THEY TOOK A cab back to her apartment.
Although she kept her eyes fixed ahead, he could feel her tension. She was so still she barely seemed to be breathing.
Wondering if she was nervous, he reached out and covered her hand, closing his gloved fingers around hers.
She sent him a glance that told him she wasn’t nervous. He’d expected indecision and doubt, but there was no sign of either and everything he saw in her eyes made him want her even more than he already did.
The evening hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d planned. As for what happened next—
He’d intended to see her safely to her door and then leave. That would have been the safe, sensible thing to do but when they reached the front door of her apartment building she turned to him.
There was something in her eyes he hadn’t expected to see. A challenge. He wasn’t sure if she was challenging herself or him.
“Do you want to come in?” She sounded breathless, as if they’d both sprinted the length of Fifth Avenue instead of cruising in the warmth of a cab.
Did he want to go in with her? The answer was yes, but whether he should was a different question altogether.
What was she thinking?
What was going on in her head?
It was snowing again, and he reached out and brushed the flakes from her hair. Had he ever felt temptation like this? If he had he couldn’t remember it. Selfish and single-minded, Alison had called him. And maybe it was true, because he was about to be selfish again. “You’re not the sort to invite a man in after a first date.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I want to be.”
“So is this another Challenge Harriet?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that if you want to come in, then I’d like that.”
She was so straightforward. So honest. It was one of the things he loved about her. Liked, he corrected himself quickly. Liked, not loved.
He quieted his conscience by reminding himself that she wasn’t a child. She was a woman with a mind of her own, and it seemed that mind had been made up. Who was he to talk her out of doing something they both wanted? And it wasn’t as if it was complicated.
What he wanted was simple.
Driven by a need he couldn’t quite identify, he cupped her face in his hands, taking his time.
The whole time she’d been living in his apartment, he’d thought about kissing her. By the time she’d moved out, he’d found it hard to think about anything else.
None of his thoughts had come close to reality.
The moment his mouth touched hers, he realized that there was nothing simple about this. Nothing simple about his relationship with Harriet. Nothing simple about the chemistry that burned through them, or the way she made him feel.
Her lips were cool and soft and he felt them part under the pressure of his. He kept it gentle, exploring her mouth with slow easy kisses intended to relax her, but they created nothing but a delicious, dangerous tension and slow and easy swiftly turned into raw and passionate. After five seconds of kissing her he was so aroused that for a moment he forgot that they were standing outside her apartment in full view of anyone who happened to pass.
Not that many people were passing. It was a winter night in New York City and most people were tucked away inside.
Ethan had his own internal warmth, all of it generated by kissing Harriet. He felt her arms wrap round his neck and her body press against his. If she was undecided about what should happen next, there were no outward signs of it.
Above them the sky was inky dark but the street was bathed by the ghostly wash of lamplight. He felt the snow, light as the air it floated through and he felt her sway and then wrap her arms round his neck and press closer. She molded herself against him, delivering hot, melting kisses that burned through the last of his doubts. He could feel her soft curves through her coat, felt temptation and promise. He also felt her shiver.
It was the shivering that cut through the brain-clouding desire.
He rubbed his hands down her arms and then folded her close, using his body to protect her from the icy bite of the winter air.
She felt fragile, but he knew she wasn’t fragile.
“It’s cold.” Although right now he didn’t feel cold. He felt nothing but heat.
She stayed in the shelter of his arms, her forehead resting on his chest so that all he could see was the top of her head.
He had a feeling she was making a decision about something, hovering on the edge of something, not sure whether to step forward or not. He probably should have stepped back, but he didn’t want to.
For a moment she said nothing, and then she lifted her head. Her eyes shone with anticipation. “It is cold. Shall we go inside?”
She was inviting him in and it was obvious that she had more than coffee and warmth in mind.
A better man than him would have refused. He probably should have refused. But somehow he found himself following her up the stairs to her apartment. She’d added a few more festive touches since he’d helped her with the Christmas tree—a bowl of silver pinecones, strings of Christmas lights that added warmth to the welcome.
Apart from books, his apartment was minimalist. So minimalist that his sister teased him that if anyone broke in they’d leave empty-handed because they’d assume the place was unoccupied. Standing in Harriet’s cozy apartment he wondered whether perhaps he should buy a few cushions. Maybe a plant or two. A rug like the one she had, in muted shades of green?
