Enemy Lovers (4 page)

“To where?”

“To my pussy.” She heard the primness in her voice even as she catalogued his sexy grin.

“Watch me undress.”

“My pleasure.” Her response came automatically. The right one because satisfaction settled on his features.

She sat up in the bed, letting the covers pool to her lap. The flare of interest in his eyes as his gaze hit her breasts was a warm balm, gratifying and enjoyable.

His movements were economical. Graceful and sexy. The cable sweater went first. He folded it and placed the garment on top of a wooden chest. The loss of his shirt revealed a muscular chest with a light sprinkling of hair.
Nice
. It arrowed downward and disappeared into his jeans.

Dallas unfastened his belt, focusing her attention on his groin.

“Laura, look at me. Hold my gaze.” His voice was low, raspy, gentle even, but it
was
an order.

Her gaze skimmed his belly, upward across his pectoral muscles to finally reach his face. It was hard to hold his gaze when he seemed to see deep inside her…places she'd prefer to keep on the hush-hush. The idea he might ferret out her secret fears and hopes scared her, made her want to lower her lids for privacy. But there was also an urge to please him, to follow his request to discover where it might lead.

It was such a small thing.

All she had to do was look at him, drink in his sexiness and let the heat of him, his innate sensuality slide through her veins. She swallowed, finding obeying without question more difficult than she'd hoped.

The rest of his clothing rustled as he removed each item, one at a time. Expectation unfolded, her senses stretching in search of information. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, her breasts prickling with a combination of the chill and acute anticipation.

If this was a lesson, she was learning it well.

Delayed gratification magnified the prize waiting at the end. It made every one of her senses crackle. She shivered when he rounded the bed. Still she maintained his gaze, unable to shear it because he'd caught her—a Drummond fish in an O'Grady net.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Now I want you to close your eyes and wait for me.”

A shiver worked through her, heated and pulsed in her sex. Her muscles craved movement, yet she didn't wriggle. Instead, she followed his instructions, waited.

A drawer opened, shut. Her pulse sped, picking up in pace while different scenarios chased through her mind. He could leave her hanging or take photos and spread them across the 'net. He might choose an axe or the perfect knife to slit her throat—

Good grief. That one was a bit out there. He'd spoken to the local cop. The policeman had seen them together. No, Dallas didn't intend to murder her in his own bed.

“Um, how are you with blood?” she asked.

“Not bad. Why?” His raspy voice sounded right next to her ear.

She flinched, her gasp loud, shocked. While she was inventing murderous scenarios, he'd walked around the bed and climbed in with her. She hadn't heard a thing.

“Um, I was wondering if you intended to do away with me. Then I thought about the cop we spoke with earlier, so I figured murder wasn't on the cards.”

“Did you have nightmares as a kid?”

Luckily he didn't sound angry. Instead, amusement came through loud and clear.

“My mother thinks imagination is unbecoming to a lady.”

“For my purposes, using your sexy mind is a good thing. It means I can play you and drive you to distraction before I allow you pleasure.”

“For the record, I'm not good with blood. I considered nursing but a cut on my brother's leg shot down that aspiration. I took one horrified look at all the red stuff, fainted and hit my head. I still have a scar on my scalp.”

“Do you chatter when you're nervous?”

“It appears so,” she said.

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

The confidence in his voice went a long way to quashing her runaway fears. The talking helped too. She always surrounded herself with noise, even when she was alone she had the television on or music playing. “Okay. That's good.”

“This first time I'm going to tell you everything I intend to do before I do it.”

She nodded, and when he didn't speak, she said, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” A rustling sounded, and she cocked her head to hear better. “I want you to lie with your back flat on the mattress and your legs parted. Are you feeling cold?”

“No.” Laura squirmed down and positioned her body as he'd directed. The cool air washed against her heated pussy, the contrast not unpleasant.

“I have a tub of special cream. Once the cream heats, it will stimulate your nerve endings. I'm going to kiss you and then we'll get to the good stuff.”

“Goodie.” She peeked, blinked a couple of times, searching his face. This wasn't a face intent on murder or anything except pleasure. Her gaze darted the length of his body and what she saw reassured her. His cock was full and aroused, the ruddy cap shiny with pre-come.

“Look at me, Laura.”

Oops
, he'd caught her. Her gaze went to his face, and his mouth quirked at the corners.

“I'm not fond of blood either.”

“Good to know.”

