Natalie Anderson - In Bed With the Enemy

He slid his hand beneath that waistband and watched her mouth open in a silent oh. For a brief moment her eyes closed as he went lower, brazenly sliding his fingers right down into her pants.

Her whole body spasmed.

He paused, breathing hard as he felt her instinctive rocking up to meet his hand. She wanted him.

‘Don’t be too pleased with yourself,’ she panted, defiant to the end. ‘I’m always hot after I exercise.’

‘Oh, very hot.’ He delved deeper. Slow, exploratory strokes that he quickened when he felt how incredibly hot she was. Hot and wet and uncontrollably arching her hips to ride his touch.

She shrugged, but she had that drugged look. ‘It makes me more orgasmic.’

Ooooookay. ‘My touching you?’ He leaned closer to catch her breathless whisper.

‘No …’

‘No?’ He half laughed, half groaned as he massaged her wet heat, sliding his fingers deep and thumbing her sweet spot. ‘How close are you?’

‘Not … that close.’

He barely caught her answer she was so breathless. Ethan exulted in the fire escalating within her, flicked his fingers that bit faster. And incredibly, awesomely, that was all it took.

Her head arched back violently, her eyes closing as she clamped hot and tight, suddenly releasing hard and fast, a strangled moan slipping from her full lips.

‘Did you just come?’ Astounded, he had to ask to be sure. ‘I hardly did anything.’

And he was so excited he was about to make a fool of himself.

‘Like I said,’ she panted, opening her eyes—they glittered so bright they revealed nothing. ‘Exercise makes me more orgasmic. You know—the blood was already pumping.’

Oh, he wanted pumping. He wanted pumping right now. Only he was stuck in the middle of a public park and he had no chance of getting what he wanted in the next five minutes. His jaw ached because his teeth were clenched so hard. But he had to clarify her outrageous statement. ‘So you’re saying it wasn’t really me? That it was the exercise ?’

Her shoulders lifted lazily.

He laughed, delighted with the appearance of her inner ball-breaker. She was totally angling to emasculate him. ‘So five minutes of skating got you to screaming point? Wow. That’s a good tip to know. You meant it when you said the wheels made you fast.’

All he could see were green jewel eyes, a lazy smile and lightly flushed cheeks. She even let out a little sigh of satisfaction as she muttered, ‘Yes.’

Oh, he didn’t believe her. He focused, reading every tiny little sign. Understanding her was suddenly everything. Her tongue flicked, quickly dampening the corner of her mouth. She lowered her lashes, hiding her dawning reaction.

Unadulterated challenge and nothing but.

Reluctantly he slid his fingers from their newfound favourite home and lifted them to his lips. He leaned over her, pressing his aching erection right between her upper thighs, not caring if he squashed her for this one second—to get his point across.

Her eyes widened, glazing over again, her breathing hitching to almost hysterical. Yeah, she liked it. And he loved how much she liked it.

‘You think you’re going to teach me a lesson?’ he taunted softly. ‘Trouble is, you’re not satisfied yet, darling. You and I both know that was just the warm-up.’

NADIA didn’t know what she wanted first, second or third. It was worse than when she hadn’t eaten for a few hours. Decision-making was completely beyond her. So was prioritising. She didn’t want to move, but she was desperate to. She didn’t want Ethan to lift his gloriously heavy body from hers, but she wanted him to hurry so they could get somewhere private. She wanted him to go on top, go underneath, go down. She wanted him so many ways she couldn’t think, breathe or speak for the anticipation.

Yes, now she knew just how good the guy was. Some of it was the packaging, some of it was chemical, but most of it was attitude and skill. He had every right to be the cocksure dude he was. And which was more important to Nadia right now—deflating his ego or having the time of her life?

Time of her life. Hands down.

Maybe he felt it—the moment of pure surrender, the subtle relaxation of her body as she gave in. Maybe the desperation was all too obvious in her expression. But he smiled and lifted away from her. Maintaining blatant, blistering eye contact as he extended a hand to haul her up.

She awkwardly walked the few paces across the grass to get back to the path, her thighs so wobbly she doubted she could skate any more. But some kind of muscle memory locked in. Some last shred of dignity—the need to mask how completely shattered she’d been by those few moments in the grass and pretend some more it had all just been the exercise. As she began to recover a little co-ordination he started to jog. She skated faster to keep up.

‘We’ll continue with the plan and go get my bike,’ he said, sounding too damn unruffled and making her doubt everything again—especially that hungry stare he’d subjected her to as he’d pressed her into the grass.

She concentrated hard on the concrete path, not wanting him to see how disappointing his words were. She was gutted that they hadn’t done everything right there and then. Had he recovered his reason now? Was he going to go back to being the gentleman—not the rogue who always took what he wanted without giving a damn?

She really wanted him to take what he wanted. She wanted to be what he wanted. She skated as her energy returned to comic book superhero levels—courtesy of frustration. As she sped up, so did he, until they were moving swiftly out of the park, down the paths, easily avoiding the pedestrians—as if they really did have some kind of superhuman co-ordination and speed.

She glanced at him, absorbed the effortless grace of his big body in motion. He was fit—surprisingly fast for someone so tall. And maybe it wasn’t so effortless—because as she looked closer she saw his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white, his big biceps more defined than ever. Anticipation sent adrenalin licking through her veins again.

His hand suddenly closed on her upper arm, and he gave a sharp tug so she veered off course, spinning in a half-circle and colliding against him. His other hand caught her round the waist, pressing her chest and belly to his and keeping her there.

‘We’re here.’ He lifted her, keeping her clamped to him, and jogged up the three steps to the main door, wincing as the toe of her boot accidentally connected with his shin. She was too puffed, too turned on, to apologise. At the top he lowered her, releasing her arm to reach behind her. His other hand kept her pushed hard into his hot body. She heard a series of beeps, figured he’d pushed a security code into the pad next to the big door. Sure enough, she heard a click as it unlocked.

‘Can you manage the carpet with your skates?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, just pushed her so she rolled in backwards.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He stopped on the first-floor landing and pulled out a key. ‘Hot again after that exercise?’ he asked, dripping with innuendo.

Oh, yeah—as if it was the exercise warming her up. What a liar she was. She’d been hot for days, since that kiss after the movies. It was all him. But while she wasn’t about to deflate his ego this minute, she wasn’t going to puff it up even more either.

‘Not hot enough,’ she said bluntly, and slid past him onto the wooden floor of his apartment, gliding down the hall and into the main room. It was a big apartment—tasteful. Not that she took in many details.

She heard the door shut and his fast pace. His hands caught her hips and drew her back against him, his mouth hot on the side of her neck. She instantly angled her head so he could access more skin. Her skates propelled her forward, away.