HE HAD NO COMMON SENSE left when it came to Sophie. He wasn’t the possessive, controlling sort. Far from it. And yet there was no denying she’d roused a little of both in him, without even trying. Okay, maybe more than a little. And despite telling himself that he wasn’t going to touch her again, his hands were all over her, as was his mouth. That’s where he’d wanted them to be, if he were completely honest, since shortly after he’d blinked his eyes open at the crack of dawn this morning to find her crouching by his bed, her hand shoved into the chair cushion, and a guilty expression all over her incredibly adorable face.
He didn’t even know her, not in any real sense, but what he did know was as intriguing as it was intoxicating. She had a smart mouth and oh-so-vulnerable gray eyes. She was confident and clever, and yet a more self-deprecating woman he’d never met. She seemed to think she was invisible, and yet she had the body of siren and the face of an angel. He couldn’t find any equilibrium around her, much less exhibit even the least bit of rational thought. She’d left him aroused, disconcerted, anxious and a little pissed off. All of which—the fact that she could even do that to him—bothered him. Pacing the floor while she was gone, being more nervous, scared even, than he could ever recall being, had only amped up those emotions.
And as he slid his hand under her to tug at the zipper, he knew he wasn’t going to be rational about this anytime soon. Maybe if he got a taste of her, it would help him to put her—this—in perspective, to get some kind of balance back, get himself back into the mind-set he absolutely had to be in, if he was going to outwit Tolliver and get Guinn his damn emerald. Back to where he’d been right up until the moment he’d caught her breaking into his room.
Her hands were slipping around his waistband as she pulled his shirt the rest of the way free, and his body leaped to full, erect attention. He stopped tangling with her zipper and pulled her hands away, pinning them next to her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glittering with desire and sheer joy, and he’d never, ever, wanted anything or anyone so badly in his entire life.
He let out a long sigh.
“Don’t,” she said, wariness creeping into her expression.
“I don’t want to stop,” he assured her.
“Simple solution. Don’t.”
“I’m being completely honest when I say that I’ve never wanted to continue, with such great enthusiasm, and for as long as I could hold out, possibly ever.”
“Don’t let me interrupt, then.”
“Sophie—”
“Simon.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “You are impossibly enticing.”
She laughed at that, a purely delighted sound that only served to bring him to an even more urgent state.
“Why, because I say your name in a pleading whine?”
“Because you look like innocence personified, and yet…” He slid his hands down her arms, and along the ample curves of her body. “You feel like the most sinful thing I’ve ever—”
“Simon,” she said, only this time her eyes had drifted shut, and her voice had taken on a distinct needy, breathy quality as she arched into him, urging him to continue his exploration.
“I have work to do,” he said, his hands still moving down along the sides of her hips, along her thighs. His body begged for release. “Serious, important work.”
“I know. And I’m still willing to help.”
“Don’t be,” he said, leaning in and taking a long, lingering taste of the slender white column of her neck, so beautifully presented to him as she arched further, pushing her head back into the mattress.
He didn’t want to think about what he’d done, what he’d gotten her to do. He just wanted more of this…this mindless exploration, this giving in to the basic demands of need and want. He should be worried about what she’d expect afterward, from him, but realized, in that moment, that he was far more concerned with what he’d want. From her.
His mind hung on that, even as he slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her ridiculous uniform up as he went. He moved his body down over hers, trailing nips and kisses along her now exposed shoulder, which was just as damnably soft and sweet as the rest of what he’d discovered thus far.
There could be no relationship, of course. Their lives were far too divergent. She seemed to be okay, taking this for what it was, a crazy chance encounter that they, two consenting adults, were simply taking full advantage of. Why he couldn’t get his head in that same place, he had no idea. But he knew, the more carnal knowledge he had of Sophie, the more knowledge he’d crave, of all kinds. Anything to do with her, her wants, needs, hopes, dreams, he’d want to know all about it. Hell, he already did.
