Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 7

Then again, midnight was long, long gone. They were back to pumpkins and mice.

But Max was still touching her. Still nuzzling her skin. Giving her tiny, cheris.h.i.+ng, tempting kisses. Urging her to kiss him back.

She shouldn't be doing this.

And she couldn't help herself.

His hand drifted higher and skated over her ribcage. So near, so near-she ached for him to touch her properly, and a little moan slipped out: a little do-it-now-because-I-can't-hold-on moan.

He cupped her breast, and she gasped, tipping her head back and lifting her ribcage slightly. Offering herself to him.

He made a murmur of satisfaction, and his thumb rubbed against her nipple. This time, when she let out a sigh of need, he s.h.i.+fted so that his mouth could track down the sensitive bit at the side of her neck, then over her collar-bones.

Her common sense went completely walkabout. She wanted him, and she wanted him right now.

Stunning. Simply stunning. It was the only way Max could describe the way she felt. All soft, warm, womanly curves. Yesterday, he'd wanted to unwrap her. Today, he could. Definitely birthday and Christmas and pa.s.sing-his-driving-test-day all rolled into one-and then some.

She was so responsive. He couldn't help teasing her. He nuzzled her skin, breathing in her scent, revelling at the soft warmth against his face. He'd thought yesterday that her curves were lush. Now he knew just how lush, and they thrilled him even more.

Forget the fact that he was supposed to be looking after her. Right here, right now, they were just man and woman, wanting each other. And there was no reason why they had to stop; no commitments elsewhere.

One perfect day. Twenty-four hours. Starting from when he'd parked outside her house yesterday morning and discovered that the shy, workaholic geek he'd been expecting had morphed into something much, much more. Fast-forward to the way she'd danced with him, her body moving perfectly against his.

This time, her body would be moving around his. And, he thought as he trailed a line of kisses between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he was going to drown in delight. It was still dark outside, but the curtains were thick enough that they wouldn't have let any light through anyway. So he couldn't see her, though the rest of his senses were more than making up for it.

She arched up towards him and slid her hands into his hair, pulling him to her. He smiled against her skin. Impatient? He teased her a little more-just to prove that he had some self-control-and then did what he'd wanted to do since he'd seen her in the mirror, the previous night. He drew the tip of his tongue round her areola, then blew on the damp skin.

Her little 'oh' of surprised pleasure gave him such a kick. He didn't think Cyn was a virgin-but clearly the men in her previous relations.h.i.+ps hadn't bothered to check that she was enjoying herself as much as they were. So this might just be the best way to end a perfect interlude. For both of them.

He sc.r.a.ped his teeth very gently across her nipple. She moaned; then, when he drew it into his mouth and sucked, she arched against him.

Good. But he could make it better still.

He switched his attention to her other breast. Her hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. This felt good, so good. He nuzzled his way lower, tracing the line of her ribcage with the tip of his nose and circling her navel with the tip of his tongue. Teasing her, arousing her, drawing out her antic.i.p.ation until she was at the point of spontaneous combustion. He wanted her to flare for him. Magnesium, burning bright. He wanted her to see stars.

She tilted her hips, her thighs parting, and he stroked his way along her soft flesh. This was starting to be torture. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take it, either. He needed to feel her body wrapped round him. Now.

'Yes,' she whispered huskily as his fingers cupped her.

He could feel her pulse beating against him, and her skin was almost sizzling to the touch. His own was in pretty much the same state, and he was fairly sure that more than a few of his brain cells had fried the second he'd touched her.

'Cyn,' he murmured, and pushed one finger inside.

This time, her 'oh' of pleasure was long drawn out. She moved against him, clearly wanting more.

Just as he did.

He couldn't wait another second.

He knelt between her thighs, but when he was one millimetre from entering her, Cyn choked out his name.

He paused. 'What's wrong, honey?'

'Condom.'

The word stopped him in his tracks. Oh, Lord. What had he been thinking?

Well, he knew what he'd been thinking. He'd been so desperate to touch and taste Cyn, so desperate to be inside her, he'd been thinking about nothing else.

He certainly hadn't been thinking about being responsible.

He took a shuddering breath. 'I haven't got one.' He swallowed hard. 'Have you?'

'No.' Her voice was a whisper. A quiver of misery. 'Don't all men carry them?'

'No. Not all the time.' Only when he planned to make love. Which he hadn't, yesterday. 'I wasn't intending this to happen. So, no.'

And, without a condom, s.e.x wasn't a good idea. Apart from the health risks, there were other potential consequences. Such as nine months from now.

