Misbehaving Under the Mistletoe. Heidi Rice

pristine white towelling had sensation shimmering across her skin. Heat rode up her neck as she felt the unfamiliar tenderness between her thighs—and the recollection of what he’d done to her, of what they’d done to each other, came flooding back. ‘I fell asleep?’ she asked, her voice groggy and confused. All she could remember was lying curled in his arms, feeling sated and better about herself than she had felt in a long time, her bottom butting his softening erection and his hands resting on her belly.

      ‘We both did,’ he said, his thumb running down her neck and over her collarbone, then slipping beneath the edge of the fine linen sheet to touch the tender skin of her breasts. ‘Really amazing sex will do that to a person.’

      She stretched, stifling a yawn, and luxuriated in the feeling of triumph.

      It had been really amazing. Hadn’t it?

      But then her nostrils caught the sent of tarragon and roast meat and her stomach grumbled audibly, making the flush spread.

      He chuckled. ‘Unfortunately, really amazing sex also makes you ravenous.’

      She lifted up on her elbows as he stood and walked across the room.

      ‘I ordered us some fancy French chicken dish to keep our strength up,’ he said as he lifted another monogrammed robe off an armchair.

      A quick grin lifted her lips. He wanted her to keep her strength up. That sounded promising.

      He returned with the fluffy white robe, held it up for her. ‘But you have to put this on first, or I’m liable to start ravishing you instead of the food.’

      She pushed back the sheet, and made herself hop out of bed, concentrating on her hunger to stave off the silly spurt of shyness about her nakedness. Which was patently ridiculous given what they’d been doing before she drifted off.

      ‘What time is it?’ she asked, shoving her hands into the sleeves.

      He wrapped the robe around her, tying the belt from behind and then hugged her round the waist. His nose nudged the top of her head. ‘Nearly eleven.’

      She’d been asleep for three hours!

      She pulled out of his embrace, swung round, dismayed and desperately disappointed.

      Would he expect her to go home? She had no idea what the etiquette for one-night stands was, but she had a feeling staying until the morning might be awkward.

      He frowned. ‘Damn, you’re a vegetarian, right?’

      ‘No, I …’

      He took her chin, his brow creasing. ‘Then what’s the matter?’

      She swallowed. She might as well ask. She had a right to ask. ‘What are we going to do after dinner?’

      ‘After dinner,’ he said, his lips quirking. ‘Well, now.’ Gripping her hips, he tugged her easily towards him. ‘After dinner, I figured we could try out the whirlpool tub in the master bathroom. Considering the rates this place charges, I haven’t made nearly enough use of it. And then—’ he wiggled his eyebrows comically ‘—I thought lots more really amazing sex wouldn’t go amiss.’ The teasing expression sobered a little. ‘If you’re not too sore, that is,’ he added. ‘You weren’t kidding when you said it had been a while for you, were you?’

      The thrill of arousal rushed through her, tempered by the little clutch in her chest at the concern in his eyes. She’d always thought of him as being dangerous. And he was. Even more so now she knew how devasting he was in bed. But how could she have guessed that he would also be such a considerate lover?

      ‘I’m not sore,’ she said, deciding to ignore his probing question. She certainly didn’t intend to tell him how long it had been. Or why.

      She placed her palms on his bare chest, felt the thunder of his heartbeat matching hers. ‘But you may still have to persuade me,’ she teased, twirling one of her fingers in his chest hair, the fine art of flirtation and temptation coming as naturally as breathing.

      He laughed, taking her finger and bringing it to his lips. ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’ He gave it a nip, then groaned as his stomach growled loudly. ‘But first we better eat. We’re likely to need it. For stamina.’

      She let all the deliciously dangerous thoughts of what the night ahead might hold drown out any doubts as he led her into the suite’s living room. But her steps faltered, her bare feet sinking into the silk rug, when she saw the ornate table laid with gilt-edged china plates covered with silver domes, a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice-bucket and a single tapered candle illuminating the table with the help of the fire glowing in the open hearth. Her heartbeat slowed at the romantic scene, but she quashed the sentiment as he held out her chair for her.

      She propped her elbows on the table and forced herself not to overthink things as she admired his darkly handsome face in the flickering light.

      He was only hers for one night. That was all she wanted. One night of really amazing sex, which she wasn’t going to ruin—as she had so many times before—with misguided hopes of romance.

      ‘Voilà!’ He whisked the dome covering her plate with a flourish. ‘Tuck in.’

      Taking a sighing breath of the delicious scent rising from the plate, she lifted the heavy silver knife and fork, intending to do just that.

      Jace watched Cassie lick the creamy tarragon sauce off her lower lip and felt the now familiar heat pulse in his groin. Diverting his attention to his own plate, he sliced into the succulent chicken breast, let the rich aroma of butter and herbs go some way to dispelling the spicy scent of her that seemed to have invaded his senses.

      Problem was, he wasn’t just hungry for food. He took a swallow of the delicious dish. And controlling his appetite for Cassie Fitzgerald was proving to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated.

      After waking up with her curled in his arms, he’d lain awake for twenty minutes. Torturing himself with the feel of her plump breasts rising and falling against his forearm, her soft buttocks pillowed against his reinvigorated erection, and recalled their lovemaking in every exquisite, excruciating detail.

      He pictured her gorgeous breasts after he’d taken off her bra. The large, rosy nipples rigid with arousal as he teased the swollen tips with his teeth. Then her pale cheeks flushed with colour, her lips slightly parted, the harsh sobs of her orgasm as his fingers sank into the wet heat at her core. Her limp body draped over his shoulder. And at last, the incredible feel of her full lips caressing his erect flesh.

      He’d never seen a more erotic sight, and had been forced to stop her before he went off like a rocket. But he’d instantly regretted it when she’d lurched away, the desire and excitement in her eyes snuffed out by regret and panic.

      He’d never met a woman who was so effortlessly seductive, who could turn him inside out with lust without doing much more than breathing and yet was so unsure of herself.

      Some guy had clearly done a number on her. That could be the only answer. And as he’d listened to her sleep and resisted the urge to wake her up and ravish her all over again, he’d felt his curiosity—and his anger—grow.

      He’d struggled to get a grip on both before he did something idiotic. So he’d eased her out of his arms, and climbed out of bed to arrange dinner.

      While he’d run a bath in the enormous whirlpool tub, then sat in the lounge waiting for their meal to arrive, he’d contemplated exactly how he was going to play things for the rest of the night, and had come to a few important conclusions.

      Cassie Fitzgerald was sweet and sexy and just what he needed after his dry spell. He’d spent far too many months recently sweating over the direction of his business and more specifically figuring out the best way to cut the last of his ties to his ex-wife—and his sex life had suffered as a result.

      Maybe he wasn’t anywhere near as prolific as he had been in his teens, but he wasn’t a man who dealt all that well with