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CHAPTER FOUR

NADIA nearly fainted with relief. Ethan put his hand on her lower back, pressing her forward to follow the maitre d’. She jumped—he had to have one of those trick buzzers in his hand, because he’d just about electrocuted her. The shock made her gulp, and she was hit by a single rational thought. Should she really have agreed to this when her pulse pounded an extra thirty beats per minute the closer the guy got?

Low blood sugar meant she had no choice, right? Those pastries looked too damn good. She glanced back at the display case once more before taking her seat. The sight made her giddy and her thoughts turned crazy again. Maybe she could claim some ground in her quest to intrigue him. Didn’t guys like girls who displayed healthy appetites? Wasn’t there something seductive if you licked off all the cream or something? If she could raise his want level, drop-kicking him later would have more impact. Hell, yes.

‘What do you feel like?’ he asked.

She hesitated, toying with some really inappropriate replies—but she figured she should stay subtle at this point to get him over the world’s worst movie trick. ‘I’m going to skip a main and go straight to dessert. Two desserts, actually, if that’s okay?’

His face lit up. ‘Sure.’

‘What about you?’ She mirrored his smile.

He rubbed his flat stomach, ‘You don’t mind if I do savoury while you do sweet?’

‘Not at all.’

Total truce. Or so she’d let it appear. At that point she spent some time studying the menu—purely to have a break from looking at him. Too much of that made her go vacant, and she wanted to stay on track.

‘They have an excellent wine selection,’ he said blandly. ‘Would you like some?’

‘Not just at the moment, but you go ahead.’ Her smaller physique meant she didn’t handle wine that well. She generally had it by the thimble, so she wasn’t going to be daft enough to have any now. She waited until the sommelier had left to get the bottle Ethan had selected without even consulting the list. ‘So how did you get us this table?’

‘I sent a message from the cinema—found out what time the film finished when you were in the little girls’ room beforehand.’

She sat back as the waiter poured Ethan’s wine, bristling at the phrase “little girl”. So he’d known he was in for bum-numbing time at the flicks. She flushed—hating being thwarted, hating feeling this hot. She needed to regain her equilibrium and act more grownup. She looked at the burgundy liquid. ‘Maybe I will have some of that too—thanks.’ One glass wouldn’t make her legless. And, frankly, she was overheated after that marathon movie and hearing Ethan mutter in French and then spinning her mind by bringing her to gastronomic paradise.

He waited while she sipped. ‘Is it okay?’

It was fabulous—smooth, incredibly drinkable and soothing. She sat back after ordering, her happiness skyrocketing at knowing divine food was coming soon.

‘Feeling better now?’ He looked sly.

‘Much, thanks.’ She sighed. He smiled, and inside so did she—no doubt he thought that if he added sugar and chocolate he’d have her as gooey as he wanted. He was so getting a surprise.

‘Did you have a nice night last night?’ he asked.

Last night? Oh—that’s right. She’d told him she was busy. ‘I was catching up with some friends.’

‘Yeah, you posted a lot of comments last night.’ His smile went evil. ‘You live more than half your life online.’

She took another sip of wine to bring her internal thermostat back down. ‘You’ve been snooping.’

‘It’s not snooping when you put it all out there for anyone to read.’

‘And you’ve been a bit active online yourself,’ she said, finally broaching it.

‘Ah.’ He settled more comfortably in his chair. ‘You’re mad at me for blogging about our dates?’

‘Not mad. Surprised. I didn’t think you liked the whole public angle. I thought you wanted to protect your privacy and all that.’

‘I’m not the one with contrary privacy issues,’ he said pointedly. ‘This whole thing isn’t actually about you and me, Nadia. Did you think we were going to keep it just between us? What would the point of that be?’

‘I’m still not sure what the point of any of this is.’

He chuckled. ‘Well, right now, the point is some damn good food.’

With perfect timing the waiter set the dishes down—both her desserts at once, as she’d requested. She pounced, spooning in the sweet. Her nerves scrunched with sensation. Oh, there had to be so much butter in this, so much fine sugar, and put together with so much skill in the kitchen. Edible ecstasy.

