On the First Night of Christmas... (7 page)

His grip tightened. ‘Yeah,’ he said, not sounding very impressed. ‘Helen always knew how to throw a party.’

‘Who’s Helen?’ she asked. But before she got a reply, Jace stiffened beside her. His jaw clenched as a tall woman in floating red silk made her way through the crowd towards them. The woman’s figure was so thin and delicate, her collarbone stood out against the wispy straps of her gown. Either she was a supermodel or she had an eating disorder. Cassie opted for the former as she glided closer, deciding that her striking face, all high cheekbones, almond eyes and collagen-stung lips, could easily have graced the cover of a fashion magazine.

Dropping Cassie’s hand, Jace placed his palm on her hip to anchor her to his side. And she heard him swear under his breath.

‘Hello, lover boy,’ the woman said breathlessly as she drew level, her six-inch heels bringing her almost eye-level with Jace, and making Cassie feel like a midget. ‘Long time, no see.’ A cloud of expensive perfume engulfed Cassie as the woman leaned into him and pressed postbox-red lips to his. Her mouth lingered on his a moment too long for the kiss to be mistaken for platonic. Cassie wondered if she’d just become invisible.

Jace grasped the women’s waist, deliberately setting her away from him. ‘Where the hell is Bryan?’ he asked, his tone frigid.

‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out,’ she said, batting her eyelids as spots of colour appeared on her angular cheekbones.

‘I didn’t come all this way to play games, Helen,’ he replied, his voice low with annoyance.

So this was Helen.

The woman’s long eyelashes dipped in a bashful gesture that seemed out of keeping with the bold flirtation of a moment before and she gave a breathless little laugh. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport.’ She touched a perfectly manicured nail to Jace’s chest. ‘I have good news. I have some friends here tonight you must meet. I’ve whetted their appetite already and they’re gagging to hear more about Artisan so they can invest.’

Catching her finger, Jace lowered it. ‘You of all people know I’m not looking for new investment.’

She flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. ‘Stop being difficult—you’re not going to sell Artisan. I know how much the company means to you. I’m the one who watched you sweat blood over it.’

‘It served its purpose,’ he replied flatly. ‘I don’t get sentimental about business, any more than I get sentimental about the past.’

The chill in his voice sent a shiver of alarm up Cassie’s spine. Who was this woman? And why did the familiarity between them remind her unpleasantly of the time when Lance had laughingly introduced her to his ‘work colleague’ Tracy at their New Year’s Eve party last year?

She knew she didn’t have any claim on Jace, this was just a casual date with the promise of wild sex for dessert, but that didn’t make the uncomfortable feeling go away. She cleared her throat, loudly, and Helen’s head whipped round.

The woman stared blankly at her as if she were noticing her for the first time, but made no move to introduce herself. Hostility rolled off her in waves, but there was something else there, a flicker of sadness and distress, that made Cassie wish she could disappear for real.

‘Why don’t I go get us a drink?’ Cassie directed the question at Jace. Whatever was between these two, she was pretty sure she’d be better off not knowing what it was.

‘We’ll get one together,’ he replied. ‘I’ll catch you later, Helen.’

But as he took Cassie’s hand and went to sidestep their host she simply stepped the same way, blocking his path. ‘What’s the matter, Jace?’ she said, her raised voice turning several heads by the bar. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable introducing your little tart to your wife?’

He swore viciously as shock and disbelief made blood pound in Cassie’s ears.

His wife?

Seeing the other guests staring at her, Cassie felt the blood pump into her cheeks. Jace said something, his voice low with temper, but she couldn’t make out the words, the buzzing in her ears deafening her. Pulling her hand out of his, she rushed out of the bar and didn’t look back.

She covered her mouth with her hand as reaction set in.

Oh, God, she was going to throw up.

So much for her fabulous adventure, she thought as she stabbed the lift button with frantic fingers. She should have seen it coming. Cassie Fitzgerald decided to have a wild fling and she ended up flinging herself straight into the arms of a married man. It would be ironic, if the guilt and embarrassment and the stupid sense of betrayal tumbling about in the pit of her stomach weren’t making her gag.

‘Hold up, Cassie.’ A large hand wrapped around her forearm and whisked her round. ‘Where the hell are you going?’

‘Home.’

‘Helen’s not my wife,’ he countered. ‘We’ve been divorced for over five years now and separated a great deal longer. And up until about ten seconds ago I thought she’d be here with her new fiancé, so I didn’t anticipate having to deal with this rubbish.’

