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Authors: Jane Linfoot
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full attention immediately, and withered slightly under her grey-eyed glare. ‘I didn’t want to stop … ’
‘So why did you?’
Reproachful. One step easier than accusing.
‘It was going too fast. There was too much heat. You must have felt it?’
‘Maybe … ’ Relenting. A touch.
‘I needed to be sure you wanted … ’ Not quite right. He cleared his throat. ‘I needed to make sure our aims coincided – before we went any further.’
The tiniest twitch of a secret smile. ‘And?’
‘I told you before, I’m a short term guy, I don’t do commitment.’
‘Huh … ’ One snort. Of recognition?
‘The way I work, there’s no obligation, and no disappointment. No emotion, no broken hearts, no-one’s let down.’ He baulked inwardly at this impromptu mission statement, polished like he paraded it on a regular basis. ‘It’s a win win situation.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded slowly. Narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean a kind of friends with benefits thing?’
He hesitated. Big time.
She really didn’t get this, did she? Since when had he felt the need to explain himself to a woman about sex anyway? And since when did yesterday’s mascara smudges look so sexy?
‘Less of the friends, more of the benefits I’d say, majoring on the pleasure.’ And so much tidier than saying ‘sex for the hell of it’.
He caught her tell-tale eyebrows as they flew skywards. This had to be a whole new ball-game for her.
‘Thanks for explaining. I’ll give it some thought.’ Gently chewing on Parma ham, lips curving into a smile, but for herself, not for him. Eyeballing him straight now, as she fiddled with one slender, slipping shoulder strap. ‘Like I told you before, I don’t really have space in my life for guys right now, however they’re packaged. Put last night down to the water and the moonlight, it was an aberration, and I promise it won’t be happening again.’
Great. She was talking, even if she was back to the no-guy track.
As if anyone who’d had her legs locked around them would believe that.
‘More asparagus?’ His eyes had snagged on her shoulder. Bare. Lightly freckled. And what was she wearing? Definitely no corsets today, no underwear at all, judging by the speed of his pulse, the just-got-up look acting like a come-to-bed look.
‘Are you still in your pyjamas?’
She held an olive between her fingers, gave him mouth-watering glimpses of her tongue and perfect teeth, as she stripped the flesh off the stone before she deigned to reply. ‘Nope, this is day-wear. A one piece shorts playsuit, elasticated at the waist, the perfect combination of comfort and practicality.’ She flashed him her first full-on grin of the day. ‘The rabbits are ironic, by the way.’
‘Rabbits?’ Who the hell said anything about rabbits?
‘Yellow and green ones, in the print, see?’
As she leaned forwards to show him, he missed the rabbits, caught the glorious thrust of bare breast through the fine creased cotton, and was fiercely reminded how tight jeans and erections didn’t mix, especially not on bar stools. Casually, he slid to stand, to ease the problem.
‘So, if we’re done with the salad shall we progress to the pole?’
Sauntering across, coming to rest with his shoulder against the wall. Possibly a rash move, given the constriction difficulties he already had, but it was a distraction. Not that he thought there was the remotest possibility she was going to oblige, but somewhere along the line getting a spin from her had become a challenge, and he knew how he was with challenges.
‘Okay. You win.’ She was coming towards him now, all self-contained, self-assured.
All in control.
And then he was picking his jaw off the floor. First at the way she caved, then at the way she rose high onto her tip-toes, stretched out one easy arm, grasped the pole, followed with a bend of her knee, a twist of her ankle, and then swung, elegantly, arching, oh-so-slowly. Spinning, one, two, three
‘So why did you?’
Reproachful. One step easier than accusing.
‘It was going too fast. There was too much heat. You must have felt it?’
‘Maybe … ’ Relenting. A touch.
‘I needed to be sure you wanted … ’ Not quite right. He cleared his throat. ‘I needed to make sure our aims coincided – before we went any further.’
The tiniest twitch of a secret smile. ‘And?’
‘I told you before, I’m a short term guy, I don’t do commitment.’
‘Huh … ’ One snort. Of recognition?
‘The way I work, there’s no obligation, and no disappointment. No emotion, no broken hearts, no-one’s let down.’ He baulked inwardly at this impromptu mission statement, polished like he paraded it on a regular basis. ‘It’s a win win situation.’
‘Ah.’ She nodded slowly. Narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean a kind of friends with benefits thing?’
He hesitated. Big time.
She really didn’t get this, did she? Since when had he felt the need to explain himself to a woman about sex anyway? And since when did yesterday’s mascara smudges look so sexy?
‘Less of the friends, more of the benefits I’d say, majoring on the pleasure.’ And so much tidier than saying ‘sex for the hell of it’.
He caught her tell-tale eyebrows as they flew skywards. This had to be a whole new ball-game for her.
‘Thanks for explaining. I’ll give it some thought.’ Gently chewing on Parma ham, lips curving into a smile, but for herself, not for him. Eyeballing him straight now, as she fiddled with one slender, slipping shoulder strap. ‘Like I told you before, I don’t really have space in my life for guys right now, however they’re packaged. Put last night down to the water and the moonlight, it was an aberration, and I promise it won’t be happening again.’
Great. She was talking, even if she was back to the no-guy track.
As if anyone who’d had her legs locked around them would believe that.
‘More asparagus?’ His eyes had snagged on her shoulder. Bare. Lightly freckled. And what was she wearing? Definitely no corsets today, no underwear at all, judging by the speed of his pulse, the just-got-up look acting like a come-to-bed look.
‘Are you still in your pyjamas?’
She held an olive between her fingers, gave him mouth-watering glimpses of her tongue and perfect teeth, as she stripped the flesh off the stone before she deigned to reply. ‘Nope, this is day-wear. A one piece shorts playsuit, elasticated at the waist, the perfect combination of comfort and practicality.’ She flashed him her first full-on grin of the day. ‘The rabbits are ironic, by the way.’
‘Rabbits?’ Who the hell said anything about rabbits?
‘Yellow and green ones, in the print, see?’
As she leaned forwards to show him, he missed the rabbits, caught the glorious thrust of bare breast through the fine creased cotton, and was fiercely reminded how tight jeans and erections didn’t mix, especially not on bar stools. Casually, he slid to stand, to ease the problem.
‘So, if we’re done with the salad shall we progress to the pole?’
Sauntering across, coming to rest with his shoulder against the wall. Possibly a rash move, given the constriction difficulties he already had, but it was a distraction. Not that he thought there was the remotest possibility she was going to oblige, but somewhere along the line getting a spin from her had become a challenge, and he knew how he was with challenges.
‘Okay. You win.’ She was coming towards him now, all self-contained, self-assured.
All in control.
And then he was picking his jaw off the floor. First at the way she caved, then at the way she rose high onto her tip-toes, stretched out one easy arm, grasped the pole, followed with a bend of her knee, a twist of her ankle, and then swung, elegantly, arching, oh-so-slowly. Spinning, one, two, three
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