She was writhing now, as his hands slipped up over her hips, under the uniform skirt, only to discover something quite flimsy and lacy. He didn’t know why that surprised him. She was, in every way, intensely female. He supposed it was her no-nonsense talk, the way she viewed the world and had no problem expressing those views and expecting others to concur with her adroit conclusions. She wasn’t always careful with her mouth, and he liked that about her. Dear God, he liked all kinds of things about that mouth. Her tongue, so sharp at times, so at odds with her innocent Bambi eyes and pale, soft skin. He wanted her to do all kinds of things with that tongue.
Then there was the rest of her body, made for a man to sink himself into, every aching inch. He could only imagine how bloody fantastic she was going to feel wrapped around him, holding him deep inside her, and he wanted to find that out more than he wanted his next breath. Which, given how hard his heart was pounding, was becoming increasingly difficult, the more he explored.
He slid farther down as he pushed the skirt up higher still, until he could see the soft pink cotton, trimmed with lace, and a tiny bow, right where he wanted to press a deep kiss…before moving lower. He kissed just below her navel, making her gasp and pump her hips. He wrapped his hands around her hips, his fingers sinking into the softness of her lush backside as he urged her upward, and pulled at the tiny bow with his teeth.
“Simon,” she said, the word more gasp than anything.
“Mmm” was all he could manage, as he breathed in the scent of her, so ready for him, for everything he wanted to do to her, with her.
He tugged at the bow with his teeth, pulling it down, using his hands to slide the tiny straps down over the soft flesh of her hips and thighs.
She gasped and her hips jolted when he kissed her intimately, then she groaned in deep appreciation as he slid his tongue over her…and deep into her. Her hips jerked, then quickly found a rhythm with his strokes, short, heavy gasps alternated with long, appreciative moans, until she was writhing beneath him, slender fingers buried in his hair, holding on for sweet life as he took her, trembling, shaking, over the edge. He pressed kisses along the soft skin of her inner thigh as the quakes continued to roll over and through her, deeply gratified that he’d brought her such pleasure. He looked up, expecting to find her head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, only to find her looking steadily at him, lips parted, and a somewhat stunned expression on her lovely face.
A warmth filled him then, a kind of pervasive spreading of joy that was quite insidious. Yes, he’d given her an orgasm. First try. Not bad. In fact, he was damn happy, and hopeful for a repeat performance. But that wasn’t what the joy was all about. More an aftereffect, proof of what he’d already suspected. Which was that partnering Sophie—in anything—was likely to always be an enlightening and particularly satisfying endeavor.
Then she let him go and reached for his shoulders, sinking her fingers in and trying to pull him up. “Come here,” she said, her voice all husky and sweet. “You give great prelude, you know, but there’s more. The more you might be particularly interested in.”
“Sophie, wait—”
“I couldn’t be a safer partner,” she assured him. “I’d show you my medical records, but that might kill the mood a bit, given I don’t carry them on me. I know you have no reason to just believe—”
“That’s not it.”
She tipped up her head and looked at him. “Then what is it? If it’s protection, well, I’m safe there, too, I—”
“That’s not it. I mean, I have that covered. Or would. Will. In a manner of speaking.”
She smiled a little at that. “Good to know.”
Oh, but he wanted to consume her, every sweet, smart, sassy, kind, trusting, wary, innocent, perfect inch of her. “What I meant was that…” He trailed off, realizing there were far more things he wanted to say to her, tell her, than were wise. Especially in a moment like this. “I wanted to…” He kissed her inner thigh, then nudged closer, then kissed her right where it made her hips arch again, made her gasp. “Again,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you could, and I rather liked taking you there the first time, so…”
She stopped tugging at his shoulders and gave herself over to his questing tongue. “Seriously?”
He laughed at that. And it felt damn fantastic. He grinned against the inside of her thigh. “Quite, actually.”
“Are all Kiwis as…generous as you?” she panted, writhing, as he continued his sweet assault.
“Can’t speak for them. Only for myself.” He lifted his head, just briefly, to look up at her, so enticing and stunningly beautiful, sprawling naked, waiting for him. She was so responsive, so…perfect. “Are the men of your acquaintance that lacking?”