The dispassionate explanation went some way to dispelling the nausea, but did nothing for the heat burning in her cheeks. ‘Thanks for letting me know that,’ she said, using sarcasm to mask the stupid sting of tears. What on earth was she so upset about? His relationship with his ex-wife really had nothing to do with her. ‘It might have been nice if you’d told me a little sooner, though. Like when I asked about her in the car.’

‘I’m not interested in talking about her or our marriage,’ he said, as if withholding such a vital piece of information was perfectly reasonable.

‘I specifically asked you if you were involved with her. And you didn’t say a word.’

She stared at the lift display panel as if her life depended on it. She didn’t want to look at him. And where the heck was the lift? It needed to get here before she did something really idiotic like bursting into tears. For some reason her emotions had been too close to the surface all night. Ever since she’d leapt into his car like a crazy lady—and then come apart on his sofa.

‘Because there’s nothing to say,’ he huffed. ‘I was never involved with her. Not in any real sense. Our marriage lasted exactly six months and I’ve regretted it ever since. The fact that she’s delusional and insists on pretending there’s still something between us is not my problem.’ His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and he directed her gaze back to his. ‘Do you think you could look at me while you’re having your snit?’

‘This is not a snit.’

To her astonishment his lip curved up at one corner. ‘It looks like one to me.’

‘Excuse me, but you weren’t the one who got called a little tart in front of three hundred people.’

The other corner curved up. ‘I’m sure it was only two hundred and fifty,’ he replied, his eyes now smiling too.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

‘Now, Cassie,’ he said, amusement lightening his voice as he threaded his fingers into the fine hair at her nape. ‘You’re not looking on the bright side here.’

‘What bright side?’ she snapped, trying very hard not to be charmed by that sensual smile and the caressing touch. It wasn’t fair. She’d been humiliated. Branded a tart by a woman she didn’t even know. And he seemed to think it was a joke. She wasn’t about to humour him.

Following her into the lift, he pressed the ground-floor button then placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her against the wall. ‘The bright side is, we get to leave straight away. A whole hour earlier than planned.’

She braced her palms against his chest, but her arms felt heavy, sluggish, the coil of desire unravelling at an alarming speed and sapping her ability to push him away.

‘You don’t seriously think it’s still game on for tonight, do you?’ she said, trying for indignant but getting breathless instead.

He leaned down to suckle the pulse point in her neck. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ she sputtered, but her head dropped back, instinctively giving him better access.

His gaze, dark and intent, fixed on hers as he let one hand drop to snake under her coat and grip her waist. ‘You’re a terrible liar, you know.’ He pulled her flush against him, all trace of amusement gone. ‘Now tell me again you don’t want me and I’ll take you home.’

The gruff invitation and the feel of his rigid arousal pressing into her stomach made the words catch in her throat. She couldn’t say it, because she did want him. And he was right, she’d never been a good liar.

She wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted. Like a child in a sweet shop, offered the chance to grab as many delights as she could handle.

‘It’s not good to have everything you want,’ she mumbled, mesmerised by the golden flecks that gilded the vivid green of his irises.

His thumb brushed across her nipple and she groaned, the aching tension that shot straight to her sex making resistance futile. ‘It will be tonight,’ he said.

The lift doors opened onto the ground-floor lobby and he eased back. Stepping out, he drew her with him, then dug into the back pocket of his jeans.

He flipped his phone open and dialled without taking his eyes off her. ‘We’re ready now, Dave. How soon can you get here?’

His lips tipped up as he listened to the reply. ‘We’ll be waiting.’

‘How long is it going to take him?’ she asked, her teeth tugging on her lip. She might as well stop pretending that she wasn’t going to jump him as soon as they got back to his suite. Because she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t told her about his ex-wife. It didn’t even matter that the woman had called her a tart. All that mattered now was that the chemistry was hotter than molten lava—and she couldn’t wait any longer to feel it erupt.

‘Too damn long,’ he said as the chauffeur-driven car squealed to a halt at the kerb.

CHAPTER SIX

‘R
EADY
for your candy now?’ Jace growled, his voice husky with lust and humour as he kicked the door of the suite shut.

Cassie giggled, adrenaline and desire coursing through her veins. Her back hit the lobby wall with a soft thud, the hard lines of his body flattening her breasts and making her belly throb.

‘Yes, please,’ she flirted back, sinking her fingers into the silky waves of his hair.

