Falling for Mr Wrong Page 8

  Locking her arms around his neck she rubbed herself up and down and was rewarded with a guttural groan as his kisses became even more frantic. Holding him close she continued to slide up and down before tearing her mouth away so she could whisper exactly what she thought of his kisses.

  Another groan. She felt his body tighten.

  “You’re driving me crazy.” The stubble of his chin grazed her cheek as he drew in a ragged breath.

  A thrill zipped up and down her spine as moist heat flooded her there. She lifted her face and looked directly into his eyes. Words remained clogged in her throat as blood roared in her ears.

  His hands snaked around her waist, tugging her shirt free from the hold of her shorts. As his hands worked their way across then up her spine, Tilly’s blood raced. Her breaths came in short, sharp bursts, “Oh, Nate.”

  “I have to touch you, taste you,” he said drawing in a shaky breath. He broke the kiss before his mouth trailed down her neck towards her collarbone. The press of his lips against her heated skin burnt a trail of need and longing while the inside car temperature rocketed past boiling point.

  With their uneven breaths filling the car, the outside noise of the passing traffic dissipated. With killer precision, his fingers unsnapped her bra then pushed the lacy material aside to cup her breasts.

  Their kiss broke. “You’re beautiful,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his hands cradling her breasts.

  Lust speared at her tummy. His hands roamed all over her belly, breasts and shoulders and then the strength in her body evaporated as she leaned backwards.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as her back collided with the steering wheel.

  “Fine. Just. Don’t. Stop.”

  His breath came in short, uneven bursts as he tugged at her shirt buttons, ripping a couple in the process. Moments later his eyes feasted on her naked upper body, save for her lacy bra stuck under her armpits.

  The slide of his thumb brushing against her nipples had her grasping for air. His full lipped smile had her pulse racing.

  “More…please,” she begged, her body constricting.

  “What do you want?” His eyes darkened.

  “You.” Her voice was a soft whisper.

  His eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. It was expelled through clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy.” With one hand supporting her weight as she leaned back, the other opened flat palm stroked across her belly and up along her sides.

  His head moved down and as his lips sought her nipple. Sensation engulfed her with the feel of the moist heat from his mouth on each peak. The ache in her belly, in her breasts, intensified as her breath came faster and faster. Till her breaths became pants and her pants became pleas.

  “Put your legs around my waist.” He instructed gruffly, his eyes flashing with fire.

  Holding her tight, his tongue lavished her breasts, she somehow uncoiled her legs and clamped them around him.

  He flashed her a wicked smile before moving his hand to the juncture of her thighs.

  Her fingers gripped his biceps, digging into lean muscle as her heart pounded against her ribs. “Oh.”

  “Your shorts are in the way.” He muttered an expletive under his breath. His fingers started stroking through her clothing and moist undies. He flashed her a predatory smile.

  Her senses were buzzing as his fingers touched her, oh so intimately.

  She writhed. She groaned. She pleaded for more.

  His smouldering look told her he was only too happy to comply.

  The press of his fingers became more insistent. Her cries became louder and his mouth sucked each nipple till they were hard pink buds.

  She was hot and slick for him. Her teeth ground together.

  A wave came. She was going to explode.

  Her fingers tightened even harder into his shoulders. His teeth grazed her nipple and she shuddered under his touch. His insistent fingers drew more urgent circles while every nerve ending begged for completion.

  Her hips thrust up into his hand as he steadied his rhythm.

  “More, more.” She pleaded as her back arched.

  “Do you still think I’m boring?” His breath warmed her neck.

  “What?” She shook her head. “No.” He was asking that now? Confusion coupled with lust whooshed through her veins.

  “Tell me.” His fingers slowed.

  She bit back a curse. “No one boring could make me feel like this.”

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  She couldn’t. The pleasure was too intense. It coiled in her belly before spreading through her veins, coursing along her skin. He could not stop. She needed more. Begging was the favourable option. “Please, please, please.”

  “My pleasure.” He withdrew his fingers them plunged them deep, massaging a point so special it bordered on pain. He applied the right amount of pressure, using his thumb to run along the sensitive skin around her feminine lips. Her focus remained on the unbelievable tingling across her body, so new and so incredibly exhilarating, she longed for more. And just when she was about to climax, he pulled back but then started all over again. Within seconds, she screamed out his name as her hips buckled. She came and came and came.

  Her breathing finally slowed as her heart thumped in her chest as though she had just sprinted up the mountain to the top of Masada. “That was amazing.” She basked in the afterglow of what had been the most exciting sexual experience she ever had. Who knew the prequel to sex could be so fulfilling?

  His eyes flashed in triumph as his crow raised. “So do you still think I’m boring.”

  Her spine stiffened. “You did that to prove a point?” Disgust filled her mouth.

  “Maybe,” he said with a shrug.

  Jerk! She did not know whether to kiss him or slap him. But seeing the relaxed look on his face made her think that he may be playing indifference. But why? If she had the chance to date more, she would have a better understanding of men. Her father’s profession had been a date-deterrer. Who would want to date the local parson’s daughter? Would an engagement announcement be expected after a date?