He didn't do long-term relations.h.i.+ps. Not since Gina. Nothing serious, nothing that lasted for more than three dates. No matter what women said at the beginning of a relations.h.i.+p, eventually they expected to come first. And it wouldn't happen with him. His job came first. Always would. He wasn't going to make promises he couldn't keep. No for evers; no 'Hey, let's settle down and start a family.' It wasn't him. He was an architect first, last and foremost. The only babies in his life were made out of ancient bricks and needed very, very careful handling to restore them to their former beauty.

So there was only one thing he could do.

Back off.

Gently, he s.h.i.+fted to lie on his back beside her. Give him a few minutes, and his body would settle down again. His mind would snap into place. And then they could deal with it.

She began shuffling away from him. 'I'd better get up.'

Her voice was thick with disappointment. h.e.l.l. It must feel as bad for her as it did for him. The touching. The teasing. The antic.i.p.ation-and now the anticlimax, that sinking disappointment as their bodies realised they wouldn't get the release they craved. All because he hadn't expected this to happen. Because he hadn't been prepared. Because, despite the fact that he dated a lot, he didn't automatically a.s.sume that every date would end in bed. So he didn't carry condoms.

Well, there was something he could do. Something that would make them both feel better. Stop the ache. He reached out and grabbed her hand. 'Don't go.'

'I...'

'Cyn. I know we're both being sensible. That we can't do what we both want to do. But there's something we can do. Something almost as good.' Something that would definitely ease the ache.

'What?'

'Let me touch you,' he said softly. 'Let me taste you.'

He felt the s.h.i.+ver of desire run through her, and smiled. Oh, yeah. This was going to be all right, after all. He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. A deep, intense kiss that promised everything would be fine. And then he got to explore his way down her body again: her neck, the hollows of her collar-bones, the curve of her elbow, the soft, sweet-tasting skin just under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the hourgla.s.s curve of her waist. Touching and tasting. Her hands were back in his hair again, and she was moving restlessly underneath him, rocking her hips, making tiny impatient moans.

He took pity on her, and slid his hand back between her thighs. The first touch had her trembling. The second had her sighing. And then he replaced his hand with his mouth, and the result was a guttural, incoherent moan. She shuddered, and fell apart in his arms.

Wow. He'd never had a reaction that strong before. It made him feel like the king of the universe. The fact that he could reduce this clever, capable woman to a pile of mush...Amazing.

He s.h.i.+fted to lie beside her again, pillowing her head on his chest. Weirdly, he felt content. Not frustrated-even though he was still aroused and he knew there was no chance he'd be able to do what he really wanted and sink into her soft, heated s.e.x. He was just content. And Cyn...Cyn was still stunned into silence.

She curled against him, her hand flat against his stomach. And then he realised that her hand was moving. Downwards. It looked as if she was planning to return the favour.

He gasped as her fingers circled him.

'Cyn. You don't have to.'

She kissed his chest. 'I know.'

'It's not...I don't expect...' When she was kissing her way down his ribcage like that, no way could he string a sentence together. He couldn't even think one, let alone say it.

Her hair brushed against his abdomen, and he s.h.i.+vered. Oh, Lord. He tried again. Made a real effort, even managed to sound a lot more coherent than he actually felt. 'Don't feel you have to do anything. You're under no ob-'

And the rest of the word was lost as her beautiful mouth did what he'd wanted it to do, since the moment he'd set eyes on her yesterday morning: it wrapped itself round him.

CHAPTER SIX.

'YOU are the biggest jerk in the world,' Max told himself silently when the spray from the shower had beaten some common sense back into his brain. 'You took advantage of her. Lisa told you Cyn's a shy workaholic and needs protecting. Lisa told you you'd never get through her defences. So what do you do? You grab her.'

Though, to be fair, he had been provoked. She'd been the first one to start touching; he'd merely reacted. And he had told her she was under no obligation to do the same for him-well, he'd tried to tell her. Just his mouth and his brain hadn't been working in sync.

They were working in sync now. And he hated himself for it. How was he going to face her now? What was she expecting from him?

In his experience, women wanted 'for ever'. That was what Gina had wanted. She'd had their whole future mapped out: a fairy-tale wedding with a princess dress and a horse and carriage, a baby conceived on their wedding night in a four-poster bed on a tropical island, another baby two years later, a dog, a cat, a pony and a hamster, and probably another two children. Two girls, two boys. Nice and neat. Oh, and a pretty four-bedroomed cottage with roses round the door, in the village where her parents lived.