Before she could say more, his mouth covered hers. The kiss started slow, a gentle mating of lips, little by little gaining momentum until his tongue was sliding into her mouth, stroking hers and shoving her deep into temptation. All she could do was hold on and ride the wild sensations. She'd been kissed before, but this was more.
Better
. It was decadent chocolate. It was sin laced with Dallas and very, very addictive.

When he lifted his head, her body cried for more—more touches, more of him. Talk about skill. Sadly, the physical contact didn't seem to rock him with the same fierce detonations. She wanted to dwell on the fact, consider what it meant, but he raced ahead, producing his tub of special cream.

When he removed the lid, the scent of carnations filled the air. He dipped in his finger and took a small amount.

“Ready?”

“You're asking me?”

“I can see you're going to be a challenge.”

A zip of sensation sizzled along her veins. “Isn't it your job to make sure I do what you tell me?”
Holy Hannah. Had she said that?

He stilled, his finger hovering above her nipple. “You have to want me to take charge.”

“Why?” Something in his hard stare told her if she didn't want that then she was wasting their time. She considered the endless days that were her life. The constant struggle for independence. The truth was she was tired of fighting. It would be so nice to trust someone once in a while and just…just drift.

A tiny voice piped up.
Isn't that what you'd be doing with Dallas?

While she was still trying to puzzle out her tangle of desires and needs and feelings about Dallas's take-charge manner, he lowered his finger to her nipple. Instantly, a tingle burst into sensual song. The shiver deepened until it nipped her breast with invisible teeth. A gasp broke free as she struggled for equilibrium.

“Breathe,” he whispered and gave her other nipple the same slow application of cream. “Take deep, slow breaths for me.”

His blue eyes held reassurance and she threw herself in the direction of gut instinct. She wanted to trust him even though he was the enemy. If she hadn't pushed this, flirted with him, she'd be sitting in front of the fire having a civil conversation while counting the minutes until the storm abated.

She sucked in a breath and released it on a sigh. His approval shone on his face, even though he didn't say anything. Another breath. The prickles of heat coalesced to a big, shining ball of want. Crazy want. Torturous want.
Desperate
want.

“That's it,” he whispered.

Dallas smoothed a lock of her hair away from her face, the gesture tender and strangely disconcerting. Laura couldn't help but trust him. The last lingering traces of her reserve floated away. Although time would have to prove it to her, instinct informed her Dallas O'Grady was a good man.

He dropped a swift kiss on her smiling lips, one that left her craving more of his touches. He tweaked her nipple with finger and thumb, the shooting ache pulling a gasp from deep in her throat. At the same time, he slipped a hand between her legs, fingers skimming her clit. This time her gasp was loud, surprised. His finger bore remnants of the cream, and on contact, her secret places jumped to a salute.

When she hungered for more, his fingers and his mouth, he drew back. Her flesh prickled, a combination of cool air and urgency doing a rumba through her veins.

“Dallas?”

“I know, sweetheart. Let me get a condom.” His husky voice reassured her, as did the casual touch of his hand at her hip. The mattress shifted under his weight.

Laura didn't move a muscle. Instead, she listened to her body in a way she'd never done before Dallas. A pulse of energy gathered low in her belly while acute anticipation quick-stepped through her mind.
Dallas
. She'd never wanted a man with the same urgency she wanted Dallas.

He returned and moved over her, caging her between his hard body and the mattress while holding his weight on his forearms. Such sexy arms. His biceps bulged with strength. He made her feel dainty, even though no one could her call her a waif. He made her feel confident. Sexy.
He made her want
.

“Are you ready?” His breath was warm against her ear.

“Yes.”

With casual ease, he guided his cock to her and in one determined thrust, he filled her. He sighed, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth while his heavy cock throbbed deep inside her pussy. When she thought he'd start moving, he stayed in place, the base of his cock notched against her pulsing clit. The dragging tension had gone on a quick holiday, and she wriggled, trying to move, trying to get him to move.

“Stop. Do that again and the spanking you have in your future will happen a lot sooner.”

She froze, part of her shocked at the whoosh of heat on hearing his promise, because it was a statement of intention. Nothing namby-pamby about his declaration.

A spanking.

While she'd never thought of smacking as sexual, maybe she'd been too hasty. She stilled, almost desperate to see where sex with Dallas would lead. When she didn't move again, he settled in to kiss her again. A slow seduction, the tangling of mouths, the nip of her bottom lip. The man had a great repertoire, and she settled back to enjoy and follow his lead. It was liberating—this giving of control to Dallas.