He hadn’t touched his meal, was just watching her reaction. ‘I take it it’s nice?’

‘Nice?’ she mini-screeched. ‘What kind of a word is nice? This is so much better than nice. It’s …’

He waited, smile quirking.

‘It’s indescribable.’ She didn’t have to fake blatant sensual delight at the dessert. It was genuine and impossible to hide. Frankly, she couldn’t get enough of it.

Grinning, he concentrated on his own meal—some meat thing that she really had no interest in. Not when she had the yum stuff.

She gave up on trying to converse—not when she had this to concentrate on. She took a bite from each, alternating while panicking about which one she was going to save for the very last bite. The decision was just about impossible. And she was not softening towards Ethan in any way whatsoever. She was not feeling a ridiculous kind of favour towards him because he’d been clever enough to get them here. She was not actually enjoying their conversation and the challenge he embodied.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked eventually. ‘You’ve gone very quiet.’

Well, she couldn’t talk when she was so busy inhaling all the cream. But now she was a little sugared up her fighting spirit revived. A divine dessert wasn’t going to soften her attitude. ‘I’m composing my write-up of this date for my blog.’

Something flickered on his face and he set down his cutlery and pushed his plate away.

‘What are you going to write about it?’ she asked, sweeter than her pastry. ‘I’m so looking forward to our next date where you “nail” me.’

‘I’m looking forward to that too,’ he answered, utterly unabashed.

‘My choice for the date, though, isn’t it? You wanted to go to the movies for the first.’

‘Okay, so what do you want to do?’ He conceded surprisingly quickly.

‘A day date, I think.’ Safe and out in the open, where lots of people would be around. She didn’t want to drop-kick him out of touch until the very last date, which meant she was going to have to play the first two just right.

‘A day date?’ Ethan sat back so the waiter could clear their plates.

‘Sunday afternoon suit you?’ Nadia asked. The sooner it was all over, the better.

‘Sure.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘I’m really looking forward to spending more time with you. You’re really good company.’

She suppressed a giggle at his not-quite-hidden sarcasm. Instead she lifted her glass and challenged him. ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to try to impress me.’

‘I guess it’s habit.’ He shrugged, but let loose that smile.

‘You always compliment?’

‘Always.’ He gazed intently at her. ‘And you don’t think that’s okay.’

‘It’s not necessarily a bad habit,’ she mused. ‘But it is if you don’t mean what you say.’

‘But I do mean it.’

‘Always?’ She put down her glass and frowned.

‘Sure.’

‘Really? Don’t you sometimes do it because you know it’ll make the other person feel good?’

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘It is if it’s not honest.’

‘All right,’ he said softly, and leaned across the table. ‘You want honesty? Here’s some for you—I think you look fantastic in that dress. I think you look really fantastic. I don’t want you to. It would be a lot easier if I didn’t find you attractive, but honestly I think you look.’

‘What?’

‘It’s indescribable,’ he said roughly. ‘Maybe you should feel what you do to me? Can you handle that kind of honesty?’

His hand shot out and grabbed hers, and before she could blink he’d pressed her palm to his chest. Through the cotton she could feel the heat, the fast, rhythmic pounding. Suddenly she could hear it too, thudding in her ears. Her own blood was pumping in time with his. And that wasn’t her body’s only reaction. She breathed more quickly, shallow. And worst of all was the softening—that warm, melting sensation happening in secret deep inside her. The readying for full possession by a body so much bigger and harder than hers.

She stayed frozen for five seconds too long, until awareness of their surroundings slowly returned. She was stretched across a table in a fine French restaurant, gazing into this guy’s gorgeous cinnamon-brown eyes like as if was mesmerised. She was feeling this intense, intimate thing …

Then she remembered her rule.

Don’t be too sexual.

And this was all about the rules. She swallowed, battling to return to the right regime. But every movement was sexual. Everything about him was sexual. He was a complete magnet and he knew it. But she was going to disarm him—be the one piece he couldn’t pull.

‘Oh, you’re good,’ she said, forcing coolness into her voice, sliding her hand out from under his and bringing it back to press her fist hard against her belly beneath the table-edge. ‘You like to have the women want you, don’t you? Maybe that’s the real reason you compliment so much—it’s not their need you’re filling, it’s your own.’

