He felt his own jaw tighten with determination as he looked down at the chic boutique bag he was still carrying. Nicole had used the tissue-wrapped blue butterfly nestled inside as a weapon against him, telling him very sharply he didn’t belong in her world and she would not let him put even one small step into it. Nevertheless, her strongly negative reaction to the gift told him he could use it as a weapon, too, hitting at what obviously had some personal meaning to her.
“Would you like some coffee, Nicole?”
“Yes, please,” she answered without turning her head.
“You used to like cappuccino. My coffee machine can make it if that’s still your preference.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
A tight flat voice and still no glance around.
It increased Quin’s determination to crack the wall she was putting up between them. He made her coffee, opened a small box of Belgium chocolates, set both of them down on the low table which serviced the sofa closest to where she was standing. At the slight clatter of china on the glass surface of the table—or maybe it was the strong scent of the steaming hot coffee—she did turn, finally acknowledging his efforts to please her with a dry little smile.
“Chocolates, too,” she said as though mocking any attempt to sweeten her up.
“Since you’re so entranced with the view,” he drawled, mocking her right back. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it while I slip into something more comfortable. Excuse me, won’t you?”
The startled look on her face gave him immense satisfaction. He grinned to himself as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. It wasn’t his comfort on his mind. The aim was to keep tipping Nicole out of any comfort zone she thought she had, and there was nothing more effective to gain ground than a surprise attack.
Nicole frowned in confusion as Quin disappeared down a hall.
Slip into something more comfortable?
That was a woman’s line—a woman intent on seducing a man.
What was Quin playing at?
Champagne, oysters, an expensive gift, chocolates…were these things meant to melt some expected resistance to him? It made no sense. He didn’t have to play a seductive game to get her into bed. She was his for the taking. That was the deal and she wasn’t about to welsh on it.
He was probably getting his gear off to save the inconvenience of undressing later on. Quin had always been perfectly comfortable in his skin. And why not? He had a flawless male physique. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him naked again.
She moved to the sofa and sat down, sipping the hot creamy cappuccino in the hope of calming her nerves. She didn’t touch the chocolates. Taking any of them might suggest she was enjoying herself, thereby giving Quin the satisfaction of thinking he was seducing her.
This was not a love affair.
She wouldn’t let Quin draw her into thinking it could be.
He was playing a game with her. She couldn’t imagine him ever having paid money for sex before. No doubt he wanted to turn it into a conquest so his male ego would triumph over the means to the end he desired.
The coffee cup was empty and still he had not returned to the living room. Was he deliberately holding her in waiting, demonstrating who was now master of this situation?
Stop thinking of him, Nicole silently screamed at herself. He was winning by dominating her thoughts!
She rose from the sofa and returned to gazing at the view. Let him find her where he’d left her, ignoring the penthouse proof of his success at making money. Determinedly blanking her mind to everything else, she stood by the window, staring out.
But her instincts picked up Quin’s presence the moment he re-entered the living room. There was no sound of footsteps. He didn’t speak. She felt the atmosphere change as though some elemental force made it vibrate with a sudden flow of dynamic energy. She knew he was there, watching her, willing her to turn around and acknowledge him. Her whole body felt the tug of his silent command and she had to steel herself to deny it.
Let him come to her. She was here in his apartment for the night. That was the letter of the agreement between them. What he wanted to make of it was up to him.
He came. Her heart drummed his approach as though it sensed every footstep bringing him closer and closer to her. Then his hands were on her hips, sliding up underneath her top, unclipping her bra, reaching around to push the lace cups from her breasts, freeing them for his touch, his fingers lightly kneading the soft fullness, his thumbs fanning her nipples to a responsive tautness.
Nicole found herself holding her breath, her whole being consumed with the desire to feel. It had been so long…so very long…and Quin knew how to touch, how to excite, how to build a pool of pleasure that turned her insides to warm liquid. She finally released her breath and quickly sucked in more air as he lifted her top up over her head, removing the bra with it.
“Stay still,” he commanded, his fingers raking through her hair, parting it, lifting the long tresses from her back and pushing them over either shoulder to flow down over her breasts.
She stayed still, but could not prevent a convulsive little shiver as he kissed the bared nape of her neck, his mouth hot and seductively sensual. His fingertips feathered down the curve of her spine, drew tantalising circles on her rib-cage, moved slowly upwards until they reached the fall of her hair which he gently rubbed over her sensitised breasts.
“I always did love the feel of you, Nicole,” he murmured.
Don’t use the word, love, to me, she thought fiercely. Arouse me sexually all you like, but love is something you know nothing about.
His hands glided down to the waistband of her jeans. He pulled the stud apart, opened the zipper. Her stomach contracted under the warmth of his palms spreading over it as his fingers targeted the heat he’d already generated between her thighs. He knew how to touch there, too, softly, softly caressing the folds apart, using her own moistness to tease her clitoris, building an excitement that she knew would drive her beyond all control.
Her breathing quickened, little gasps escaping her lips even as she mentally fought to remain still as though nothing was really happening. She wanted Quin to think her body was simply responding naturally to nothing but expert stimulation. He, as a person, didn’t count. She stared unseeingly into the darkness of the night sky, telling herself she was just experiencing and taking pleasure in touch.
“Let’s get these clothes off,” he said gruffly, removing the intimate contact to hook his thumbs over the waistbands of her panties and jeans. Both garments were swiftly pushed down her legs. He lifted one of her feet, then the other, stripping them of the sandals as he also freed her of clothes.