“Let’s just say that a man with your looks and charm isn’t generally expected to have a you-first mentality in bed.”
“I believe I’ve been insulted.” In response, she sunk her hands into his hair and moved his mouth back where she wanted it. He chuckled…but did as commanded. And when she came again, they both groaned throughout her sweet release.
She reached for him as he pushed himself up farther, until he was lying next to her.
She tucked her leg over his and the entire movement had a familiarity to it that caught at that same part of him that she’d been so effortlessly snagging since he’d busted her foray into a life of crime.
“I was just saying,” she said, flushed and still short of breath as she pushed his hair from his face with delicate fingertips, “that if it were normal for men of your ilk to be generous in bed, I wouldn’t have been so surprised.”
“I have ilk?”
She pushed at him and he responded by rolling her to her back and sliding on top of her. “All I know,” he said, “is that making you climax is sexy as bloody hell, and speaking quite selfishly, my ilk and I thoroughly enjoyed the repeat performance.”
“You know what I think?” she said, as she shoved his pants down.
He kissed the tip of her nose, shifting off her just long enough to strip the rest of the way down. She was tugging him back before his clothes hit the floor, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Truly, she was irresistible. “What do you think?”
She shifted under him so she was between his thighs. “I think it’s time your ilk stopped talking and started— Oh.” She tipped her head back and arched sharply up to meet his first thrust, which filled her perfectly, if the way she held him was any indication. “Right. That.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, smiling as he kissed the side of her neck, and started moving inside her. How she could amuse him and make him so hard it hurt, all at the same time, he had no idea. And, at the moment, didn’t much care. Being deep inside Sophie was like sinking into heaven. In fact, he could happily die right then. Well, perhaps a few moments beyond right then. He moved faster…deeper. She urged him to push harder as she dragged her uniform the rest of the way up and over her head.
He slowed when she wriggled to get at her bra. “Stop,” he told her, then shifted just enough so he could cover the hard tip of her nipple, straining against the soft pink silk of her bra, with his lips. Her body quivered and he almost lost it right then.
“Simon—”
“Mmm, Sophie,” he said, then shifted back up and took her mouth in a deep, fast, hard kiss. A kiss that didn’t end, but kept on. And on. As did he. And she met him every thrust of the way. Perfectly.
It was hearing her climb yet again, feeling her tighten further around him, her entire body beginning to shudder beneath him, that drove him straight to the edge.
“Simon,” she whispered, then urged his tongue into her mouth, and took him over.
He held on to her as both of their bodies shook with the force of it. He tried to shift his weight off her, but she pulled him straight back down again. “Stay,” she asked.
And he did. He didn’t want to be anywhere else. Not right then. What came next…he tried not to think about that part.
“What?” she asked, already far more in tune to the subtleties of his body than seemed possible. And yet, didn’t he feel the same about hers?
“Nothing.” He smiled. “My ilk thanks you. Most intently.”
He felt her smile against the side of his neck. “As soon as the world stops spinning and I’m at least somewhat certain I’ll regain the use of all my faculties, I’d like to thank your ilk. Personally. And with enormous gratitude.”
He was grinning as he slid from her and rolled to his side, taking her with him. She curled into him as if made exclusively for that space. And, just like that, his heart squeezed and thrust him into the next moment, one he was ill prepared for, and, at the moment, defenseless against. That moment where he didn’t want to let her go. Where he was forced to acknowledge that he wanted a whole lot more. And not just sex.
“Simon,” she said, quietly now, sounding contemplative.
“That was…you are…” He stopped, knowing he sounded like a babbling fool, and not wanting to risk giving voice to even the slightest bit of what he was feeling at that moment. Later, when he was away from her, and back in his right mind, he’d put this all in perspective. At the moment, he knew he was well and truly compromised, not himself, thinking the crazy thoughts of a man who’d just had the most fabulous, satisfying sex of his life, and was understandably feeling more than was really there.
Which was utter bullshit. He knew what this was, and what this wasn’t.
And this wasn’t just a quick toss.