‘And you’re really good at coming up with fiction.’ He sat back, looking a ton cooler than she’d sounded. ‘Whereas I prefer facts. And I did my research on you.’

‘And what facts do you think you found out?’ Her temperature soared again as anger bubbled.

‘You put it all up there yourself. It wasn’t hard to find. That very first entry on WomanBWarned.’ He leaned forward. ‘Rafe Buxton, wasn’t it?’

She avoided answering by taking another sip of her wine, her blood drumming in her ears. How dared he bring that up? That was personal.

‘What were you thinking, going with a guy called Rafe in the first place? Weren’t the alarm bells ringing then?’ he asked, refilling her glass when she set it down.

‘I’m not discussing this with you,’ she snapped. ‘You’re unable to feel any empathy. All you want to do is push your agenda.’

‘Not true,’ he said, annoyingly quietly. ‘I only want to understand where you’re coming from.’

She just glared at him.

‘So he was a “virginity collector”?’

Heat blinded her—anger, yes, but incredible embarrassment too. She’d been so stupid, and she really didn’t want to relive it. Didn’t want to discuss her pathetic sexual past with such a shark. She didn’t want him to know it at all, so she had another sip of wine. A big one.

‘So your first was a jerk?’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t have to let it colour the rest of your life.’

Oh, she couldn’t not answer that. ‘What I won’t do is let him get away with it. He preys on young women who are getting their first taste of freedom. Finding independence.’ A tutor at a university, he dazzled naïve students with his good-looks and charm and intellectual ability—or at least that façade. Once she’d found out the truth she’d seen that those things were cultivated, not innate or truly deep.

‘But we all have to make mistakes. That’s part of being human.’

‘No,’ she disagreed. ‘There’s a difference between making a mistake and being abused.’ And Rafe had abused her—and several other young women. ‘Illusions shouldn’t be shattered like that.’

‘But everybody has to face reality some time.’

‘You think that’s reality?’ She was appalled. ‘So there’s no such thing as a committed, loving relationship?’

‘Happy ever after?’ Ethan shook his head. ‘No.’

His cynicism hurt, even though it shouldn’t have surprised her. But she could acknowledge a portion of truth in his words regarding that painful episode.

‘Maybe not at that age,’ she conceded. It had been her second year of university. She’d come from a small northern town and she’d been sheltered. Cosseted, really, by over-protective parents and brothers. As a result she’d been gullible and so easily dazzled. ‘I wasn’t looking for marriage. But there could have been some kindness and some fun. Not just being another number on his list.’ Not being anything but an object. It had been a complete game for him. And once he’d had what he wanted—her virginity—he’d gone on to the next. Another virgin. In the very same week.

Megan.

Only neither of them had known about the other. About all the others.

‘You wanted some respect?’

‘And honesty.’ He’d played them both together. And others. And once they’d found out, by talking at night at a party one night, their friendship had been forged. It was the one truly positive thing to have emerged from an otherwise crushing, humiliating situation. And it had led to WomanBWarned.

‘You’re really into honesty, huh?’ Ethan’s brown eyes burned darker.

‘There can be nothing without honesty.’ Certainly not trust. And without trust or honesty or respect there was nothing to support any kind of a relationship.

‘But you’re not honest.’ With careful deliberation he struck at her integrity.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘No.’ He shook his head, a wry smile softening the accusation. ‘You’re not. You hide behind your website. Behind your stature. All wide eyes—like you’re this little thing who has no control over the situations you find yourself in.’

Stunned, she stared at him—he was wrong. ‘That’s not true.’ She hated how people perceived her as weak because she was little. She certainly didn’t think she was weak herself. She spent her life proving she wasn’t. ‘I was tricked,’ she said. ‘But I admit my own responsibility, my own stupidity.’

‘So you won’t ever be that stupid again. And you’re out to prove it with your website.’

Nadia swallowed more wine to hide the mess of emotion inside her. He made it sound so simple. But there was much more to it. It went so much deeper. She stared down at the stem of her glass and breathed in. The oxygen hit, enhancing the flavour of the wine.

