One Perfect Night (5 page)

Her hands roved over his arms, his shoulders and his perfect six-pack abs. Every muscle in his body seemed to be drawn bowstring tight. She pulled back, staring into his eyes. Her gaze met with a raw energy she wanted to believe had everything to do with the way she felt in his arms, but a tiny voice inside reminded her of his strange reaction when he’d heard about Ella’s pregnancy.

“I’m taking you home,” Cameron growled, his face still only inches from hers, his hands tangled in her hair.

“Yes.” Knowing as the word slipped from her lips in a husky breath that he wasn’t simply escorting her home. Knowing that he expected an invitation inside for
coffee.

Considering she’d only just met him, considering who he was…the mere thought of what coffee entailed should have sent her running for the mountains. And, he was obviously far more experienced than she.

Instead it made her legs wobble, her pulse thunder and her breasts ache.

Perhaps pure physical gratification was exactly what she needed to forget her woes for the night. Would it be so wrong to take what Cameron was offering, to prove to herself she was as female as the next woman?

“What about my car?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the simple thought of the night’s simple promise. Of Cameron’s unspoken promise. “I have to drive to my parents’ place in the morning.”

“Forget the car.” He tugged her even closer and, practically caressing her ear with his tongue, he mumbled, “I’ll get you back to it tomorrow.”

“Yes. Good idea. Forget the car. Nice plan.”

Almost as nice as the feel of his lips against her neck.
Oh God!

Stepping up to her apartment, Peppa slipped her key into her front door. She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she pushed open the door and practically ran toward the kitchen.

“What’s the rush?” Cameron caught her swinging hand and spun her round to face him. Heat zinged up her arm.

She swallowed, her mouth dry at the sight of this big, powerful, outrageously sexy man pulsating testosterone in her hallway. “Coffee?” she only just managed.

He shook his head, a sinister smile bewitching his gifted lips. “Honey, we both know, I’m not here for the coffee.”

“No?” Somewhere deep inside her the heat pooled and her hormones danced a celebratory jig.

“Definitely no.”

Then, before she could contemplate whether she’d even bothered to make the bed that morning, he kicked the door shut behind them and swept her into his arms. He made her feel light and feminine and she wondered what other magical feelings he could inspire.

“I didn’t spend all evening fantasizing about drinking coffee…” Cameron carried her down the corridor as if he’d been in her flat a thousand times before. He didn’t seem to notice the underwear drying on the backs of dining chairs or her new ginger kitten, Fred, perched halfway up the Christmas tree. His eyes had only one target.
Her.
“And I’d bet you didn’t spend all evening fantasizing about coffee either.”

He paused at the end of the hallway, his gaze traveling across the two closed doors.

“The left one,” she said, a rush of courage spurring her words.

Still holding her to him, he opened the door and stood at the entrance of the room, surveying. “Very girly,” he observed as he took in her pink bedspread—thankfully made—and her cascade of ribboned cushions on top.

She raised a brow and met his gaze. “I didn’t come in here to chat about the decor.”

“Oh?” His tone matched his sweetly sinister smile. “What exactly are you here for?”

The chance to feel alive again. To
feel
period.

“We could start with discussing your fantasy.” She slipped a hand inside his shirt and traveled over taut muscle to roll one nipple between her fingers. “And then we could do our best to make it come true.”

He sucked in air and pressed one hand against his chest, stilling her sensual exploration. “I’m not big on chatting. Let’s bypass the discussing part and go straight to making it come true.”

Cameron laid Penelope on the bed, taking a moment to stare unashamedly at his dainty fairy. Her golden hair sprawled across the cushions like a silky fan, her jade eyes sparkling like dew on early morning grass and her costume simply driving him wild. All night he’d been desperate to unzip her scanty dress and slide it down and over those fishnet-stocking-covered legs.

Desperate to explore the flesh underneath.

Desperate was an understatement. From that near-kiss in the bathroom, his blood had been pounding so hard south, he could feel the vibration in pulse-points all over his body. Then when Tony’s announcement threatened his breathing and clenched muscles everywhere, all he’d wanted was to seek release in the best way possible.

His thoughts had immediately snapped to Kristen, to the dream they’d shared of creating their own family like the one Rose had welcomed him into. Many a time, they’d spent the evening fantasizing about what lay ahead, dreaming of a time they’d buy a bigger, family-friendly house, baby-proof it. They’d thought they had all the time in the world but they’d been wrong. Just when they’d been about to start trying for a baby, Kristen had been taken from him.