There was no overhead lighting, just lamps that bathed the room in a golden glow, picking out the sunlit yellow walls and the blue sofas. Fresh flowers provided a bright splash of color on a day when the world outside the window was winter white. It was like being outdoors on a sunny day. Just stepping over the threshold instantly made a person feel better.
“Would you like a drink?”
He wondered if she was having second thoughts.
“Not unless you do.” What he wanted was her. Shy, or not shy, he didn’t give a damn as long as she was naked and with him all the way.
They exchanged a single look and then she was in his arms again and he was kissing her as if this was going to be the last thing they ever did on this earth. They crashed into the door, their combined weight slamming it shut and he braced his arm against it, caging her.
She breathed his name against his lips, then fumbled with his coat and he took over, dealing with buttons as he crushed her against the door and claimed her mouth with his. They kissed as if they had no choice in the matter, as if it were life-giving, as essential as breathing. They kissed without pausing or breaking off as they undressed. Her hair clung to the wool of his coat and he pushed it away from her face, his fingers sliding through snow-dampened strands of scented silk as he devoured her mouth with his.
His coat hit the floor first, then hers, closely followed by the rest of their clothes.
He’d promised himself that if this ever happened he’d take his time and savor every second, but now there was nothing but urgency and desperation as if by slowing down he might lose the moment or, worse, lose her. He caught a glimpse of creamy flesh, a flash of gold, the peep of dusky pink and he didn’t know whether to look or touch. All he knew was that he didn’t want this to stop.
He had no idea what would happen tomorrow but right now, today, she was all he wanted.
“Bedroom,” he groaned, and she pushed at his chest, gesturing vaguely with her hand.
Drunk with desire, they stumbled across the apartment to her bed and tumbled, crushing her beneath him. Heat and desire escalated to alarming levels. He kissed his way down her body, his tongue slowly tracing the rosy pink tips of her breasts. It was like being plunged straight into summer. Strawberries and cream. Sunshine and warmth. Her breathing grew choppy. Soft gasps turned to low moans, sweet sounds as he found all her sensitive places, leaving no part of her untouched or unexplored.
“Ethan, Ethan,” she murmured his name, shifting against the sheets, as he took liberties, shifting their relationship from one of friendship to deep intimacy.
And then he realized his wallet, with the one essential item he needed, was on the floor of the living room in his pocket.
In that one, brief moment he finally understood why people occasionally chose to be reckless.
It took all his willpower to drag himself away from her, especially as she protested.
“Don’t move,” he muttered, glancing at her splayed body the way a starving man might view his first home-cooked meal in a year.
He moved with the swift efficiency and focus honed and sharpened by years in the ER, and was back before she’d even had a chance to lift her head.
She stared at him, her gaze unfocused.
“Ethan—”
“I know—I know, baby.” He pushed her thighs apart and slid his hand under her bottom, lifting her. She moved with him, her body a graceful arch, and he was about to thrust deep when he remembered what she’d said about not enjoying sex very much. However desperate he was feeling, he was determined she was going to enjoy this. More than enjoy it, so he forced himself to back off and instead of entering her, he pushed her legs wider and kissed his way down to the golden shadows of her thighs, using his tongue to taste and tease, licking into her until she was crying his name and couldn’t stay still unless he held her. Finally, after he’d driven her half-mad, he eased himself over her, taking his time, holding back. He entered her slowly, by degrees, keeping his rhythm gentle and careful. He drew her arms above her head and locked his fingers with hers, holding her hands and her gaze as each thrust took him deeper. He felt her close around him, felt her flesh ripple against the sensual invasion, and even though it half killed him to do it, he forced himself to pause.
“Are you okay?” Somehow he asked the question and she nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes fixed on his as if he was the only stable thing in a shifting universe.
He eased deeper, keeping the same steady rhythm, and he felt the change in her, felt her body open to his and then close around him in silken intimacy. He paused, dropped his head to her shoulder, trying to delay his own release, but she was moving her hips, urging him on and whatever control he had slipped away from him. It was wild and crazy, so all-consuming that everything else faded into the background.
He heard her cry out and felt her nails dig hard into his shoulders. Then she tightened around him, her body ensuring that any attempt on his part to hold back would be fruitless. She called out his name as her climax tipped him over the edge and sent him into a free fall of pleasure.
