hurt.
Isaac’s voice brought her back to here. Now. His bed. His heat. His arms. His touch. He stroked her hair, which soothed her. ‘You’ll be fine, Poppy. I’m not all that—’
‘Oh, no …’ She shook her head, remembering. Hell, she didn’t have to try hard—the man’s boxer shorts had been at the forefront of her mind for weeks. ‘I saw. Those black boxer shorts do not lie.’
His grin was kind. ‘Optical illusion.’
‘But black’s supposed to be slimming. Which means you’re even bigger up close.’
‘Women and men are made to fit together. It’ll work. It’s been working for millennia.’ He flipped the waistband of his boxers. ‘You want to take a peek? See for yourself?’
‘Oh …’ Heat ran the length of her, turning her insides into molten liquid. An ache settled across her abdomen and then lower. A nice ache. Delicious—desperate. Wanting. Never enough. Never satisfied. Like a pulse, waxing and waning. Yes. She wanted to see him. Hold him. Feel him. Focus on him. Focus on him. ‘I suppose I could.’
She reached for his shorts, eased them down his thighs and he kicked them away to the floor. And oh, my God—her breath stalled in her chest—he was amazing. She wrapped tentative fingers around his girth. He was hot and very hard. And the softening of his eyes as she gripped him sent waves of something shooting through her. If she focused on him, not on her, she could get through this. She might even enjoy watching his pleasure. ‘Show me what to do.’
He wrapped his hand around hers and she felt him shiver as he moved her hand up and down—not too hard. Not too soft. Not too fast. Not too slow. His face was a mask of concentration. She leant down and covered his mouth with hers. Tasting him—a new taste now, fresh, elemental, hot, wet kisses that quickly slipped to a hungry pace. She started to move her hand more quickly, heard him groan. Heard herself groan as she rocked against his thigh. She wanted to feel him in her. On her.
He turned a little, parted her legs and his fingers sank into her core. With a splintering of vision she let go of him and sucked in air. ‘Oh. My God.’
She hadn’t known it could feel like this. That a man could give her such a feeling. That fingers could make her crave more and more. Before she could stop herself she was tearing her fingers down his back and asking for more. For him. Inside her.
He rubbed his erection against her inner thigh. The intensity of sensation at her core doubled. She moved away. Moved back. Wanted more. Wanted less. She shifted her bottom a little. He was pressing against her opening.
And then. At the touch of him against her shards of light exploded through her. It was a raw physical sensation. Greed. Hunger. More. Not enough. Not enough. She shifted again, felt him press against her, heard him groan. ‘Condom. Poppy. We need a condom.’
‘Isaac. Come back.’ Isaac.
Isaac.
Barely believable. But real. He reached for his jeans. Too slow. Slipped on a condom. Too slow. And then he was back. ‘You’re so wet, Poppy. You’re an angel. A bloody Christmas angel.’
‘Now. Please. I can’t wait.’ She felt a sharp stretch. Then a push. Harder. A searing pain that made her catch her breath.
He paused. Kissed her neck, took his weight as he stretched out above her and murmured against her throat, ‘Are you okay?’
‘God, yes.’ It hurt like hell, but the pain was receding and in its place was an ache that would not be sated until he was fully in her.
Then a gentle thrust. And another. Pure physical joy rushed from her abdomen to her toes, to her head. She squeezed against him. Tried to match his rhythm, moving beneath him, trying for faster.
‘Hey. Slow down. If you do that it’s going to be over way too quickly.’
His hand squeezed in between them, fingers finding a place that exploded her thoughts into tiny pieces. He rubbed as he thrust until she didn’t know which she wanted more. His fingers. Him inside her. His kisses. She just knew she didn’t want any of it to end.
Didn’t want this to stop. To lose him. To lose herself. ‘I want more. Can we do more? Another position?’
He grinned. ‘You want to play, now? Are you sure?’
‘Why not?’ She shifted a little underneath him, felt bereft when he pulled out of her and the connection between them broke. ‘I know there’s heaps more. I just haven’t ever done any. Can we try some? One?’
‘You seriously want to talk at a time like this?’
‘Show me.’
‘Anything for you.’ His smile was sexy and kind as he sat up on the bed. ‘Okay, face me and sit on my lap. This one is great for maxed-out pleasure.’
She did as she was told, legs wrapped around his back, and he entered her again; this time he was so close she felt his full body the length of hers, skin on skin. He held her so tenderly, the intimacy was intense. She couldn’t help but look into his eyes, watch as the sexual mist came over him. Kissed him deep and hard. Then the kissing became more powerful … more intimate somehow as she kept staring into his eyes. She was making him feel like this. Making him hard.
And then he began to move more quickly, more urgently and he moaned her name. Just hearing that voice, that word, made her heart contract. She wanted this, but she wanted him more. Wanted him in her today and tomorrow. And … ‘Isaac. This is … this is …’
‘I know. I know. This is … You are amazing. Oh, God, Poppy …’ he growled as his gaze locked on to hers again as he stroked her cheek. His beautiful, intense blue eyes telling her that he felt this, too—whatever it was—this wondrous, unique sensation.
Then she couldn’t think of anything. Only that the pleasure, the sensation, must never end. She heard a moan—it wasn’t him. It must have been her. Heard herself cry out, beg for more. Beg for him to never stop. Her hand reached for his and their fingers tangled over her core as she clenched around him. Rubbing. Moving. Faster. Deeper. His body slick against hers, where he began and she ended she didn’t know.
He arched his back and cried out. And then her body shook as wave after wave of delicious trembling took her over the edge into perfect, perfect bliss.
‘Wow. Just … wow. That was fun, the best ever. Not that I have much to compare it to.’ Poppy’s head lolled against Isaac’s shoulder. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ He didn’t want to think about her previous sexual experiences; this was not the time to be angry or jealous, even though his fists involuntarily tightened. He consciously tried to relax. Plus, he didn’t like to compare. But in reality he’d never known any sex come close to that. Had never felt so connected to anyone before. Ever. ‘First time lucky, eh?’
‘I just didn’t know … didn’t expect it to be so all-consuming.’ Her smile was satisfied and awestruck. ‘A tick for the big O. Now I know what all the fuss is about. I liked it.’
‘Good. Yeah, me, too. It is meant to be enjoyable.’ But he wasn’t so sure about the feelings rattling through him now. They weren’t particularly enjoyable; they were … a mess. He watched as she came down from the high, the flutter of her eyelids as she finally let out a long, heavy sigh and curled into him. And he curled back into her, glancing out of the window, his curtains still open from the daytime. Outside, soft snowflakes swirled and fell silently. By morning London would be cosseted again by a pure white blanket. It was as if magic were being created by stealth—creeping slowly in, unnoticed—but tomorrow things would be changed.
He was aware, too, of the softening in his heart. The way he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from hers. How turned on he’d been to watch her come, to feel her around him—to smell her, touch her. How that naivety and wonder had chinked a piece of his heart. How she had chinked a piece.