‘So tell me about working for Hammond. Is it as great as they all say?’ He diverted the conversation, his whole tone lighter.

She didn’t lighten to match. Too late she realised he was following his game plan—”get them to share”. He thought by inviting her to spill her guts to him she’d actually like him for it? Even more wrong.

‘It’s fine. What about your work? Do you enjoy it?’ It was his turn to talk. She’d find his weakness and play on that—his rules.

‘It’s fine.’ He echoed her words dismissively.

She looked up, finding his attention intensely focused on her. She couldn’t look away from him. Once more the room receded and there was nothing but his fire-filled deep eyes.

Her senses were swimming now—from the sugar, the warmth, the wine. Not the company. She shook her head to clear the confusion.

He broke the intensity, smiling at the waiter and signalling for the bill. ‘Time for us to depart.’

The cab ride home passed far more quickly than the one they’d taken earlier. This time she wasn’t bothered by the seemingly small space they shared in the back, and there was far less space between them now. She still felt the way his heart had pounded against her palm and her own heart beat faster. Exhilaration, anticipation. Because in moments he’d go for the goodnight kiss and she’d do a quick step to the side. She couldn’t wait.

He sat quiet, appearing to be deep in thought. She wondered what about. Hot and half floating, she turned towards him to read his expression better.

He glanced down and smiled.

It was like being tossed into an ice-water bath. Shocked, she blinked and looked again. But her first instinct had read it right—there was none of her desired outcome in his eyes now, none of that heat. Her dress, her wide eyes and smile were having no effect. Despite him saying earlier he thought she looked fantastic in the dress. They’d been meaningless words. Because right now he was clearly more amused by her than attracted. She leaned a little closer as the cab turned a corner, but still nothing. Just benign amusement—and withdrawal. She could feel him pulling away.

Why? Where was the move? Where was the “best sex” those women had talked about?

The cab pulled over and Ethan got out, paying him off. He glanced and saw her surprised expression. ‘I’ll see you to your door and then walk.’

‘I’m not inviting you in for coffee,’ she said, stupidly hurt by his impersonal politeness.

‘I’m not expecting that,’ he answered, as if he couldn’t care less.

And he couldn’t, could he? Anger surged again as she realised this guy was totally not interested. Why not? Why wasn’t he, when according to all reports he slayed any female who had the misfortune to slide across his path?

He rested his hand on her back as she turned to walk up her path. Anger burned hotter when she felt again the electric effect that one touch had. His hand was all she could feel. Impotent emotion clogged her throat as she blindly stepped forward.

But because she felt that touch so acutely she felt the stroke of his thumb upwards across her spine—a slow, intimate sweep. The smallest of signals.

Oh, thank goodness—there it was. Satisfaction slammed into her. The man couldn’t help himself. Finally he was going to go with some of his moves. She walked slowly now, enjoying the thrill of him moving so close behind her, smiling as she imagined her refusal scene. She’d keep it polite tonight, but playful too—to give him the illusion of possible success in the next date or two.

But in reality it was impossible. For sure.

She unlocked her door and flicked the switch just inside so light spilled from the room out onto the path. Then she turned to say goodbye, her smile impossible to contain.

He really was very tall up there, still in the shadows, looking down at her. She could tell he was smiling too—but suddenly she knew it wasn’t a lust-fuelled smile. It was that amusement again. Was he laughing at her? Her certainty of success faltered.

‘Thanks for an interesting evening, Nadia.’ Loaded with irony.

He was laughing. She’d been wrong about that touch. He wasn’t going to do it—no move, no kiss. There was nothing. She felt piqued. And disappointed. And anger swamped her. She was not going to let him go without scoring a point of her own.

‘I’ll see you Sunday,’ he said in farewell.

Just before he turned she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and stood on tiptoe as high as she could.

And pressed her mouth to his.

He froze. Didn’t pull away, but didn’t respond either. So she worked a little harder, stroking his lower lip with her tongue. A faint response then—the smallest flinch of his muscles. But it was so faint she let go and stepped back, suddenly aware she’d made a massive mistake.