Who knew?

When she didn't try to direct proceedings again, he started to move in measured, decisive strokes. The perfect blend of forceful and caring. She soared under his guidance, thrust into a world of stormy desire and freedom. Like a bird, she swooped and glided. Exhilaration swelled, blooming into something more, something bigger. Better.

He slipped a finger between their bodies, heading unerringly for her needy clit. One touch and pleasure jumped her like a mythical beast. She came in hard spasms, her moan rippling through the bedroom. He kissed her neck, heat emanating off his hard frame. Then he quickened his strokes—still measured but faster as if he were racing to a goal. A second mini explosion caught her, tossed her in a choppy sea of bliss.

He groaned, the masculine sound bringing a sense of achievement, and he powered into her now, quick, erratic digs before he stilled, his heartbeat a drum against her ribs.

Long moments later, he rolled off her, parting their sweaty bodies. He dealt with the condom, setting it on the floor before turning back to her. To her surprise, he drew her into his arms and cuddled her against his chest, running his hand in comforting strokes up and down her back.

Her previous lovers had always raced to leave once they'd got their rocks off. Dallas seemed content to hold her, touch her. How cool. She enjoyed this part. A lot.

If the rest of the weekend continued on this track, he might spoil her for other men.

Chapter Four

The woman was dangerous. He'd known from the moment she'd started her sass. He'd told himself to back away. Any hint of relationship with Laura Drummond was so far from right, he needed his head read by a professional. Yet now, with her naked body cuddled against his, none of reality mattered. They were a man and a woman intent on exploring pleasure.

“You make a very sexy rumble, deep in your throat when you come,” he said.

“I do?” She ran her fingers over his cheek. “I was too busy enjoying the hell out of myself to notice.”

He chuckled, the sound bursting from him without permission. He'd laughed more in the last few hours than he'd managed in months. His brothers would be glad…until they learned the source of his amusement.

“Are you hungry?”

“I think I am.” She sounded surprised.

“Good. Let's have a quick shower and make dinner. You can be sous chef.” His belly let out a demanding grumble. “I didn't have time for lunch.”

“Why not?”

“Business stuff. I had a meeting with a prospective tenant that went longer than I expected. I knew rain was forecast so I decided to get on the road instead of stopping to eat.”

“My mother told me I'd beat the storm.” She sent him an impish grin. It lit up her eyes and scrunched up her nose in a charming manner.

Ma Drummond wouldn't approve, but he felt something crack inside him. “You sound pleased to prove her wrong.” This was a fling. Hell, despite their written agreement, she wouldn't come anywhere near him once this storm cleared and the weekend ended.

“I take my victories when I can.”

Her irreverence was catchy. Dallas grinned and slapped her bottom, chuckling when she yelped a protest. “Come on, lazybones. If you hurry I'll scrub your back.”

“We won't both fit in the shower.”

“We will,” he said, pleased he'd gone to the expense of installing a wet room when he'd done the renovations on the cabin. He rolled out of bed and held out his hand. When she didn't hesitate, something warmed his heart. Despite her feistiness, despite her desire for independence, despite her Drummond heritage, Laura was perfect for him.

They could have fun together. Maybe prolong their agreement… No. No, this way was better. Given their family history, they couldn't form a permanent relationship. It was inviting trouble and punching it in the nose.

He led her to the bathroom and turned on the water. When the flow was body temperature, he drew her under the shower spigots.

“I didn't expect your cabin to have mod-cons. From the outside it appears basic.”

“That's the idea. I can't live here full time, and I didn't want to attract thieves. Most people judge from appearances.”

“Don't I know it.” The words held real frustration.

“Poor little rich girl?”

“More like, her daddy is rich. Make a move on her and you're set for life.”

“Ah, fortune hunters.”

She nodded as he reached for a handful of shower gel. The citrus and ginger scent soon surrounded them, heady and stimulating the senses. She arched her back when he ran his hands down her spine, shuddered when his hands went lower to squeeze her bottom.

“I thought you wanted to eat?”

“I do,” he said. “My stomach is starting to gnaw on my backbone.”

“And here my body has taken a direct turning into sexual territory.”

“Wrong direction.” Dallas battled his grin. “Engage the GPS, otherwise you'll get lost in the wilderness.”