Her dream. Her parents' dream. His parents' dream. Everyone's dream...except his.

Max had tried to go along with it. He'd really, really tried, even though inside he'd been panicking that he wasn't ready for that depth of commitment, that he still had journeys to make and dreams to fulfil before he settled down.

And then the chance had fallen into his lap. The chance to head up the restoration department for an architectural practice in London-the job he'd been waiting for all his life. It had meant he'd get to work on some truly amazing buildings. To feel he was doing something important, something that really mattered. Something that would last for longer than his own lifetime. Something that made him feel alive.

Except it had also meant moving to London. Working long hours. Putting his job first.

Gina hadn't wanted to move to London. She hadn't wanted him to commute or be a weekend husband, either. She definitely hadn't wanted to give him a year or so to live his dream first before he settled down to fatherhood.

It had ended in tears, on both sides. He'd loved Gina-or had thought he loved her-but he'd discovered that he hadn't loved her enough. So he'd taken the job instead of marrying her and settling down.

Which made him a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

It was why he didn't date any more; he knew he was a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d and would always put his job first. h.e.l.l, he even had his own practice, now, so he was a million times worse than when he'd worked for someone else-he no longer had a manager to point out that he was putting in too many hours and needed to get a life outside. He didn't want a life outside; he loved his buildings.

And he'd just proved his selfishness all over again. He'd taken advantage of Cyn. Had a one-night stand with her-well, a one-morning stand-when he never, but never, did one-night-or-morning stands. Didn't do relations.h.i.+ps any more, apart from business ones.

How on earth was he going to sort this out?

In the bedroom, Cyn was putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to her make-up. Not as professional a job as Lisa had made of it, but it was pa.s.sable.

Though, right now, she could have done with the old caked-on stuff she'd always hated. Something that would mask her face, hide her expression from Max.

How was she going to face him again?

He'd been nice, let her shower first. But she'd noticed how he'd avoided looking at her when she'd walked out of the bathroom, fully dressed. She knew exactly what he was thinking: she'd thrown herself at him, therefore she was desperate, and she expected him to turn this embarra.s.sing mess into a proper relations.h.i.+p.

Worse, he might even think this had been a set-up in the first place.

What a fiasco. How the h.e.l.l was she going to explain it to Lisa? I jumped your boss's bones. Um, better start looking for another job, my friend. Sorry.

No, that wouldn't do at all.

She took a deep breath. It could have been worse. At least she'd thought about a condom before it was too late. She hadn't repeated her mother's mistake. Though it sure as h.e.l.l felt like it. She didn't do one-night stands, and the only commitment she planned to make in the immediate-or even foreseeable-future was to her job. In her experience, men weren't big on commitment anyway. Her father certainly hadn't been. And she wasn't expecting Max to declare undying love and ask her to marry him.

It had been s.e.x, that was all.

Good s.e.x. Very good s.e.x. As far as they'd gone.

No. She wasn't going to think about that. What it would feel like when he entered her. How his body would fit with hers.

Because it wasn't going to happen. No commitment.

So there was nothing for it. She'd have to bite the bullet.

The minute he opened the bathroom door, she said, 'About this morning-'

At exactly the same time as he said, 'About this morning-'

They both stopped.

'After you,' she said.

'Ladies first,' he countered.

She took a deep breath. 'I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I don't do this sort of thing. I don't know why...' Liar. She did know why. There was something about him that made her hormones sit up and beg. Big time. So Cyn Reynolds-the woman who had such a 'planner's cup' in her psychometric test results that the human resources department had actually photocopied it and pinned it on the wall-had acted on impulse for almost the first time in her life.

And even thinking about what they'd done together was sending trickles of desire through her veins. She had to shut them down. Fast. 'I...Look, can we just go down to breakfast? I need coffee.' And a sugar rush. Flaky, b.u.t.tery croissants topped with strawberry jam.

Though that made her think of something really bad. Of Max Taylor licking the b.u.t.tery crumbs from her fingers. Of his mouth sucking against her skin. Of...

Oh, she needed that coffee. Now.

Max wished he'd gone first, now. Explained that he didn't do long term. Explained that she was lovely, beautiful, clever-all the other things he knew women wanted to hear-but it was just him. He wasn't looking for permanent.

This morning shouldn't have happened. Wouldn't happen again. But he couldn't change the past, so there was no point in beating himself up about it.

He just wished he didn't feel so d.a.m.ned guilty about it.