Margaret Way - Six Australian Heroes

He turned and stared at her, his expression unreadable as his gaze moved slowly down and up her body. Gone was the overt hunger from his eyes, but they still called to the woman in her.

‘Have I told you how incredibly beautiful you are tonight?’ he said thickly. ‘No, don’t answer. And don’t come any closer. I’ve changed my mind about undressing you. I want you to do it for me.’

Her eyes widened.

‘Don’t be shy. You must know you’ve nothing to be shy about. No, not the shoes; leave the shoes on. The belt first. Then the dress—but not over your head. Undo the zip then slide it off your shoulders.’

She did as he asked, her hands shaking, her heart thudding so fast and so loudly behind her ribs she thought it must surely go into cardiac arrest. By the time she reached to push the dress off her shoulders, her whole body was trembling. The thought of standing there before him in nothing but a black satin thong and a pair of high heels was both daunting and horribly exciting. As her fingers curled over the edge of the neckline, her nipples tightened further, as did her belly.

And then it was done, the red silk dress pooling at her feet with a soft whooshing sound. Her spine and shoulders straightened as he stared at her, and for a long moment neither of them moved or spoke.

But then he sighed. ‘I’m not sure one night is going to be enough,’ he muttered in gravelly tones.

She should not have been thrilled by his words, but she was.

‘Come here,’ he commanded.

Where did she find the courage to walk almost naked towards him?

Possibly courage wasn’t an issue when she was so turned on that nothing mattered any more except that his eyes stay fixed on her bared breasts.

Which they did.

‘Stop,’ he commanded again when she was within arm’s reach of him.

She stopped, her heartbeat momentarily suspended as she waited for him to reach out and touch her. When he did—brushing the back of one hand across her stunningly erect nipples—a lightning rod of electricity zapped through her body, making her gasp.

‘Turn around,’ was his next surprising order.

She teetered a little on her high heels as she did so.

‘Steady,’ he directed, taking a firm hold of her shoulders from behind. ‘Now, move your legs apart a little.’

Such a small, insignificant movement but, oh, what incredible feelings it evoked. She’d never felt so wicked. Or so wanton.

Her head literally spun. Was this the kind of thing he did with all his women? Stripped them, not just of their clothes but their conscience and their pride? No, no, that last bit wasn’t right; her pride wasn’t at risk here. She didn’t feel in any way humiliated by the things he’d asked her to do. She’d seen the admiration flare in his eyes when he’d looked over her near-naked body. Laura had felt perversely proud of herself at that moment, perhaps because she knew he’d looked upon more beautiful bodies than hers. Yet he still seemed to find her very desirable.

I’m not sure one night is going to be enough , he’d said.

Not enough for her either, she suspected, if this was his idea of foreplay. What next? she wondered as an erotic tremor trickled down her spine to where her tightly held buttocks were quivering with anticipation.

He suddenly pressed himself up against her back, his left hand dropping from her shoulder to take possession of her left breast, whilst his right hand slid across to push her hair back from her face and neck. Her head tipped sideways when he put his mouth so close to her ear that his hot breath made her shudder.

‘I think,’ he murmured, ‘That it’s time to go to bed now. What do you think, beautiful?’

‘I can’t think at all,’ she returned shakily. And wasn’t that the truth!

‘God, but I love seeing you like this,’ he ground out, cupping her chin and twisting her head far enough around so that their eyes could meet.

‘Like what?’

‘All hot and bothered.’ His eyes glittered down at her whilst he moved his outstretched palm back and forth across her by-then exquisitely sensitised nipple.

A tortured moan escaped her parted lips. ‘You are a libertine,’ she accused breathlessly.

‘Not quite,’ he retorted. ‘But I could easily become one tonight.’

Ryan struggled for control as he scooped her up and carried her over to the bed. He struggled to calm his flesh, which was clammering wildly for a quick release. Not just quick—savage. He wanted to throw her onto that bed, rip off her panties and just ram himself into her.

Rough sex, however, was not something Ryan ever entertained. He prided himself on being an imaginative lover, but always a tender one. He never indulged in anything which smacked of violence. The thought of making a woman cry out with pain was anathema to him.

Okay, so some women liked it rough, he reminded himself as he laid her down across the bed. But he couldn’t imagine that Laura would be one of them. Clearly she had believed, up until this life-changing moment, that she needed to be in love to enjoy sex. Which was a fallacy, of course. Sex was a basic human function much the same as eating and sleeping; you didn’t need to be in love to enjoy either of those. Ryan had never been in love in his life and he sure as hell enjoyed all three.

Despite knowing deep down that he was making a big mistake taking a work colleague to bed— business and pleasure don’t mix, remember? —Ryan told himself that he might actually do Laura a good turn by proving that sex and love didn’t have to be joined at the hip. After all, it wasn’t healthy for her to continue living without a man in her life. Her responses tonight had already shown him that she wasn’t the ice queen she’d been pretending to be with him these past two years. Far from it.

By the time he sat down beside her on the bed and reached for her left foot, Ryan had almost convinced himself that what he was about to do had a noble side to it.

Almost …

Laura clenched her teeth hard in her jaw as Ryan slowly undid the ankle strap on her shoe then eased it off her foot. Where did he learn to touch a woman like that so softly and so gently? She would have thought a goalkeeper’s hands would be harder and rougher. But, no, they had the sensitivity and the skill of a surgeon. Every time one of his fingertips touched her flesh, an electric current ran up her legs.

‘I’ve always admired your dainty feet with their slender ankles,’ he said as he dropped the shoe onto the bedside rug and moved onto her other foot. ‘And, whilst I adore these particular shoes, I can’t risk leaving them on right now. The thought of your digging their lethal-looking heels into my back does not appeal.’

When an image popped into Laura’s head of exactly how she might manage to dig her heels into Ryan’s back, her heartbeat went from a fast trot to a wild gallop, her mouth falling open as she sucked in some much-needed air. But when the second shoe was dispensed with and his hands started travelling up her legs she found herself holding her breath once again. By the time he made it to the tops of her thighs, she had to breathe or die.

Her gasp brought his eyes to her flushed face.

‘These have to go as well, Laura,’ he told her, hooking his fingers under the sides of her panties and peeling them down her legs, all the while holding her eyes.

At last, he looked at her there.

By then Laura found it impossible to speak.

She was dying for him to touch her more intimately, but dreading it too. She knew she would be wet down there. She could feel it.

‘Ryan,’ she managed to blurt out when his finger moved perilously close.

Too late. He was there, and it felt incredible.