SHE LAY SECURELY wrapped in the circle of his arms, feeling weak and sated. Her heart was still hammering and her skin was warm and damp against his. If there had ever been a more perfect moment she couldn’t remember it. She couldn’t believe that he was here, in her bed, solid, strong and real.
She hadn’t planned to end the evening in bed with him, but nothing had ever felt more natural. Maybe she was better at stepping out of her comfort zone than she’d first thought.
Maybe she really could be bad-girl Harriet.
Or maybe not.
She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to read anything into this but it turned out it wasn’t as easy to control her mind as she’d thought.
“So—” She was out of breath. “If that was lesson one of your dating master class, what happens in lesson two?”
His eyes were closed. “Give me a minute, and I’ll show you. Lesson two might be about to run into lesson one.”
She snuggled closer, making the most of the fact that he was here in her bed. “So—sex after a first date. Does that qualify me for bad-girl status?”
“I don’t know, but if it didn’t I have a few ideas of what I could do to you to help you earn that badge. Happy to help you live out your bad-girl fantasy.”
“You’re all heart.”
He opened his eyes. “Definitely not that.”
“You really think you don’t have a heart?”
She didn’t know how he could possibly think that given what she knew about him.
He had more heart than any man she’d ever met.
He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I don’t seem to find it easy to feel anymore. Early in my career I struggled with feeling too much. Every damn day I’d come home emotionally drained and I learned to manage it, but the price I paid is that now I don’t seem to be able to switch it on again easily.”
“But you did when you were married?”
“No. That was part of the problem. And Alison was the same. She was a news reporter. Some of the things she saw in the newsroom, raw footage, were probably almost as bad as the stuff I was seeing. And it has an effect on you. You learn to detach. You have to. It’s how you continue to function and do the job you’re supposed to do. But the downside is that you can’t just switch it on and off again. You don’t just flick a switch and become a normal human being again.”
“You seem like a normal human being to me. And I don’t know how you do what you do.” She was humbled by it. She knew there was no way she would be able to cope with the emotional pressures of his job, let alone the rest of it.
“Hey, I don’t know how you do what you do.”
She laughed. “I walk dogs, Ethan. That is not rocket science.”
“It is to someone like me. I’d find the responsibility terrifying. I’d bring them all back dead or injured.”
“This from someone who spends his days saving the lives of someone’s loved one, although having seen you with a dog, I’m not going to argue with the point you make.” She rested her head on his chest and smiled as she felt his fingers gently stroke her hair. “You were right, by the way. This is my first ever one-night stand. If I’d known how much fun it was I might not have waited so long.”
And she wondered why, when it felt like that, anyone would ever stop at one night.
She hated the idea that she’d never have a night like that again.
Was that how it was for Fliss? Daniel?
No. They were in love. It was different.
Ethan was silent for a moment. “I hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t a one-night stand.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. Have I just ruined your bad-girl status?”
“I don’t know. I guess that depends on what happens next.”
He turned his head and trailed his mouth across her jaw and upward, his lips lingering on the corner of her mouth. She felt his hands cup her cheeks and then his mouth, firm, coaxing and then demanding, slow expert kisses that demolished her ability to think.
“Ethan—”
He lifted his mouth from hers just enough to speak. “I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know what this even is, but right now I’m not sure I’m ever going to let you out of my bed again.”
She didn’t know where it was going, either, and she didn’t care.
She was dizzy with it.
She loved the shape of his mouth. The firm lines and the way the corners tilted when he smiled.
“This is my bed. We’re in my bed.”
“In that case you’re going to have to call someone to have me forcibly removed. In fact I’m not sure I’m going to move again. When I find the energy to pick up my phone, I’m going to call work and resign. We can both stay here until we die of thirst or starvation.” He slid his hand over her hip and lower, lingering on the junction of her thighs.
She caught her breath and arched against his seeking fingers, her body heavy with sensation and saturated with need. She’d never felt this way about anyone before. Not ever. Never felt this all-consuming, intimate connection with a man.
His touch was sure and skilled and she wondered how it was that he could know exactly what she wanted and needed when she hadn’t said a word. The only sounds that came from her lips were soft moans of pleasure and he captured them with his mouth, intensifying sensation with kisses that blew her mind.
And in the back of her mind, the only part that hadn’t blown a fuse, a question began to form.
If this wasn’t a one-night stand, what was it?