Toby lifted his hand, reaching across the space between their tables.
Amelia hesitated. Perhaps Madeline was right and dealing with her illogical attraction here in Monaco, the land of fantasy and fairy tales, was the answer. Toby didn’t want a future with her any more than she wanted one with him, and if she let her passion for him burn hot, it would quickly burn out because it wasn’t based on anything more substantial than lust.
A nice, controlled burn. That’s what she needed. And when she returned to the real world—work, home and family—her problem would be solved and she’d be one step closer to finding a gentle, caring partner with staying power.
She reached across the intervening space and linked fingers with her temporary obsession.
And prayed she could contain the blaze.
If he got any harder, Toby figured his erection would jack his h*ps off the massage table like a race car waiting for a two-tire change.
No doubt Lars, of the meat grinder hands, knew it. Why else would the guy have tried to mulch Toby’s muscles into hamburger for the past thirty minutes? The jerk was probably pissed he’d missed out on feeling up Amelia.
The second the door closed behind the departing masseuses Toby tossed off the sheet, swung his legs over the side of the table and sat up. Rolling his shoulders, he checked for permanent damage.
He studied the back of Amelia’s head, the way her silky cinnamon hair parted and trailed over the table. After holding his gaze and his hand throughout the massage, the minute the massage ended she’d planted her face in the pillow.
“You okay, sugar?”
Amelia’s back rose as if she were taking a deep breath and then she pushed up on her elbows, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of one pale breast. His dick twitched in appreciation.
“I’m fine.” White teeth dented her bottom lip. And then she sat up—sans sheet—making no attempt to conceal a single delicious inch of creamy skin from his view. His heart and groin pulsed in tandem. She noted his roll-cage-hard condition, averted her face and licked her lips—which only increased his discomfort.
Her n**ples puckered, begging for attention. He wanted to taste them and then trace every sheet-wrinkle impression across her thighs, belly and br**sts. With his tongue. The curls between her legs had been tamed into a tight, tiny triangle since their last encounter. Sexy. Oh, yeah, definitely sexy.
Her hands fisted in her lap. “Can we go upstairs now?”
“Your suite or mine?”
Her gaze didn’t get anywhere close to meeting his. “Yours.”
He nearly fell off the table. He’d expected her to red-flag him and blister him for delivering yet another line. But he wasn’t dumb enough to question his luck. All right, he was dumb enough. But he could wait till later for his answers.
Not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind, he stood.
She slid off her table more slowly, snatched up a towel and covered herself. Her movements were jerky instead of the smooth, efficient and graceful ones he’d come to associate with the slender nurse.
“Amelia.”
She paused and, clutching the ends of the Turkish towel to her breastbone, stared at his chin. Tension tightened her features and a white line cinched her lips. She looked pale and anxious instead of flushed and aroused.
He threaded his fingers through her soft hair and tugged until she met his gaze. Her lashes quickly descended, shielding her eyes, but not before he made a surprising discovery.
She’s shy. And nervous.
Something inside him softened, and for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything to say to ease the situation. No lines came to mind. No come-ons. No flirtatious, teasing banter. He drew a complete blank. A first for him. As Amelia had accurately guessed, words were his tools. He used them to draw people in or push them away. Now he had none.
So he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed her. Her eyelids. Her cheeks. Her nose. Restraining his hunger, he sipped from her lips until her mouth softened beneath his and the stiffness eased from her muscles—and invaded his.
She leaned into him and then her hand curved over his nak*d hip, jolting him like a jump-started battery. He lifted his head and sucked air. He wanted to act out every fantasy that had starred her and had disturbed his nights, but he didn’t want to be interrupted and he couldn’t guarantee that here. So even though letting her go was the absolute last thing he wanted to do, he stepped away.
He yanked a thick hotel robe off the rack by the door and draped it over her shoulders. While she slid her arms into the sleeves, he stuffed his into a second robe and loosely tied the belt. After lacing his fingers through hers, he towed her out of the massage room and into the dressing area. His heart beat faster with every step, as if he were climbing a rock face instead of walking a flat floor.
Eight louvered doors surrounded a splashing water fountain designed to instill tranquility. In his case it failed. Big-time. “Grab your gear and let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we shower off the oil first?” she asked as she paused by the door of the room beside his. He ducked in, scooped up his clothes and rejoined her.
“We’ll do it upstairs. Together.” Because if he didn’t get her out of here, he was going to lose what little patience he had left. Who was he kidding? He’d already lost it.
“On second thought…” He advanced, backing her into the six-by-six cubicle, and kicked the door shut. He flung his bundle of clothes in the corner, yanked her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. Craving the sweet taste of her, the slickness of her tongue, he delved deep without preliminaries.