Despite not wanting to upset Auntie Rose with his sudden departure, he’d had to get away. Escape couldn’t come fast enough.

Sitting up a little, Peppa grinned at him, the mischief and desire stretching right up to her eyes. “Are we waiting for a reason?”

Inwardly he cursed. She was a minx and he liked it. Her impish antics had his groin aching with desire but she didn’t need to know that yet. He folded his arms. “Just trying to teach you a bit of patience.”

A frilly pink cushion came zooming toward him and he darted just in time.

“Fair play. I deserved that.” Then, yanking open the top few buttons of his shirt, he sat next to her and took the liberty to trace his hand from her chin down the side of her body. His thumb brushed over the curve of her breast and he felt her diaphragm suck in air. “Truthfully, I was trying to decide whether to use the slow or the speedy approach when ridding you of that costume.”

She wet her lips with her tongue, her voice husky when she spoke. “And have you come to a decision?”

“Close your eyes, lean back and I’ll show you.”

Without a word, she fell into the cushions and squeezed her eyes shut. He shucked his shirt and jacket, already feeling hot and heady. Within moments he straddled her, his erection swelling against his trousers as his hands found the hem of her ridiculous tutu. She moaned, her body responding instantly as he caressed her inner thighs.

“Cameron.” She reached up, tried to tug him closer, her fingers digging in at his waistband, and although his heart kicked over at the desperate way she uttered his name, he’d barely begun. He had plans for a long night of languorous love-making where they both reached their peak over and over and over again.

He clasped her wandering hands, securing them up over her head and lowered his mouth to claim her lips. As his tongue explored the intricacies of her delicious mouth, his hands sought her hair. So thick, so golden, so wild—the sensation of its silkiness between his palms stimulating like a drug.

And boy did she know how to kiss.

Her tongue rolled with his, teasing, claiming, enticing until he felt himself losing control.

He lifted his mouth slightly and smiled at the tiny moan which escaped her lips. They were both on a fast-track to oblivion. Wanting to watch her writhe at his touch, he trailed his tongue from her lips to her ear and then slowly down her neck, where he pressed hot, wet kisses against her smooth skin.

Her head rolled, thrusting up the outline of her two teasingly perfect breasts. Suddenly that blasted sexy costume seemed more of a hindrance than a turn-on. One hand still at her neck, he let the other wander downward over her delicate curve of cleavage. As he cupped one breast, her body contracted beneath his touch and his own body responded.

Definitely time to lose the clothing.

“Right, that was the slow part,” he informed her. “Time to pick up the pace.”

“That was slow?” She opened her eyes, incredulity evident in her voice.

“Snail pace,” he replied dryly. “Now it’s time to hold on for the ride.”

In one swift maneuver, he spun her over, so she was on top of him. His hands sought the tag of her zipper and he smiled at the sound as he yanked it down. The dress peeled off like an extra layer of skin, leaving a near-naked fairy, hot and heavily breathing in his arms. Her breasts strained against the fabric of a sumptuous red, lace bra. He itched to take her nipples one after the other in his mouth, through the fabric, and feel them peak under the coaxing of his tongue.

But they’d moved on to fast.

So, instead, he reached around and unclipped her bra, a carnal moan erupting deep within them both as Penelope’s beautiful breasts spilled free.

“I thought we were supposed to be going fast,” she chastised as he stared openly at her perfect form.

His mouth was almost too dry to reply but he felt her fingers curl under his buttocks. She leaned closer, her nipples scraping his bare chest as she tried to undo his fly. He took a short, sharp breath, realizing he needed to strip her of the rest of her clothing before
she
stripped
him
of his ability to function properly.

Her lips about to land on his, he sat up slightly, groaning as her sex brushed over his aching groin. Despite the layer of red lace and fishnet stockings, the feel of her half-clothed did more to him than any fully naked woman ever had. He pushed that thought aside. He didn’t want to waste time taking off her shoes, but when it came to sex, he liked a level playing field. And he’d left his shoes at the door.

“There’s a clip at the back,” she hissed as he fumbled and cursed trying to wrench the pointy slippers off. “Here let me.”

He restrained from touching her for a second as she took over. Then, when her shoes were tossed aside, she slipped to the edge of the bed and his blood pressure almost burst a valve in his chest while he watched her quickly peel off her stockings and knickers. As she hadn’t succeeded in her mission to help him lose his trousers, he quickly skimmed them down his legs and stood naked before her. His muscles twitching with excitement.

“Now, where were we?” she asked, a wicked glint in her eyes.

He puffed out one hot breath and pulled her back onto him, positioning her just above his erection. “Right. About. Here.”