“Part of me feels lost,” she said, turning in his arms. Water poured down her face while she stared at him. “This is uncharted territory for me.” The serious note in her voice made him look closer, try to decipher her thoughts.

“Do you want to sleep in the spare room?” The idea of her backing away filled him with trepidation. In the short time he'd known her, she'd wormed under his skin. Dangerous woman.

“No, I'm happy with the status quo,” she said, and her frank tone reassured him. “I enjoyed the hell out of the sex we just had, and I can't wait to experience more.”

“Hold that thought.” He appreciated candor in a woman, yet hadn't expected it from a Drummond.

“Let me wash you.” She squirted shower gel into her palms and ran soapy fingers over his shoulders, his chest and back. He let her cleanse him from head to foot, his gaze tracking her expression. She ran her fingers down to his groin, and predictably his dick reacted to her touch.

“Enough,” he said. “I'm serious about needing food. You don't want to ring the cops and tell them I've expired from hunger.”

“There, sparkly and clean again.” The imp took control of her face again, her brown eyes sparkling. She tilted her head back and reached around to pinch him on the butt.

Dallas jumped and her laugh rang out. He put on a stern face, when he wanted to crack up and cackle from sheer pleasure and happiness. “That is not correct behavior.”

She did a slow blink, a droplet of water dripping down her face. “Says who?”

She had him there. “I'll go and start dinner. Take your time.”

He stepped from under the water, grabbed a towel and rubbed himself dry. In his bedroom, he dressed. Time to break open a bottle of red wine.

Laura joined him about ten minutes later. “What do you want me to do?”

“Pour us a glass of wine. You drink red?”

“I do.”

A sizzle sounded when the onions hit the hot oil. He stirred them and accepted the glass of red wine from Laura.

“What do you know of the animosity between our families?” she asked. “I don't know much. My parents told me to stay away from those horrid O'Grady children at primary school and enforced the order often.”

“You went to a posh boarding school.”

“Yes, I did once I turned twelve, but during school holidays, I used to watch you and your brothers play rugby or swimming at the river.”

Dallas sent her an unbelieving stare. “You didn't.”

“I did,” she assured him. “I told myself that one day I'd pinch your ass to learn if it was as hard and firm as it looked.”

“You didn't,” he repeated.

“Oh, but I did, and now I know your butt feels very muscular indeed.”

“I have my own personal stalker.” He tossed crushed garlic into the pan and used a wooden spoon to jostle it around the heat.

She grinned. “What else should I do?”

“Sit at the breakfast bar and look pretty.”

She made a scoffing sound. “I hate being told to look pretty. I've heard it my entire life. ‘Keep your clothes clean, Laura.' ‘Don't make mud pies.' ‘You'll get dirty, Laura.' Do you know how much fun it is to play and get dirty?”

“Is that what this is about? You slumming with an O'Grady?”

“No.” Her tone was sharp. “It's a dirty weekend. It's fun, and I'm appeasing my curiosity. I've already learned you don't have horns and a tail, which makes me wonder what else my parents have lied about. I've discovered you're a gentleman. I like you.”

The pot of water he'd put on the other element came to the boil, and he added penne pasta.

“Tell me more about your pubs. Do you do meals?”

“We have a cook in each pub and do classic pub foods. Shepherd's pie. Steak and onion pie. Fish pie. Roast dinners on a Sunday.”

“Chips? I have a weakness for French fries but don't get to eat them often.”

“Your mother has a huge say on your meals.”

“I'm afraid so. She's big on salads.”

“Why do you let her and the rest of your family order you around?”

“Because they mean well. I know they love me, but they forget I'm an adult. I've told them I'm not a rabbit and require more than salad to keep me alive.”

He clicked the fingers of his right hand. “Damn, I was going to do a side salad to go with the pasta.”

She rolled her eyes. “The relevant word is
side
. I get to eat something else too.”

“What do you do in your spare time?”

“I read—mostly romances and mysteries. I enjoy movies and television. I'm a rugby fan although I haven't seen any live games. I wanted to play rugby, but my mother quashed the idea. She allowed me to play hockey and encouraged me to learn to golf.”

“Hockey and golf?”

“Hitting the ball got rid of some of my frustration.”

“I see. What else do you like doing?”

“I cook and could do dinner parties if I were allowed. I'm fine if I follow the recipe, but experimenting doesn't usually end well. I love music, although I have the voice of a frog. One day I intend to do more traveling. The little I've done to date has whetted my desire to explore more of the world. What about you?”