He opened her robe, found her satin-soft skin and tightly beaded n**ples with his palms. It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Her skin. Against his. He ripped open his robe and pulled her close. Hot. Oh, man, she was hot. She whimpered into his mouth at the press of flesh, and he’d bet his trophy case steam poured from his ears.
When his lungs threatened to explode he lifted his lips a fraction of an inch. “Can you be quiet this time?”
She blinked and then her eyes widened. A flush painted her face and neck. She glanced at the closed door and ran her tongue over her damp, swollen lips.
“You mean you’d—we’d—here?” The last word was little more than a squeak.
Desire choked him. He jerked an affirmative nod.
Her gaze bounced to the door again and then back to him. “B-before we, um, do this I need to make something cl-clear.”
“Shoot.” Hell, he’d agree to practically anything to get inside her right now.
How did she make him this crazy when no other woman had? He cupped her waist and walked her backward toward the padded bench.
She splayed a hand on his chest, lighting five fires with her fingertips. “I—I’m not looking for a long-term relationship with you, Toby. This affair ends the minute we leave Monaco. You can’t call me or try to see me after we get home.”
His steps faltered. She was giving his speech. And being on the receiving end was about as much fun as a rectal exam. He was the one who set the limits on his affairs.
What does it matter who says the words as long as you both abide by the rules?
“Deal.”
Amelia inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders and then met his gaze. “Okay, then. I’m ready.”
So was he. Ready to blow, that is. He wanted her that bad.
That wasn’t good. Get a grip, man.
He skimmed his palms down her back and over her smooth buttocks. He cradled her thigh and lifted until she rested one foot on the bench. Stepping into the V of her legs, he stroked his erection against her damp curls. Her welcoming slickness had him whistling air through his clenched teeth.
“This is gonna be fast. Hard and fast. Are you still on the pill?”
She planted both hands against his ribs. “Yes, but don’t you have a condom?”
“Not with me.”
Her face and body tensed, her withdrawal obvious even to his lust-fogged brain. “I won’t take chances. Especially not with a man like you.”
A man like you. The words hit him like a sucker punch. What in the hell did that mean? She didn’t think he was good enough? She thought he dipped his stick indiscriminately?
“I’m careful and I’m clean.”
“The pill isn’t one hundred percent effective. I’m not willing to risk a pregnancy.”
Pregnancy? Neither was he. He never intended to get married or have kids. He refused to risk letting anyone down the way his folks had him. God knows he didn’t know how to be a father.
“Then we’re good to go, because neither am I. But we’ll have to take this show on the road. I have what we need upstairs.”
Seven
She was going to have sex with a man she didn’t love. Amelia wasn’t even sure she liked Toby Haynes.Oh, sure, her body craved his. But her body wasn’t in charge here. She wouldn’t let it be. And once this series of encounters ended she’d go back to being her sensible, practical self.
Yes, he made her feel good. But she’d keep her head this time.
Averting her eyes from the dressing room mirrors, she tried to ignore the nak*d man bumping elbows and h*ps with her as she buttoned her top in the cramped space. She reached for her panties, but Toby snatched the pale pink cotton out of her hand and stuffed it in his front pocket.
Amelia stared at the tiny bump next to the much larger bulge of his erection. She blinked and then met his gaze. “Give those back.”
“You don’t need ’em.”
“You expect me to waltz through the hotel without my underwear?”
His wicked grin made her insides fizz like a shaken soda pop. “Yeah.”
“You’re wearing yours.”
“That’s so you can peel them off. Later. Real slow.” He captured her hand and stroked her palm over the thick, hard denim-covered ridge. Her heart skipped wildly. “See how much I’m looking forward to that?”
She tugged her hand away, but the residual heat spread from her palm to her cheeks and then pooled where her panties should be. She pulled her skirt over her bare bottom. The button and zip challenged her uncooperative fingers, but finally she managed to get the job done.
She couldn’t help second-guessing her decision. About this affair. About leaving this dressing room semidressed. About…well, everything.
Toby Haynes was too much like her father. But this wasn’t about forever. This was about fitting the last piece of the puzzle in place. As soon as she found Mr. Right her life would be perfect.
But first she had to deal with Toby.
The last time they’d slept together she’d been weak and needy and allowed herself to be swept away on a storm surge of emotion and impulse. Impulses were mistakes. But this wasn’t an impulse. This was a calculated plan designed to eradicate all traces of her attraction to this egotistical, thrill-seeking, smooth-talking ladies’ man from her system the way an antibiotic does an infection. She was stronger now. Strong enough to hold her own and cure this temporary obsession.
Toby’s big hand captured hers. With a feeling of inevitability she followed him out of the dressing room. This encounter had been brewing since she’d first set eyes on him in the hotel foyer.