“Ooh yeah.” Her throaty voice spiked his cerebellum as, hot and already wet, she slid down onto his tip.

He wanted nothing more than to lose himself inside her but just before she sheathed him completely, common sense prevailed.

Swearing, he gently pushed her upward and when pained surprise tainted her generous eyes, he set to right the situation quickly. “Protection,” he explained.

Her eyes flickered closed and opened again. “Please, tell me you have some.”

He nodded, easing out from under her and seeking his wallet in his trouser pocket. “I was never a Boy Scout, but I’m a big believer in always being prepared.”

He held up a small foil packet and she pulled him back to her. She took the packet in her teeth, tearing it open before discarding it over her shoulder and easing the condom onto him. He shuddered under her fatal touch. “Fast remember.”

“I remember,” she said, reaching up to touch her lips to his.

And then they lost themselves in a tangle of legs, arms, mouths and insatiable lust. He’d never felt so out of control in his life.

Her fingernails dug into his back as he drove himself farther, deeper, inside her tantalizing wetness. His rapid breathing matched hers as she clenched her inner muscles, driving him totally insane.

“You’re out of this world,” he whispered, knowing in seconds he’d be totally incapable of speech.

Her response was physical. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him even more. Sweet sweat made their bodies slippery and the even sweeter smell of their union was like an aphrodisiac. Not that they needed any encouragement.

Then, just when he thought he couldn’t go a moment longer without exploding with desire, she screamed his name. “Cameron!”

And he thrust deep one final time, taking them both spiraling into paradise.

As sunshine dawned on Christmas morning, Peppa woke hot, naked and with her limbs aching as if they’d taken up synchronized swimming—or some equally unnatural sport.

Naked?

Her body froze. Goose bumps swamped her skin as memories of the previous night zapped her like an electric shock. Champagne. Cameron.
Bliss.
No way would Father Christmas have been able to leave presents with all the unexpected action going on in her bedroom.

The shock quickly made way for a smile as she rolled over. But fantasies of watching Cameron sleep or waking him with a lazy, indulgent exploration of his talented body were short-lived. Where his head had molded her spare pillow only hours earlier, Fred now slept, purring contentedly.

What did you expect? Breakfast in bed?
She scolded her whimsical romantic heart as she pulled the kitten’s warm, furry body into her arms. His ginger coat felt smooth against her bare chest but did nothing to soothe the heavy, almost sad beat that strummed deep within.

How could she have ever reasoned that sleeping with Cameron McCormac was a good idea?

Uh, do you want me to write a list?
The previously repressed nymphomaniac side of her conscience spat sarcastically.

While she tried to crush the voice with a metaphorical baseball bat, she had to concede it made a good point. Never before, not even in three long years with Tim had she been made to feel so sensual, so alive, so feminine as she had last night. It couldn’t be denied Lyrique’s new head certainly knew his way around the female body. His erotic exploration had unleashed some kind of banshee within her. The tender spot between her legs throbbed at the reminder of just how uninhibited she’d been.

She cringed, one hand rushing to ease her temples which pulsed with a different kind of pain. Panic.

What if they ran into each other at work? Not that it had ever happened before, but being his employee, being in the same building, there was every chance they could. Why hadn’t such thoughts of embarrassment yanked her back to her senses last night? She clung to the hope that office life would continue as per usual and she’d never even see Cameron at work. Although that thought left an empty feeling in her gut, as well.

Fred mewed and she realized she was clutching him too tightly. “Sorry, little man,” she said, loosening her grip as she placed a kiss on the kitten’s head. A kiss that was as much an attempt at calming her as it was Fred.

But annoyance quickly stamped out the unease.

If Cameron were any kind of gentleman, the least he could have done would have been to wake her and say goodbye. Instead, he’d run under the cover of darkness, while she’d been sleeping soundly and it made what had been an amazing experience somehow seem tacky.

It made her feel like some cheap…

Perhaps that’s all she meant to him. A simple means to his release. A case of Peppa being in the right place at the right time…or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on the way she chose to look. He obviously hadn’t felt a smidgen of the magical connection she had. Just like Tim, he’d only wanted her for one thing.

She shuddered, swallowed a sniff and laid Fred back on the pillow before pushing herself out of bed. She ought to get these pathetic, stupid, futile thoughts out of her mind. God knew she’d wasted enough time in the last few months crying over her belittling break-up with Tim and she’d been with him three years. It wasn’t right to let some hot, inconsiderate, selfish tool of a
man
ruin her Christmas.