  She should have slapped Nate away when he initially kissed her. But she hadn’t. She carried on like the desperate and wanton hussy Sebastian had claimed her to be. Time to toughen up and say no, even if he was the most incredible kisser. Pushing aside thoughts of his lips against her, she tried to return to the passenger seat.

  He tugged her close so she remained on his lap. “Just for the record, you’re absolutely magnificent when you come.” He pressed his lips to hers.

  And how was she supposed to reply to that?

  The sound of voices outside had her looking around. A group of people were making their way to their mini-bus. Fortunately, their car was far enough for privacy but if anyone looked hard enough, they would catch an eyeful of her sitting on Nate’s lap, her top hanging off. “What are we doing?” Her voice shaky as she looked around. “This is a public area, a lookout, for goodness sakes.”

  With dilated pupils and his shirt askew, he looked downright sexy and dangerous. His gaze travelled over her softly, taking in her near naked form when only moments before she had been spread out before him like some dessert buffet.

  She had to get off him. What started as a joke had escalated into…She did not know what was going on but suddenly she felt exposed in more ways than one. Tugging her bra into place and snapping it on, she then shrugged on her now crumpled top.

  “Sorry—” He started to say.

  She did not want his excuses and raised her hand like a policeman saying ‘stop’. Despite him wanting to prove a point, she had been rocked by the most intense sexual experience. Her heart thumped a mantra, ‘I-can-or-gasm’. Desire sizzled all the way to her toes and back. She wanted to do that, again and again.

  “We’d better get going.” He cleared his throat. He looked at the view as she tidied herself as best as she could with unsteady fingers.

  After a long swig of water from
her bottle she turned to him, “I’m ready now.”

  He gave her a curt nod before dragging a hand through his ruffled hair. Within moments, the car’s engine roared to life and they re-joined the traffic heading towards Jerusalem.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nate clutched the steering wheel so tightly he expected it to crumble between his hands. He counted backwards from ten, taking a deep breath between numbers. Six, breathe, Five, breathe…

  He had all but devoured her just moments ago. The scent and taste of her had spurred him on, obliterating all rational thoughts from his brain. What thirty-two year old male stops driving on a busy highway to mindlessly kiss? More than kiss. Touch. Suck. Nibble. Whoa, his lower body grew hard again. At this rate, he would spend the distance between the Dead Sea and Jerusalem with a permanent hard-on.

  He counted backwards again.

  His job was to get the story, not to kiss her senseless. Her moans of pleasure were permanently scarred on his brain. His jeans had almost exploded off as she had cried out in completion. Damn them being in a car instead of a bed. His body ached, wanting the release that would only come from driving into her moist heat.

  Grinding his teeth, he tried valiantly not to remember her gasping for breath as the orgasm ripped through her. His brain fogged and he shook his head, determined to drive safely. Clenching his hands even tighter, he had to stop thinking about the softness of her skin or how her breast fit perfectly in his hand. He slammed the brake hard as a car swerved in front on him.

  “Nate, watch it,” Tilly yelled.

  He snarled at the obnoxious driver and tooted the horn with three long sounds.

  If I stopped thinking about your breasts for a moment, I’d be able to focus. Evicting all thoughts on Tilly he concentrated on the traffic and driving.

  “We can either talk about what just happened…” she began.

  “Or focus on our story,” he interjected.

  From the corner of his eye he caught the droop of her slightly swollen, rosy lips.

  His urgent kisses had made her lips even more lush. He clenched his teeth in an attempt to obliterate the desire to lean over for a further taste.

  “But?” she said.

  “Tilly, we’re adults. We’re supposed to be engaged. Think of it as getting to know each other.”

  His voice sounded a lot more stern than he intended but with his body still aching and the taste of her seared on his lips, he was no more in the mood for a cosy chat than he was for swimming with icebergs.

  “What’s the real reason you kissed me?”

  How to explain the fact that he was not only attracted to her, but fighting it with every fibre of his being. It was wrong on so many levels. He had chased her all the way to Israel for a story. Not once had he expected her to make his hormones rocket sky high. But she had. For the first time, he was nervous, even a tad scared on his reaction to her. He never had such strong feelings for anyone, including his ex-fiancée, and he had been with her a hell of a lot longer than the day he had known Tilly.

  “Nate?”

  “I don’t like you calling me boring.” He gave her a wink, hoping to diffuse the situation. It was not as though he was going to tell her the truth.

  Her mouth dropped into an O. “You’re being ridiculous. I was joking.”

  “I’m very competitive. You put a challenge in front of me, I’ll take it.” His eyes flickered to her then back at the road.

  “I’ll remember that.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile but he knew she would question him later.

  No woman would accept such a flippant reply. The fact that she had meant he would be dealing with this again, soon.

  “We’d better work out our story. You also need to tell me what you’re going to tell your aunt.”