Don’t think, just feel. And enjoy.
Although relaxing was out of the question, seeing as she was about to explode.

They’d kissed and touched on the ride home, stoking the need to fever pitch, but through their clothes the caresses had been as frustrating as they were exciting.

He fastened his lips on her neck, his hands parting the flaps of her coat. The caress roamed over her hips, tugged up her tunic to settle on her behind. He dragged her towards him, grinding the hard bulge in his jeans against the swell of her stomach. ‘You’ve got too many clothes on.’

Cassie ran her hands inside his leather jacket. Lifting the hem of his sweater, she finally touched bare skin. ‘So do you,’ she moaned.

Her fingertips explored the soft line of hair over washboard-lean abs, the warm skin like velvet over steel.

He shuddered, huffed out a laugh and stepped back. ‘Let’s remedy the situation.’

Shrugging off his jacket, he threw it on the floor. Then reached for her coat. She twisted to help him pull it off. Crossing his arms, he grasped his sweater and struggled out of it.

As he tossed the light jumper away Cassie stared, transfixed, at broad shoulders, beautifully defined pectoral muscles and the curls of dark hair that stood out in tufts under his arms, outlined flat brown nipples and then trailed down to bisect the ridges of his six pack and arrow beneath the buckle of his belt.

Her breath backed up in her lungs. That was one seriously gorgeous chest.

She watched him toe off one of his boots, then bend down to hop on one leg while yanking it off.

What was she doing? She should get naked too. She kicked off her own boots, then grasped the hem of her tunic just as his second boot hit the floor.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her before she had raised the tunic past her midriff. ‘No.’

She let go, the boldness fading. ‘What’s the matter?’ Didn’t he want her naked?

He swore softly, grunted the single word, ‘Bedroom,’ then started hauling her down the corridor.

He shoved open the door into a large, luxuriously furnished room with an enormous king-sized bed in the centre. Releasing her, he crossed to the bedside table, rummaged around for a second and then flung a cellophane-wrapped box onto the gold bedspread.

‘Condoms,’ he said unnecessarily. ‘I figured I should locate them before I lost the ability to think.’

She smiled, ridiculously pleased to see he was as eager as she was. But when she went to take off her tunic again, he shot back across the room and took both her wrists in his, holding her hands manacled to her side.

‘No. Wait.’ He touched his forehead to hers, pressed his lips to her temple. ‘There’s no rush.’ He breathed in her scent, eased out a steady breath. ‘Let me do it.’

‘Okay,’ she said, surprised to feel an odd catch in her chest.

Taking the bottom of the tunic in his hands, he lifted it gently over her head, tossed it over his shoulder.

She sucked in a breath as the green of his eyes turned to a shining emerald. His dark gaze roamed over her, touching her skin like a physical caress, burning a trail of fire from her cheeks, to her breasts, blazing into her sex and sizzling right down to her toes.

He slid his thumbs and forefingers under the straps of her simple cotton bra, then tugged them off her shoulders. Her breasts became heavy, the nipples swelling into hard peaks as he peeled the cups down, exposing her to his gaze.

The dark arousal flared. ‘Damn,’ he murmured. ‘You’re perfect.’

The little catch in her chest clutched at her heart. No one had ever thought she was perfect before. Let alone said so.

Reaching around her waist, he drew her closer. His lips buzzed her shoulder where the strap had left a red mark as he released the catch on her bra. He dragged it free, flung that away too.

His eyes met hers as he cradled the weight in his palms, circled her nipples with his thumbs. Then he bent to fasten his lips on one aching peak.

Cassie threaded her fingers into the hair at the side of his head, and arched into his mouth, the hot, wet suction sending her senses into overdrive. He suckled strongly, drawing her into his mouth, then pulling back to flick his tongue over the tip, massaging and teasing her other breast with his fingers.

A sob escaped as she writhed. It wasn’t just his fingers that were talented, it seemed. She’d never realised she was so sensitive there. The raw nerves pulsated as moisture flooded between her thighs.

The pressure built and intensified at her core as sparks of fire originated in her nipples, fanned out across her breasts, then darted down to her centre. She shut her eyes, her legs like wet noodles as he transferred his mouth to her other breast.

He stopped the devastating caresses briefly to tear off her tights and panties, then as his mouth returned to her pounding breasts he flattened his palm against her stomach, pressed the heel of his hand onto her aching centre, then delved into the curls at the apex of her thighs.