Peppa took a deep breath—recalling her yoga techniques—as she located a fresh towel for her shower.
Inhale. Exhale.
She tried to tell herself there was no point wallowing over the best sex of one’s life. And, no matter what she thought of her partner in lust, his prime spot in her very limited circle of lovers was a no-brainer. She didn’t indulge in one-night stands on a regular basis—okay never before last night, which is probably why she felt so bereft—but she should have known from the word
coffee
that’s all it could ever be.

It was stupid to feel so affronted.

And she’d be a fool to deny it had served its purpose—her room still smelled of his enigmatic presence and her body still sung, reminding Peppa just how much of a woman Cameron had made her feel.

He’d given her the perfect Christmas present.

Unable to stop a slow, satisfied smile stretching across her face, she hopped in the shower with a newfound confidence, letting the hot shards soothe her aching muscles as she sang the hit classic “Oh, What a Night” at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t wait to get to her parents’ place, give them the present she’d spent eons choosing—a stunning sculpture for their beloved cottage garden—gorge herself on her mum’s roast…

Her hands froze in the midst of massaging shampoo into her scalp.
Sadie.
Her faithful Volkswagen Beetle still sat on the second floor of the office car park.

Blast!

Of all the stupid things she’d done, letting Cameron sweet-talk her into forgoing her car ranked highly. She hated public transportation at the best of times. Her job required her to be punctual or whole recording schedules could be delayed and she’d learned quickly not to rely on buses and trains. Taxis were a marginally better option…but on Christmas day? She’d have to be damn lucky.

She finished her hair quickly, not shampooing twice as she usually did so she could get straight on to calling a taxi. As she hastily wrapped a towel around her body, tucking it in at her chest, a persistent boom sounded at the front door. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Who could possibly be visiting at eight o’clock on Christmas morning? She hadn’t buzzed anyone up.

The knock sounded again and she reasoned it must be one of her neighbors. Mrs. Parker from across the hall had no doubt locked herself out of her flat yet again. And she could be
very
determined.

“Coming,” she called, collecting Mrs. Parker’s spare key from its spot in her fruit bowl as she padded across the kitchen. Hopefully the old woman—forgetful as anything when it came to the mundane but sharp as a spear when it came to being a busy-body—had gone to bed early last night. Who knew what noises could have drifted through the wall from Peppa’s bedroom to her neighbor’s living room? In fact, Mrs. Parker had probably manufactured an excuse to come visiting in order to poke her nose into the flat foraging for gossip. At least that was one good thing about Cameron having done a vanishing act. No evidence.

Still she’d have to concoct some story. Perhaps something about Fred missing his mother?

When Peppa opened the door, all thoughts of Mrs. Parker evaporated.

“Good morning.”

The air left her lungs, the key fell from her grasp and her hands shot to her chest, griping the towel to ensure it stayed put. Her visitor was not Mrs. Parker.

Definitely not.

Mrs. Parker could never look so breathtaking in camo-cargo trousers and a tight black T-shirt. Mrs. Parker could never make Peppa’s temperature soar, her legs wobble and her ovaries jump up and down simply by standing in the doorway. Mrs. Parker didn’t leave her tongue-tied and at a loss for words.

Cameron did all this. And
more.

“Bit late for modesty, don’t you think?” He stretched one hand out to grip the door frame and shot her a wicked smile.

She swallowed, willing her brain to kick into gear while thinking he was a sight she could easily get used to.

“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded accusing but she’d only just got her head around his vanishing act and now he was here. In the flesh. Standing on the worn welcome mat like some X-rated gift from Father Christmas. ’Cos even fully clothed, he ought to come with a warning.

As she took a quick breath, he held out a brown paper bag and a holder bearing two disposable cups. “Aside from delivering fresh croissants and hot coffee, you mean?” He tilted his head to one side as if in deep contemplation. “I think the plan was I’d take you to collect your car.”

“Yes but…” A man who gave her multiple orgasms
and
brought food? Her heart soared and her nose smiled at the enticing smell but she let her words fade. Anything she said would betray the disappointment she’d felt waking up to find him gone. Such emotions weren’t part of the “coffee” deal and she didn’t want him to think her weak.

“Never mind.” He stepped into the tiny hallway, placed breakfast on a side table and then put his hands against her bare shoulders as he spun her round. Stopping indecently close, he whispered right into her ear, “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll set this stuff on the table.”

With his fingers searing her shoulders, Peppa yearned to twist her head and touch her lips to his once again. She breathed in his aroma of masculine soap, her mind envisioning his early morning shower. She hadn’t expected Cameron to return to collect her but now he was here, she didn’t want to go anywhere.

