Amy Andrews - Tempted By Mr Off-Limits

His hands slid into her hair, pulling her head down, his mouth seeking hers.

Her pulse thundered through her ears and throbbed between her legs and she moaned as their lips met. She couldn’t have stopped it even had she wanted to.

And she didn’t.

He swallowed it up, his mouth opening over hers, a faint trace of his toothpaste a cool undercurrent to all the heat. He kissed her slow but deep, wet and thorough, and Lola’s entire body tingled and yearned as she clutched at his shoulders from her dominant position, moaning and gasping against his mouth.

He was all she could think about. His mouth and his heat and the hardness between his legs. No work, no death, no stricken children, no disbelieving wives. Just Hamish, good and hard and hot and hers , filling her senses and her palms and the space between her thighs.

Lola barely registered falling or the softness of landing as his hands guided her backwards. But she did register the long naked stretch of him against her. The way his hips settled into the cradle of her pelvis, the way his erection notched along the seam of her sex, the way his body pressed her hard and good into the cushions.

He was dominating her now and she loved it. Wanted more. Needed more. His skin sliding over hers. His body sliding into hers. It was as if he could read her mind. His hands pushing her shirt up, gliding over her stomach and ribs and breasts, pulling it off over her head before returning to her breasts, squeezing and kneading, pinching her nipples, his mouth coming back hard and hot on hers, kissing and kissing and kissing until she was dizzy with the magic of his mouth, clawing at his back and gasping her pleasure.

He kissed down her neck and traced the lines of her collar bones with the tip of his tongue before lapping it over her sternum and circling her nipples, sucking each one into his mouth making her cry out, making her mutter, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ in some kind of incoherent jumble. And he kept doing it, licking and sucking as his hands pushed at her underwear and hers pushed at his until they were both free of barriers.

He broke away, tearing the foil open and rolling the condom on, then he was back and she almost lost her breath at the thickness of his erection sliding between her legs. He was big and hard, gliding through her slickness, finding her entrance and settling briefly.

‘You feel so good,’ he muttered, before easing inside her, slowly at first then pushing home on a groan that stirred the cells in her marrow and lit the wick on her arousal.

She flared like a torch in the night, insane with wanting him, wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anybody before, panting her need straight into his ear, ‘ God yes , like that,’ revelling in the thickness of him, the way he stretched her, the way he filled her. ‘Just like that...’

And he gave it to her like that and more, rocking and pounding, kissing her again, swallowing her moans and her cries and her pants, smothering them with his own as he thrust in and pulled out, a slow steady stroke, the rhythm of his hips setting the rhythm in her blood and the sizzle in her cells. Electricity buzzed from the base of her spine to the arch of her neck.

Her mind was blank of everything but the heat and the thrust and the feel of him. The prison of his strong, rounded biceps either side of her and the broad, naked cage of his chest pinning her to the couch and the piston of his hard, narrow hips nailing her into the cushions. And the smell of him, hot and male and aroused, filling up her head, making her nostrils flare with the wild mix of toothpaste and testosterone.

Lola gasped, tearing her mouth from his as her orgasm burst around her, starting in her toes, curling them tight before rolling north, undulating through her calves and her knees and her thighs, exploding between her legs and imploding inside her belly, breaking over her in waves of ever-increasing intensity until all she could do was hold on and cry out ‘Hamish!’ as it took her.

‘I know.’ He panted into her neck, his breathing hot and heavy, his body trembling like hers. ‘I know.’ He reared above her, thrusting hard one last time, his back bowed, his fists ground into the cushions either side of her head. ‘Lola-a-a-a...’

He came hard, his release bellowing out of him as his hips took over again and he rocked and rocked and rocked her, pushing her orgasm higher and higher and higher, taking her with him all the way to top until they were both spent, panting and clinging and falling back to earth in a messy heap of limbs and satisfaction.

Lola hadn’t even realised she’d drifted off to sleep when Hamish moved away and she muttered something in protest. He hushed her as she drifted again. Somewhere in the drunken quagmire of her brain she thought she should get up and leave, but it was nice here in the afterglow.

Too nice to move.

Hell, a normal woman would have dragged him back to her bed. It was bigger with a lot more potential for further nocturnal activity of the carnal kind. But then he was back and he was shuffling in behind her, his heavy arm dragging her close as he spooned her and she could barely open her eyes let alone co-ordinate her brain and limbs to make a move.

She was finally in a place where there was nothing on her mind and she liked it there.

She liked it very, very much.

CHAPTER THREE

Three months later...

HAMISH WASN’T SURE how he was going to be greeted by Lola as he stood in front of her door. Sure, they’d spoken in the last few weeks since Grace had arranged for him to live with Lola for the next two months while he did his urban intensive care rotation, but they hadn’t seen each other since that night.

And he still wasn’t sure this was the wisest idea.

He’d assured Lola that he could find somewhere else. Had stressed that she shouldn’t let Grace steamroller her into sharing her home with him because his sister felt guilty about her snap decision to finally move in with Marcus. It was true, someone paying the rent for the next eight weeks would give Lola time and breathing space to find the right roomie rather than just a roomie, but Grace wasn’t aware of their history.

Unless Lola had told Grace. But he didn’t think his sister would be so keen on this proposed temporary arrangement if that had been the case. Neither did he think for a single second that he wouldn’t have heard from her about it if she did know.

Lola had assured him she hadn’t felt backed into a corner and it made perfect sense for him to live with her temporarily. It would help her out and their apartment was conveniently located for him.

Perfect sense.

Except for their chemistry. And for the number of times he’d thought about her these past three months. He’d told her it had been unforgettable and that had proved to be frustratingly true. How often had he thought about ringing her? Or sending her flirty texts? Not to mention how often he’d dreamed about her.

About what they’d done. And the things he still wanted to do.

Things that woke him in the middle of the night with her scent in his nostrils and a raging erection that never seemed satisfied with his hand. He shut his eyes against the movie reel of images.

Just roomies .

That’s what she’d insisted on when they’d spoken about the possibility of this. Insisted that what had happened between them was in the past and they weren’t going to speak of it again. They definitely weren’t going to act on it again.

Just roomies. That was the deal-breaker, she’d said.

And he’d agreed. After all, it hadn’t seemed too difficult over a thousand kilometres away. But standing in front of her door like this, the reality of her looming, was an entirely different prospect. He felt like a nervous teenager, which was utterly idiotic.