Elizabeth Oldfield - Fast And Loose

‘I have, but he wouldn’t have bedded me.’ A picture of the star’s self-satisfied swagger and oily smile swam before her. ‘Jed Horwood would not have laid one finger on me,’ Darcy declared forcefully.

‘Not like I did,’ Keir murmured, and his blue eyes tangled with hers, ‘when you were a virgin.’

A TIDE of hot colour swept up her face. Seven years melted away and, once again, Darcy was back in Keir’s bedroom at the Brierly Hotel, sitting on his knee in her low-cut dress and shamelessly flirting. As she had slid her fingers inside his shirt and touched the curls of coarse hair on his chest he had stroked her breasts.

At the memory she felt her nipples pinch and tighten. She was aware of that blissful ache. Abruptly Darcy remembered the silky top that she was wearing and how it clung like a second skin to her body. Ye gods, Keir wouldn’t notice her flagrant nipples, would he?

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