  He caught her looking at him before turning to stare out the window. Her hair had been scrapped back into an untidy ponytail and unfortunately, her shirt was back on but no longer tucked into her shorts. His fingers itched to run through the silky strands again and he squashed an uncanny urge to lean over and tug the elastic out from her hair.

  She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I don’t know much about you. As your fiancée I should know more.”

  The truth was he loved sex when a woman was on top, had never invited a woman to stay over but…was willing to make an exception with her.

  Her melodic voice interrupted his thoughts of her on top. “Since I got recommended to Sebastian through a friend of my brother’s, we could say he introduced us. We chatted via email and then met up when I came to London. What do you think?” Working in solution mode had excitement creeping into her voice.

  He nodded slowly mulling over her suggestion, “It could work.” He paused. “We need to consider times spent together.”

  “Well,” her arms uncrossed as she turned towards him, “as a live-in nanny, I took the children to school and picked them up but had school hours off. Weekends depended on Sebastian’s schedule and when they needed me. Sometimes I worked both days and other weekends I had off.”

  He mulled over what she had just said. “Did you have to account for your time?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I spent most days sightseeing, I loved all the amazing things London had to offer.”

  London. To him she was living and breathing. He could not imagine living anywhere else. London with her fair share of political dramas and issues had provided him with a stellar career. Interested in what she thought of his beloved hometown, he asked, “What did you see?”

  “More like what I didn’t see! I visited museums, gardens as well as Tower Bridge and Buckingham Palace.” Her skin glowed with happiness, as it did every time she talked about travelling. It was the same glow she had when she spoke about the places she longed to visit. Was it only last night they had met for a drink in the lobby? It seemed much longer.

  “What was your favourite?” He returned his focus to the traffic.

  “Everything but the highlight was the theatre in the West End.”

  “What did you see?”

  “The Mousetrap, of course.”

  “It’s been running for years,” he added.

  “Over sixty.” Her breath hitched. “I bought the program as a souvenir and kept the ticket.”

  “So how does it end?”

  She hit him playfully on the arm. “It’s a secret. When you see the play, you’ll know the ending.”

  “I’ve seen it,” he tossed at her. “Back to our story. During the times you were walking your feet off, around London, you could’ve met me?”

  “But I never said anything to Tori or the staff.”

  He dismissed her concern with a flick of the wrist. “We can say you wanted to keep it secret in case the Porters weren’t happy about it.”

  “Hmm.” She leaned back, her legs stretched out in front with her ankles crossed.

  “What about you?” She looked at him with an inquisitive look. “You haven’t told me much about yourself.”

  “As a writer, I have flexibility.” He paused. “Let’s just say my working hours could easily accommodate meeting you.”

  “Okay, I think it’s time for twenty questions,” she announced like a teacher announcing a test to her students. “When’s your birthday?”

  “12 July, you?”

  “Cancer?” She leaned back into her seat. “As a Cancerian, you’re looking to belong.”

  His heart stilled and kept his face in neutral. “Sounds like dribble.”

  She raised her hands defensively. “I find star signs interesting. Want to know about me?” She did not want for him to answer. “My birthday is 7 April and I’m an Aries.”

  “What does that mean?” He found himself asking.

  “I’m headstrong and often act first and think later.”

  “Suits you.” He could not hide the smile tugging at his lips.

  “Don’t laugh at me.” She gave his arm a playful punch.

  “My turn,” he said. “What’s your
favourite colour?”

  “Easy, green. You?”

  “Blue.”

  “Soccer or football?”

  “Soccer is football.” He rolled his eyes.

  A pfft sound, which he ignored, rang out from her lips. “I forgot, you’re English. Football or rugby?”

  “Both. You?”

  “Neither.”

  He stole a quick look at her. “I thought Australians like football.” Weren’t all Australians sport-mad?

  Shaking her head. “Not this one. So who’s your favourite soccer team?”

  “Football. Chelsea.”

  “And your favourite food?”

  “Italian? You?”

  A frown marred her forehead. “I thought you’d prefer something more traditional like a roast or fish and chips.”

  His fingers clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening.

  “Nate?”

  He pushed away the memory of his first taste of roast meat at seventeen. After surviving on Marmite sandwiches for years, he owed his foster parents so much. Education. Love. Nutritious food.

  “What’s wrong with Italian?” He snapped at her.

  “Nothing, I love it. I just expected an Englishman to like typically English foods.”

  “You read too many Enid Blyton books as a child.”

  “You’ve got snappiness down to an art.” She threw at him. “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

  Silence so tight hung between them before she broke it. “In case you care, my favourite dinner is my mum’s lamb roast.”

  Of course. He bristled with a tad of jealousy. Unfair and unreasonable to feel like that, sure. But he didn’t care. “How many brothers?”

  “Three. You?”

  “Bea.”

  “What about parents?”

  “I’ve already told you all you need to know.” He cracked his knuckles before returning to strangle the steering wheel. “Next question?”

  “Shouldn’t I know more about your family?”

  “No.” He kept his eyes fastened on the road as though navigating hair-pin turns rather than a modern four lane highway.