He’d known before he’d kissed her that any amount of time spent with Sophie was not going to be enough.
“Don’t let reality intrude,” she said softly. “Not just yet.”
“Would that be so bad?” he said, and realized then he was doomed. He wasn’t going to keep quiet, he was going to go down in flames. Idiot.
She lifted her head, looking worried now. “Don’t.”
“Sophie—”
“Just enjoy this moment, Simon. We both know this can’t be about anything else. Well, other than the whole partners in crime part.”
“You’re out of that. I’ll take care of the situation with Tolliver some other way.”
She sighed a little, and he felt a bit of the tension leave her body, and not in a good way. “And then what?” She closed her eyes. “Don’t answer that.”
He brushed a kiss across her lips. “And then we find out what comes next.”
“Things that are too good to be true usually are,” she said, her voice a whisper now.
He shifted so he could look more directly into her eyes. “Sophie, I want you to know—”
She pushed at him then, and caught him by surprise just enough to wiggle away from him before he could stop her. She slipped off the bed and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door immediately behind her.
Simon rolled to his back and sighed deeply. Idiot indeed. “Sophie, come back.”
She didn’t reply. All he heard were some shuffling sounds and a few little grunts. He’d just sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, considering if he should go in after her, when the door opened and she stepped out, fully dressed in the clothes he’d first met her in. Her hair was a bit wild, and her cheeks were flushed, but her lips were compressed in a straight, no-nonsense line. And he wanted to part them with his tongue just as badly now as he had before.
“I think I made an error in judgment,” she said, and for the first time, he didn’t have a quick response. Mostly due to the sudden pressure squeezing his chest. Despite the fact that she had every reason to believe what she’d said, it still hurt to hear the words.
“Not in trying to help you,” she quickly added. “I’ll always help someone who needs it if I can. I don’t think I’m built to look the other way. But…but, even though I really, really wanted to think I could, I’m also not built to just have a fling and enjoy the moment. Much as I wish it were otherwise.” She glanced down. “Really, really wish.” She looked up again, and her eyes were overly bright. “And even thinking that you might…” She shook her head.
Hurting her was the very last thing he’d want to do. “Sophie, I’m sorry. For a lot of what has happened between us, in regards to the situation I’m involved in. But I won’t apologize about what we did here on this bed.”
“Maybe if we’d just done it and stayed in the moment. But then you mentioned what comes next and I realized that’s exactly how I’m built. To want more, to want it all. And the fantasy was gone and I wanted it for real, and it hurt—a lot, too much for so soon—” She stopped abruptly and looked away, biting her lower lip, which he noted was trembling. Hard.
He reached over the end of the bed and scooped up his own clothes, quickly slipping on his pants before crossing the room to stand before her. “I understand why you stopped me, even if I wish more than anything you hadn’t.” He cupped her face, tilted it up to his. “But I had to be honest with you, Sophie. It might not have mattered with someone else. Maybe anyone else. But it matters with you. I do want more. I just haven’t a clue how to make that work, and maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But I couldn’t just pretend it was meaningless. I didn’t want you to think that it was.”
She was trembling all over now. He felt horrible. He didn’t know what else to say. There were no promises he could make. He could only be honest. “I wish I could just have taken what was there and walked away, happy for the chance to get what I could.” He pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her hair. “I guess I’m not made that way, either.”
She leaned into him, her cheek pressed against his chest, and all he knew was that he wanted her there. Right there. And the idea of her walking out that door—forever—was completely unacceptable.
And yet, what else could he offer her? As soon as he had the emerald, he was heading home, back across the pond. Her life was here.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then broke free from his arms and walked to the door of his room.
He took two steps after her, more out of instinct, to stop the feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest, when she suddenly turned around and walked back to him. And the instinctive, automatic jolt of joy that shot through him was indescribable.
He reached for her, not caring, in that moment, what happened next, just happy it still included her. But she stopped short, ripped the lanyard with her key card over her head and pressed it into his hand. “Use this if you need to. Good luck. I— Goodbye, Simon.”
And then she was gone.