Read Online One Perfect Night by Rachael Johns - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachael Johns
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
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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
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
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