‘What was that for?’ he asked, somehow closer despite her retreat.

‘Curiosity,’ she flipped back at him, frantically thinking up her defence. She’d crashed out of the floating feeling now. ‘I wanted to know if you’re as amazing as they all said.’

She felt his muscles firm even more and he loomed closer still.

‘And the verdict?’

‘Not as hot as I’d been led to believe.’

‘But I thought one of your top tips on first dates was not to get too hot.’

‘You were playing by my rules?’

‘What? You thought you were playing by mine?’ He laughed. She could feel the vibrations in the scarce space between them. ‘You really have no idea.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘But, darling, you don’t just lean in and stick your tongue down a guy’s throat.’

Mortification and the hated goosebumps made her skin—and soul—painfully sensitive. So she covered with mock incredulity. ‘Are you giving me kissing advice?’

He was a jerk—she hadn’t stuck her tongue down his throat and he knew it.

‘A little lesson in seduction, if you like.’ He stepped even nearer. ‘I think you need it.’

She tried to push him away, but he was a mountain in front of her now—immovable and impassable. Her hands were tiny on his chest, her fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his shirt.

‘To begin, Nadia,’ he said softly, and with light sarcasm, ‘less is more.’

‘Is that right?’ she snapped, smarting, tipping her chin high to glare into his eyes, deliberately digging her nails into his skin now.

He leaned closer, resting his hands on the wall behind her as he bent, his words whispering across her face. ‘Anticipation is everything—didn’t you know?’

‘It’s only everything if the end result is a disappointment,’ she said caustically. ‘If the end result was as amazing as it’s meant to be, then the anticipation would be forgotten in the heat.’

‘Oh, you’re wrong.’ He smiled. ‘You need to live moment by moment.’ His head lowered. ‘It’s much more fun.’ He paused, his mouth a millimetre from hers, as he gently instructed, ‘You start with lots of soft, teasing touches.’

His lips brushed hers lightly, just once. But the second she went to snap back at him he did it again. Then again and again and again. Until it was lots—as he’d said. Not deep, hungry kisses, but slivers of rich sensuality that made her open her mouth for more before she’d thought to stop it. Then she couldn’t think at all—she only wanted to move closer for more.

But he kept them light, lifting back as she tilted towards him.

‘Uh-uh,’ he teased. ‘You keep it the same—don’t go deeper until she’s begging.’

With one hand he played her like an instrument, gliding one finger after the other across her neck. Not making music but pleasure, with gentle touches. But she knew the strength was there.

And she wanted it.

‘You keep doing it, keep touching, until she can’t think of anything but more, more, more.’ He punctuated the words with teasing kisses—now across her jaw and her cheekbones, trailing lazily across her face, until she turned her head to put her mouth back in his path. Because she hadn’t been able to think of anything else for eons now.

Vaguely she understood the extent of his charm and experience—he hypnotised with mere words and the most restrained of touches, influencing her mood and her mind and making her want to move. At first she didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to push him away, but something burned. She didn’t want to be his mindless plaything. And then she realised he’d told her how to captivate him right back—with soft, teasing touches.

She unfurled her fingers, pressing them lightly on his chest. She felt his flinch as she did so. Through the cotton shirt she could feel his heat. With the tips of her fingers she smoothed slightly downwards, feeling his abs tighten all the more. Then she went north, spreading until she felt his hard nipples. She circled them and began him kissing back—nibbling at his lips, then pressing teensy, saucy smooches across his slightly stubbled jaw.

She realised he’d frozen. One hand was still pressed on the wall behind her, the other still cupped the back of her neck, but his own kisses had stopped.

Fear flashed—he was about to reject her touch again. But then she heard it. In his roughened breathing, in the rigidity of his body, she recognised the strain of holding back.

She smiled, moved her hands the tiniest bit faster, firmer, kissed more feverishly along his jaw. Little kisses, tormenting little touches. Only trouble was she was tormenting herself just as much—she wanted more.

He stopped her retaliation by grabbing her hands and forcing them down behind her back. The sudden manoeuvre thrust her breasts into his chest. Sensation shimmered down her body and on pure reflex she arched her spine, pressing closer against him.