“I'm one of those horrid rugby players. I still play for a local team during the winter season when I can manage the time. I can sing, although I don't do it often. Travel—we have that in common, although I don't get time to do much due to the pubs.”

Dinner passed in conversation, with not a single awkward pause. Dallas wouldn't have thought they'd have such easiness, that she'd be so interested in his childhood years, his rugby team and the regulars at his pubs. They did the dishes together, then sat by the fire, drinking the last of the bottle of wine.

“What do you do when you're on your own here?”

“I catch up on sleep, watch a movie or do office work before it gets out of control. And I spent a lot of time renovating. My brothers helped when they were free.”

“So this is a male domain. I thought you'd have a different woman here every weekend.”

“If you're asking if this is where I entertain my harem, the answer is no.” Marie was the only woman who'd spent any time here, and she'd hated the isolation. It'd been a storm then too, and she'd panicked because the phone lines were down. She'd thought they were going to run out of food and die. She'd refused to visit the cabin again. “You're one of the few women I've had to visit.”

“I'm honored. When are we getting to the sex again?”

“When I'm ready.” He narrowed his eyes, stifling, yet again, his desire to laugh. “And not a moment before.”

“I obviously have the wrong idea about this agreement between us. I thought there'd be a lot more sex, enough to make me walk funny.”

“Come here,” he said in a decisive manner and set his glass aside.

She rose and came to him without hesitation. “Is it time now?”

“Yes. Pull down your sweatpants and your panties. No, leave your top half clothed.”

Her expression turned quizzical, but she followed his orders, yanking down her sweatpants. She wore nothing else beneath them.

He eyed her bare legs, the red nail polish on her toes. His gaze rose up her thighs to her sex.

“Like what you see?”

Impudent baggage. But he believed in honesty too. “I do. You're a very sexy woman.”

Her smile brightened until he felt as if he basked in her light. His pulse kicked up a degree, and he moved quickly, before she knew what he intended. One moment she bore a toothy grin, aimed at him and the next she was arranged over his knee, her entire body stiff with outrage.

“What are you doing?”

“Reminding you I'm the one in charge this weekend.” He ran his palms over her bare buttocks, savoring the silky feel of her skin and the faint citrus of his shower gel.

She stilled. “You're going to spank me. I suppose I deserve it. I've been trying to needle you into action, you know.”

“I do know,” he said. “Which is why I decided to ignore the transgression, but then I thought it'd be better to demonstrate for you the consequences of your actions.”

“Try shouting. My family shouts at me.”

“They're not your lover. They don't have an agreement with you.”

“That's true.”

“A big difference,” he said, caressing her bare buttocks again.

Laura quivered, but she couldn't decide whether it was excitement or fear of the unknown. His palms were calloused and abrasive against her skin—a sensual drag that echoed in her pussy. A whoosh of heat slithered across her nerve endings, and her breath caught. Sweet anticipation. What did he intend to do next?

They were alone, and no one knew she was here. It should've terrified her, but instead she was filled with exhilaration.

He cupped her buttock, and he trailed a finger along the tender skin of her inner thigh. His finger trailed upward, along her cleft. He skimmed her clit, the light touch electrifying. She drew a sharp breath, prayed he'd repeat the move.

He didn't. Instead, his finger worked upward to play with her pucker. Frissons of excitement dive-bombed her body. He was toying with her, testing her or maybe he was waiting for her to scream rape or something equally odious, because she was—after all—a Drummond.

As if
.

She'd never treat a man that way and especially not Dallas.

Dallas was different. He called her, tempted her to dally on the wild side.

His finger moved back and forth over sensitive nerves. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She didn't even have to think about her reply.

Crack!

The sharp smack on her bottom made her jolt. Before she could catalogue the sensations, decide if it hurt, another sharp smack hit her butt. It was angled differently, and this time it did bloody smart.

“
Ow
.” She sent a reproving look over her shoulder and attempted to wriggle free. “That hurt.”

“It was meant to.”

He expected her to quit, to balk and call foul. She heard it in his tone. But she'd never been a quitter and wasn't about to start now. She could handle a little pain.

Laura glanced at him, saw his raised eyebrows and didn't say a word. Instead, she turned her stare to the Oriental floor rug, the rich jewel colors in the borders, and mentally braced herself for whatever he decided to do next.