He circled for several agonising seconds, then flicked his finger over the heart of her. She cried out, bucked against his palm, the sparks triggering an explosion of need that reared up and crashed through her as he continued to rub the swollen nub. She dug her nails into his shoulders, braced herself as her legs gave out and the final waves of pleasure drained her body, leaving her as limp as a rag doll.

He gave a strained laugh, and bent down to lift her onto his shoulder. ‘Come on, Cassidy,’ he said, his hand patting her bare buttocks. ‘Time for bed.’

Her stomach rode the ridge of his shoulder blade as he strode across the room and dropped her on the mattress. She watched in a daze as he kicked off his jeans and boxers and climbed onto the bed.

Shock reverberated through her, widening her eyes and slicing through the haze of afterglow, as she stared at the massive erection that prodded her thigh when he settled beside her.

As if in a dream, she reached out and touched her nail to the tip. It bobbed towards her, as if it had a life of its own.

‘You’re perfect too,’ she whispered. A strange combination of euphoria and excitement tightened like a vice around her heart. And for the first time ever she let instinct take over, the heady endorphins of her recent climax making her yearn to give him the same pleasure he had given her.

She trailed her finger down the line of hair on his belly, then wrapped her hand around the solid length of his erection. It felt hard and smooth against her palm. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. She pushed at his shoulders until he lay on his back. He thrust his fingers into her hair, as she ran a trail of kisses across his magnificent chest.

His fingers flexed, massaging her scalp, as she inched lower, sliding her tongue over his six pack, licking at the ridge of his belly button, then delving within. The muscles of his flat belly tensed as she encountered the powerful erection at last. Darting her tongue out, she licked up the length of him like an ice lolly, then took the swollen head between her lips.

He swore, shuddered, then, cradling her cheeks in his palms, yanked her off him as he jerked into a sitting position.

Colour flooded into her cheeks as she scrambled back onto her knees. She’d done it wrong. ‘Sorry, you don’t like that?’ she said, the euphoria fading as inadequacy flooded in.

Lance had always told her what to do, had hated it when she took the lead. Why was she so rubbish at sex?

He gave a strained laugh, then reached for her. ‘Are you kidding? I love it,’ he said, sliding his palm over her shoulder to pull her closer. ‘But we’ll have to save it for later or I’m not going to last long enough to get inside you.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said, feeling gauche and yet ridiculously relieved. She hadn’t done it wrong after all.

Shifting over, he reached for the condoms. Tearing the cellophane, he dumped the contents out on the bedspread. He grabbed one of the packages and fumbled with it. ‘Someone ought to tell the manufacturers they use too much packaging,’ he grumbled, finally ripping it with his teeth.

As he flipped out the rubber she took his wrist. ‘Do you mind if I do it?’ she asked, the urge to touch him again overwhelming.

‘Do I mind?’ His eyebrow rose a fraction. ‘Of course not.’ He smiled and passed it to her. ‘Be my guest.’

Lying back on the bedspread, he crossed his arms behind his head, and watched her with heavy-lidded eyes, the desire in them so palpable her heart pounded against her ribcage.

Holding the slick contraceptive in her fingers as if she were handling nitroglycerine, she gave a faltering sigh, anticipation and trepidation colliding to make her heart beat double time. Her eyes feasted on the beauty of his body, wisps of dark hair highlighting the masculine planes of sleek muscles and lean sinews. Then her heart throbbed right into her throat as she focused on the magnificent evidence of how much he wanted her. He was all hers for tonight, and she didn’t want to muck it up. She didn’t want this to be going-through-the-motions sex, or, worse, bad sex. Just this once she wanted what Nessa had promised her. She wanted really amazing sex.

‘Cassidy, I hate to rush you,’ he said, jerking her out of her stupor. ‘But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.’

The sensual threat made her smile.

Do not overthink this.

She rolled the lubricated latex down the thick length with careful fingers, confidence surging through her as he sucked in a shaky breath and the muscles of his abdomen quivered.

Taking her by the shoulders, he swivelled round, so that she would be lying beneath him. But she reared up. ‘Could I be on top?’

He gave a tense laugh. ‘Absolutely,’ he said, then framed her face with his hands. ‘I’m always happy to oblige a woman who knows what she wants.’

He rolled to reverse their positions, then skimmed his hands down to cradle her bottom as she kneeled over him, lifting her above the enormous erection. ‘Climb aboard, candy girl.’