One Hot Winter's Night by Serenity Woods Page B

began to undo the buttons of his shirt. When she reached the bottom button, she ran her hands lightly up his ribcage, then back down to tug at the waistband of his trousers.
    He caught her hands. “Whoa, slow down.”
    “Oh no, not this time.” She didn’t want to be slow and romantic. She wanted it hot and quick. This was all about sex, nothing more, and once they were done, she could get on with her life and try to put him to the back of her mind.
    She pulled him further into the bedroom, walking backward until she met a small chest of drawers with a bump. She’d forgotten how tall he was, though, and he knocked his head on the low lampshade hanging over them.
    He rubbed his head. “Ouch.”
    “Sorry.” Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she tried to undo his trousers again.
    For the second time he caught her hand. “Catherine, there’s no rush…”
    She glared at him. “Don’t call me that.” She pulled him toward her. “And there absolutely is a rush because I can’t wait. You’ve been torturing me all night, so you’ve only got yourself to blame.”
    “Torturing you? By doing what?”
    “Promising a woman multiple orgasms? Really, Heath.”
    He nuzzled her neck. “I meant it. I’ve a whole box of condoms to use up.” He cupped her breast and stroked her nipple with his thumb through the silky material of her dress.
    Desire flamed through her, and she sighed as he pressed kisses around her ear. He smelled heavenly, of aftershave, whisky, and divine warm male, and as she slipped a hand into his hair, she brushed the five o’clock shadow on his chin with her thumb. Did he know how much he was making her head spin?
    She tried to undo his trousers again, and he moved her hand away. She swore under her breath. He was trying to control the pace, and she didn’t want him in control. She wanted him as wild as she felt.
    She pulled him toward her again, forgetting about the lampshade until it nearly decapitated him.
    “Oh, fuck me.” He pushed it aside.
    “I’m trying,” she said indignantly, and he started laughing, which turned into an exclamation as she swept the items on the top of the chest of drawers onto the floor before lifting herself up onto them. She cut off his next words as she pulled him close for a kiss, threading her hands through his silver hair, tightening them. Opening her mouth, she thrust her tongue against his.
    He tore his lips away, breathing heavily. “Seriously, girl, you’ve got to slow down or it’s not only my grey hair that’s going to be premature.”
    She flicked open the button of his trousers and undid the zipper. “In that case you’d better get a move on.” She slid her hand inside. “Last time we did it your way—this time is for me.”
    He pushed her hand away, his eyes hot and exasperated. “At least let me get comfortable.” Retrieving the packet of condoms from his pocket, he threw them on the surface next to her. Then, sliding off his jacket, he hung it on the back of the chair as he levered off first one shoe, then the other.
    He rolled up his shirtsleeves a few times, and she realised he was warm, his hair damp around his temples. “Come on, Roberts, get a move on.” She grabbed him and pulled him toward her. He finally acquiesced, sliding his hands into her hair, kissing her deeply.
    What had got into her? She’d never been like this before. But the memory of what they’d done before and how she’d felt had heated her to boiling point. She was so desperate for him she’d lost all her inhibitions, all her fears. And there was something about him that made her feel like it didn’t matter. Here, alone with him in the room, the same as in Sweden, she could say anything, do anything, and it would remain between them, private, isolated from the rest of her life.
    She hitched up her dress and opened her legs wide so she could pull him close to her, laughing at the look on his face. “I told you I wasn’t wearing any