She
was
weak. And right now, Christmas Day in bed sounded like a mighty fine plan.

Peppa turned around and met his gaze. “I don’t have to be at my parents’ for another few hours.”

Cameron groaned and rested his head against her forehead. His thumb slipped up to stroke her lips. “Don’t tempt me, vixen.”

The rapture that erupted within at his touch spurred her. “Why not?”

“Because unfortunately I have to be somewhere in half an hour.”

That was a lie. Although Cameron had arranged to meet Johno, his rock-climbing partner and fellow Christmas avoider, just before nine, he could easily cancel or postpone.

“Oh.” Penelope’s down-turned eyes betrayed her disappointment. “I won’t be long then.”

Cameron’s heart squeezed at her accompanying pout and he summoned all the willpower he had not to haul her over his shoulder and stomp into her bedroom like a cave man. Instead, he stepped back, forcing distance between himself and the alluring smell of citrus in her freshly washed hair. If they’d chosen a more neutral setting for their shenanigans the night before, then perhaps he’d be able to seduce her again without a battering from his conscience.

But in the early hours of the morning, when he’d done his usual trick of escaping before sleep, before the nightmares started, he’d taken a moment to glance around. While Penelope slept, a tiny ginger cat had jumped onto the bed to make his acquaintance. It had followed him out into the kitchen and while he’d poured a tall glass of ice-cold water for himself, he’d given the kitten a bowl of milk.

It was then, under the light of the moon peeping in through the curtains, that he’d seen just how homey Penelope’s small flat was. Every available surface housed what his aunt would call knick-knacks and he called clutter. A Christmas tree took pride of place in the tiny living room and tinsel hung across the ceiling. The walls and shelves—even the fridge for Pete’s sake—held photos. On closer look many had been of a middle-aged couple he guessed to be her parents but there had also been a fair few of children. Some sort of Girl Scout choir or something.

These things told him one thing. While Penelope wasn’t like the blonde glamazons who chased him purely for status and wealth, she also wasn’t someone he could afford to become entangled with. She was the type of woman you could confine to a jail cell and she’d find some way to make it welcoming and comfortable.

She wasn’t a fling type of girl. And he wasn’t a commitment type of man. Not anymore.

In this case, logic had to win out over lust.

“Don’t rush.” He watched the sway of her hips as she walked down the hall. “I don’t have to go far.”

He’d barely located the plates, cutlery, butter and jam when Penelope appeared again. The sight of her, classically beautiful in a knee-length sundress that looked as though it had been splashed with huge red flowers and with her wet golden hair piled behind her head and held together with two chopsticks, almost made him drop the plates on her black-and-white-checkered tiles. As if the tiny towel and all that dripping, bare-naked skin hadn’t been distracting enough!

He recovered in time to save the plates and glance theatrically at his watch. “You trying to break some kind of female-getting-ready record?”

She let out a half laugh and crossed the room to pick up a croissant. She tore it in two, then without slathering on butter or jam, took a healthy bite. An appreciative noise escaped her lips.

“I’m serious,” he said, trying not to get all hot-and-bothered over her very sexy eating techniques. “You didn’t have to rush.” Every woman he’d ever known intimately had taken ten times as long to get ready as Penelope and had only achieved a fraction of the impact. He couldn’t recall one who stole his breath away like she did.

“I didn’t.” She took another bite and scooped up one of the coffees. “Shall we make a move?”

Her words were innocent, at least he thought so. But his overactive imagination couldn’t help envisioning the kind of move he’d like to make. Right now. With his fairy.

He should never have come. And he certainly shouldn’t have prolonged the visit with the offering of breakfast. Why hadn’t he listened to his gut when it said to call Penelope a car?

Peppa took the stairs two at a time to keep up with Cameron. Her cheeks as warm and no doubt as color-filled as a glowing lava lamp. Once she’d recovered from the shock of seeing his lovely hard body and sinful smile standing in her doorway, she’d realized what the tension tightening his features and his staccato-like sentences meant. If she’d greeted a man wearing nothing but a towel before, she’d have flushed from embarrassment, but the heat in her cheeks as she greeted him had been from something else entirely. And she knew he felt it too.

The fact he’d returned spoke volumes. He could easily have feigned memory loss on the little matter of her abandoned car. Yet, despite having a pressing prior engagement, he’d made good on his promise and even ensured she didn’t start the day on an empty stomach. It made her wonder if the office grapevine had him terribly, terribly wrong. It made her wonder if he wanted more than one night. She blinked, pushing the thought away.