Kate Hewitt - Bad Blood

He heard the sudden snatch of her breath and felt her fingers dig hard into his shoulders. When he skimmed her breasts with tongue and fingers, she moaned under him, the sensuous movement of her hips unleashing a ravenous hunger inside him.

Nathaniel lost all sense of time and place.

His brain shut down and he responded with pure animal instinct.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he breached the barrier of her underwear and explored her slick softness with bold, gentle fingers. He felt her stiffen beneath him and then she shoved hard at his chest.

‘No.’

He heard her through a dark mist of ferocious, primal need.

‘Nathaniel, no—’

It was the tone that registered, rather than the words. That and the sharp bite of her nails in his shoulders.

Lifting his head, he stared into green eyes glazed with the same need that tore through him. He tried to speak but there was only one part of him that seemed to be working. Nathaniel licked his lips, realising that he hadn’t just found distraction, he’d found oblivion.

Shaken by his own lack of control, he rolled away from her. ‘Sorry,’ he drawled. ‘Blame it on the padding. For the record, it’s in all the right places.’

What had happened to him?

Seriously unsettled, he stared up at the canopy that draped the four-poster bed in soft creamy folds. Romance , he thought. The whole damn room was designed for romance and happy endings. And there wasn’t a happy ending within a million miles of him.

Nathaniel sprang to his feet and strolled towards the door. ‘I came to tell you dinner is served.’

‘Nathaniel—’

Behind him, he could hear the rustle of fabric as she pulled on her dress. He didn’t turn. Because he didn’t know what had happened, he couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t happen again.

His hand on the door handle, he gave a smile of self-mockery. ‘I’ll see you on the terrace, wardrobe.’

‘Nathaniel, for goodness’ sake, wait!’ There was a soft thud as her feet hit the floor. ‘You can’t just—We nearly—Damn it, do you ever talk about anything ?’

Not if he could help it . He turned to look at her and then wished he hadn’t because her hair was mussed and sexy and her mouth was softly bruised from his kisses.

‘Do you have to talk about everything ?’

‘Not everything—’ she looked confused, exasperated ‘—but you just … we just—’

‘But we didn’t.’ Nathaniel opened the door. ‘You said no. I stopped. End of conversation.’

‘No, it isn’t the end of the conversation!’ She stalked over to him. ‘ Why did you kiss me?’

‘You were lying semi-naked in provocative underwear on an enormous bed.’

‘So your criteria for having sex with someone is that you like their underwear. Don’t you ever want to get to know someone?’

No, never .

Nathaniel took advantage of the open door. ‘Dinner,’ he murmured, ‘is definitely served.’

KATIE felt dizzy and light-headed, as if her body might float off at any moment.

It didn’t help to tell herself that his job had taught him how to make a kiss hot and seductive and how to make a woman feel irresistible. Nor did it help to remind herself that she’d been half naked, which was sufficient provocation for a red-blooded male like Nathaniel Wolfe.

In fact, nothing helped.

She still felt … desirable.

Sneaking a look at him through the flickering candles that lit the dinner table, she saw that he was staring at a point in the distance, his dark brows locked in a brooding frown.

Unobserved, Katie looked at his mouth. How many times had she watched him on the big screen and wondered how it would feel to be kissed by him?

Now she had her answer. It felt incredible .

She had to remind herself it wasn’t real. If she fooled herself that he’d been carried away by passion, then she’d be forgetting her own theories. He was an actor. He could play any part he chose.

Awkward with the extended silence, she spoke. ‘I read the play ….’

‘Play?’ His blank look made her realise how distracted he was.

‘Your play.’

‘Right.’ His face cleared. ‘If you were gripped enough to read it in your knickers, presumably you liked it. Any ideas?’

Determined not to show him how much that one kiss had flustered her, Katie beamed at Ben as he served chargrilled vegetables. ‘Yum. That looks delicious, thanks. You spoil me.’

Ben returned the smile. ‘I’ll be hovering right here if there’s anything you need, Miss Katie.’

‘No, you won’t.’ Nathaniel’s voice was silky smooth. ‘If we need anything, we’ll call you.’

As Ben discreetly melted away, Katie rolled her eyes and picked up her fork. ‘Do people always do exactly what you want?’

‘Evidently not,’ he purred, ‘or right now you would be naked on that bed underneath me and we’d be indulging in a form of communication that certainly doesn’t require conversation.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with conversation.’

‘Fine. So let’s talk. Tell me why you always wear brown.’

‘I happen to like the colour brown.’

He leaned forward, his gaze disturbingly acute. ‘Why don’t you like having your picture taken?’

‘Not everyone is born an exhibitionist.’

‘Here’s a hint—’ he spoke softly ‘—when you’re lying, you need to look someone in the eye and act sincere. You, Katie Field, are an appalling liar. And you have your secrets, just like anyone else.’ He lifted his glass and took a mouthful of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.

Not secrets, she thought. Insecurities. It wasn’t the same thing.

Their eyes held and she felt the blood pound in her ears.

But he had secrets, that much was obvious. And she suspected they were dark secrets. Secrets he didn’t share with anyone.

What surprised her was how much she wanted him to share them.

How much she wanted to provide a listening ear .

He was looking at her with those spectacular eyes and suddenly talking and listening were the last things on her mind. It was obvious that he was thinking about that kiss. And so was she.

Her pulse thudding dangerously fast, Katie put down her fork. Seeking a safe subject, she chose acting. ‘Tell me more about how you prepared for the part of Alpha Man.’

She half expected him to refuse, but he relaxed back in his chair and proceeded to regale her with stories about filming. He was witty and sharp, his observations about his cast members so wickedly incisive that she found herself laughing even though she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to fall under his spell.

He was such amusing company that it was only after the last of the plates had been cleared away that she realised he still hadn’t revealed anything personal. The whole evening had been spent talking about other people.

‘So, how about you, little Miss Talkalot.’ He leaned across and topped up her wine glass. ‘How did you end up designing costumes? School play?’

Make me something to wear, Katie .

‘Way before the school play.’ She dismissed her sister’s petulant voice from her head. ‘I always loved costumes. Clothes. I used to make my own dolls’ clothes. We didn’t have that much money so I used scraps of fabric and old buttons from Mum’s sewing kit. I hovered around thrift stores, car boot sales—anything I could find. My friends and I used to play Hollywood.’ Afraid she was boring him to death, she broke off and took a sip of her drink.

‘You used to play Hollywood?’

‘We’d pretend we were a film studio. Martha was the director.’ Katie grinned at the memory. ‘She was the bossy one. Then there was Emily—she was the drama queen so she always had the leading part. Sally and Jenny took whichever parts Emily didn’t want.’ And then there was her sister, Paula. I have to be the princess. I’m the prettiest .