Avril Tremayne - From Fling to Forever

Ella peered into the kit and removed a square of gauze, then wrapped it around an ice cube. ‘It’s not serious and will heal quickly. Mouth injuries do. It’s all about the blood supply.’

Not that Aaron seemed interested in that piece of medical information, because he just took the wrapped ice from her impatiently.

‘I promise you I can do it myself,’ Ella said.

‘Hold still,’ he insisted. He held the ice on her bottom lip, kept it pressed there for a minute.

‘Open,’ he ordered, and Ella automatically opened her mouth for him to inspect inside. ‘Looks like you bit the inside of your lip.’ He grabbed another square of gauze, wrapped it around another cube of ice and pressed it on the small wound.

He was looking intently at her mouth and Ella started to feel uncomfortable. She could still smell that heavenly scent wafting up from his skin. Why couldn’t he smell like stale sweat like everyone else in that bar? She blinked a few times, trying to clear her fuzzy head.

Her eyes fell on his T-shirt and she saw a smear of blood on the collar. Her blood. Her fingers reached out, touched it. His neck, too, had a tiny speck of her blood. Seemingly of their own volition her fingers travelled up, rubbing at the stain. And then she remembered how it had got there. Remembered in one clear flash how she had put her mouth there, on his skin. She felt a flare of arousal and sucked in a quick breath.

He had gone very still. He was watching her. Looking stunned.

‘SORRY,’ ELLA SAID. ‘It’s just … I—I bled on you.’

‘Ella, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to touch me.’

‘Sorry,’ Ella said again, jerking her fingers away.

Aaron promptly contradicted himself by taking the hand she’d pulled away and pressing it against his chest. He could actually hear his heart thudding. It was probably thumping against her palm like a drum. He didn’t care. He wanted her hand on him. Wanted both her hands on him.

He could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the room, but except for that and his heart the silence was thick and heavy.

I don’t even like her . He said that in his head, but something wasn’t connecting his head to his groin, because just as the thought completed itself he tossed the gauze aside and reached for her other hand, brought it to his mouth, pressed his mouth there, kept it there.

Okay, so maybe you didn’t have to like someone to want them.

He really, really hadn’t expected to see her again. She was supposed to be in LA. Their ‘relationship’ should have begun and ended with one awkward conversation at a wedding.

And yet here he was. And here she was. And he had no idea what was going to happen next.

When he’d walked into that bar tonight and seen her with that idiot, he’d wanted to explode, drag her away, beat the guy senseless.

And he never lost his temper!

He’d been so shocked at his reaction he’d contemplated leaving the bar, going somewhere else—a different bar, for a walk, to bed, anything, anywhere else. But he hadn’t.

He’d only been planning on having one drink anyway, just a post-flight beer. But nope. He’d stayed, sensing there was going to be trouble. She’d laughed too much, drunk too much, Tom the idiot engineer had fondled her too much. Something was going to give.

And something definitely had.

And of course he’d been there smack bang in the middle of it, like he couldn’t get there fast enough.

And then his arms had been around her. And she’d snuggled against him. Her tongue on his neck. And he’d wanted her. Wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone in his life.

And it had made him furious.

Was making him furious now.

So why was he moving the hand he’d been holding to his mouth down to his chest, instead of letting it go?

His hands were only lightly covering hers now. She could break away if she wanted to. Bring him back to sanity. Please .

But she didn’t break away.

Her hands moved up, over his chest to his collarbones then shoulders. Confident hands. Direct and sure.

He stifled a groan.

‘You don’t want me.’ She breathed the words. ‘You don’t like me.’ But her hands moved again, down to his deltoids, stopping there. Her fingers slid under the short sleeves of his T-shirt, stroked.

This time the groan escaped as his pulse leapt.

Ella moved closer to him, sighed as she surrounded him with her arms, rested the side of her face against his chest then simply waited.

He battled himself for a long moment. His hand hovered over her hair. He could see the tremor in his fingers. He closed his eyes so the sight of her wouldn’t push him over the edge. That only intensified the sexy smell of her. Ella Reynolds. Tina’s sister . ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t do this.’ Was that his voice? That croak?

He waited, every nerve tingling. Didn’t trust himself to move. If he moved, even a fraction …

Then he heard her sigh again; this time it signalled resignation, not surrender.

‘No, of course not,’ she said, and slowly disentangled herself until she was sitting safely, separately, beside him.

Whew. Catastrophe averted .

‘A shame,’ she said. Her voice was cool and so were her eyes as she reached out to skim her fingernail over his right arm, at the top of his biceps where the sleeve of his T-shirt had been pushed up just enough to reveal the lower edge of a black tattoo circlet. Her lips turned up in an approximation of a smile. ‘Because I like tattoos. They’re a real turn-on for me. Would have been fun.’

He stared at her, fighting the urge to drag her back against his chest, not quite believing the disdainful humour he could hear in her voice, see in her eyes. Wondering if he’d imagined the yielding softness only moments ago.

At Tina and Brand’s wedding he’d sensed that there was something wrong with her. It had made him uncomfortable to be near her. Made him want to get away from her.

He had the same feeling now. Only this time he couldn’t get away. He would be damned if he’d let Tina’s sister stagger home drunk and disorderly, with a pounding head and a split lip. Oh, yeah, that’s the reason, is it? Tina?

Ella shrugged—a dismissive, almost delicate gesture. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t press you,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ve never had to beg for it in my life and I won’t start now, tattoos or not.’

She stood suddenly and smiled—the dazzling smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’d better go,’ she said.