His head came down, his mouth crushing hers. Nothing soft and teasing any more. Her neck stretched painfully as he forced her head back and plundered. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, deep and rhythmic. She sucked on it and she felt the growl, felt him tighten even more. With incredible strength he lifted her, sliding her up between his body and the wall—chest to breast, pelvis to pelvis, hand to hand, mouth to mouth.

He didn’t thrust against her—just pressed his hips into hers as hard as possible, pinning her so she could feel all those inches. Her senses rioted—screaming with overstimulation while demanding yet more. More skin, more heat. All her instincts were insisting she get closer. She kissed him back as hard and furiously as he kissed her. Rough and hot and reckless. The force of each other’s passion merged and grew into something even more powerful between them. Blistering and insane. She shook with the fierceness of her need, aching to cling closer to him. But he still had her hands, so she clung with what she could—her mouth and then her legs. Hooking one around his waist, angling her body so she was more open to his. For a moment it was heaven as she felt him hard against her.

But he tore his mouth away, his hot breath gusting as he groaned, his grip painfully crushing her fingers.

‘I’m not going to make it that easy for you, honey,’ he said ferociously.

It was torture. It was bliss.

With each ragged breath his chest slammed against her taut nipples.

‘I could move this on here and now. Take you to your bed and finish this off. But why the hell should I?’ He was furious. ‘In the morning you’d be blinded by regrets. You’d convince yourself you’d been used all over again. You’d label me a seducer. Whereas the reality is you started this. But I’m stopping it.’

Her whole body throbbed, and painfully she lowered her leg from its tight curl around him. She was so sensitised she could feel her blood beating everywhere. He let her go and stepped back. She slid down the wall. She couldn’t look up at him. Instead she stared at his hands—bunched into fists at his sides.

‘I’m not going to take advantage of a woman who’s had one glass of wine too many.’

‘I have not—’ She broke off. Actually, him thinking she was tipsy was the perfect excuse for her incredibly stupid behaviour. Hell, maybe she was tipsy. Her head definitely felt cloudy—and her blood was running so quickly in her veins it was dizzying. With only some cake for dinner and then that wine … Yes, that was definitely her problem. And frankly she’d rather he thought she was a cheap drunk rather than this easy sober.

Oh, now the regrets poured in. The self-hate. She had been so close to being his latest conquest. So damn easy. And he was right, she’d been the one to start it. He hadn’t even wanted to start—only she’d pushed his buttons. Deliberately. Because she’d thought she could control it—and him. What a fool she’d been.

He was watching her too closely, knowingly. ‘You want to put it down to the wine, Nadia? Would that be convenient for you?’

Oh, it would. But she knew she couldn’t. She’d been hot for him from the moment she’d laid eyes on him tonight. And even though she knew he was a jerk she still wanted him. Stupid, stupid hormones. ‘I’d like you to go now.’

He shook his head. ‘You said you were honest. So be honest now and admit that you’re attracted to me as much as I am to you.’

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Yeah, here was the most terrible thing: she was into him. There was something about him that she really wanted. But this was nothing at all special to him. He hadn’t even wanted to kiss her, and only had because she’d started it. Hey, if it was offered on a plate he’d oblige. It was humiliating.

But suddenly he stepped forward, slamming her back against the wall of the house with his big body.

‘You know it’s true,’ he said, low and angry in her ear. ‘And now the anticipation is even stronger, right? Because now you know what it’s like. How good we’d be.’ His head lowered, his lips intoxicatingly close to hers. ‘You’re going to lie in bed tonight and not sleep a wink because all you’ll be able to think about is how much you want me. You’ll think about everything you want me to do to you. And what you want to do to me.’

‘Yeah, I know exactly what I want to do to you.’ She tensed and pushed uselessly against his chest. She’d certainly sobered up now. The guy was the most conceited jerk, and she was furious with herself for falling for his façade and his skills—for being pleased that he wanted her when it was no compliment. It wasn’t her he wanted. It was any woman. It was just that she was the one in front of him now—who’d made it even easier than usual.