On the First Night of Christmas.... Heidi Rice

sent him a quelling look, but the pretty little flags of colour that appeared in her cheeks contradicted it. ‘I don’t think your ego needs that kind of validation,’ she said so cautiously, his lips twitched.

      ‘Probably not.’ He settled back, stretched his arms across the sofa cushions, and noted that she was now perched so precariously on the edge of her seat it was a wonder she hadn’t toppled onto the floor. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, so the fact that he found her wariness refreshing was probably a bit perverse. ‘But I’ve got to admit I’m fascinated. Weren’t you a little young to have a massive crush on me?’

      ‘I was thirteen,’ she said, the tantalising sparkle of annoyance returning to her eyes.

      ‘Oh, right. Thirteen. An old woman, then,’ he teased.

      ‘I was in love.’ She frowned slightly, reconsidering the implications of the statement. ‘Or at least I thought I was. At the time.’

      ‘Is that a cryptic way of saying you haven’t got a massive crush on me any more?’

      Her stern expression cracked a little. ‘You covered me in dirty water, then tried to deny it. Do I look like a masochist?’

      Leaning forward, he skimmed a knuckle down her cheek. ‘For the record, it was an accident. And I did eventually see the error of my ways.’

      Her gaze skittered away, but this time she didn’t shift out of reach. ‘Tell me something,’ she said softly. ‘Do you try to kiss every woman you meet?’

      He smiled. Nuts or not, her candour was captivating. ‘The answer is no.’ Sitting up, he nudged the riotous curls of chestnut hair over her shoulder. ‘Not every woman.’

      Her gaze came back to his and her throaty chuckle made reaction coil in his gut. ‘You must have kissed quite a few, though, if you can’t remember who they are.’

      He stifled a groan. Busted. ‘What can I say? I had a misspent youth.’

      He’d been reckless and easily bored as a teenager and had found it far too convenient to seduce women and then forget about them. Not something he was all that proud of now. But he’d eventually realised, like most hormonally charged boys when they became men, that quality was much more rewarding than quantity. And that women deserved to be savoured. And Cassie Fitzgerald was fast becoming a woman he definitely planned to savour. The only problem was, he didn’t want to rush her and risk scaring her off.

      ‘If it’s any consolation …’ he looped his finger in one of her curls, watched the silky hair spring back against her cheek ‘ … I can guarantee you, I pay a lot more attention now.’

      Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and he felt the jolt right down to his toes.

      ‘We could always give it another go,’ she said, a tentative smile lifting one corner of that lush mouth. ‘If you want.’

      ‘That sounds like a plan,’ he murmured.

      Caressing her nape, he threaded his fingers through the tendrils of hair then slanted his lips across hers. He wasn’t going to wait for a second invitation.

      Cassie braced her palms against his chest as his mouth captured hers. His lips were firm, hot, demanding. His pectoral muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

      Heat scalded the pit of her stomach and radiated out, sizzling and tingling across her skin. He raised his other hand, massaged her scalp to hold her in place. She gasped as reaction raced through her, and his tongue thrust into her mouth, exploring in intimate strokes.

      She clung on, poised over him as they sank into the sofa cushions—and desire spiralled and twisted inside her. It had been so long since she’d had a chance to feel a man’s heat, his mouth on hers, the hardness of his chest pressing into her breasts. And she certainly didn’t remember a kiss ever feeling this incredible.

      He lifted her head, nipped her bottom lip as he stared into her eyes. His hands cradled her cheeks, his quick smile making the pulse of desire settle lower.

      ‘Thanks, I enjoyed that,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘It’s been a while.’

      ‘For me too,’ she said, although she didn’t believe him. Anyone who kissed as well as he did had to practise regularly. ‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you kiss Jenny.’

      He stroked her cheek, pressed his thumb into her bottom lip. ‘Have you really?’

      She sat up. Why had she told him that? Talk about sad.

      He skimmed his palm up her bare leg. ‘So did I live up to expectations?’

      She nodded, not wanting to divulge exactly how strongly the simple kiss had affected her. It would only make her look more sad and pathetic.

      ‘Unfortunately I have an engagement …’ He lifted his hand to glance at his wristwatch. ‘In about half an hour. Otherwise we could take this further.’

      ‘That’s okay.’ She should have been relieved. He was letting her down gently. But she didn’t feel relieved, she felt disappointed. What had he meant by ‘take this further’? How much further?

      He shifted, his hand resting back on her thigh, stroking lazily. ‘You could wait here until I get back,’ he said, the heavy-lidded gaze as arousing as the feel of his rough palm on her skin. ‘Although you might get bored.’ His fingers slipped under the hem of her tunic, and she shuddered. He laughed. ‘And I wouldn’t want that.’

      Bored? How could she be bored when her body felt as if it were about to explode? ‘I don’t underst—’

      ‘Or you could come with me,’ he interrupted.

      Her breath gushed out. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying but it was next to impossible as the tips of his fingers drew lazy circles on her leg. Her sex throbbed, ached, begging for him to move higher still and stroke her there.

      ‘Where to?’ she heard herself ask as she tried to keep up her end of the conversation.

      ‘The Blue Tower Restaurant,’ he murmured, mentioning London’s newest hot spot. His thumb traced the edge of her panties, then dipped underneath and her breath sawed out in a ragged pant.

      Her hands fell to his shoulders, and she dug her fingers into the ridge of muscle, scared she was going to fall off the sofa. His green eyes watched her, the lids at half mast.

      ‘I don’t …’ She swayed towards him. What was happening? What were they talking about? Her skin flushed hot, then cold, then hot again.

      His tongue licked at her lips, then he cupped her head, his mouth taking hers in another mind-numbing kiss. Her heavy breasts flattened against the solid wall of his chest, the nipples squeezing into rigid, arching peaks.

      ‘Say yes, Cassie,’ he murmured as his fingers eased under the gusset of her panties and plunged.

      ‘Yes.’ The single word burst out of her mouth.

      ‘God, you’re so wet.’ He circled and rubbed her swollen flesh, pushed inside her, his thumb pressing against her clitoris. ‘You feel incredible.’

      She straddled him, her knees digging into the sofa, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his fingers continued to drive her into a frenzy. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All thought, all feeling concentrated on the nub of pleasure between her legs. The rigid length of him, confined by his clothing, nudged the inside of her thigh—and she rubbed herself against him, yearning to have him deep inside her.

      Her head dropped back and she moaned, heat soaring up her body. ‘Please, don’t stop.’

      His strained laugh brushed against her cheek. ‘I’m not going to stop.’

      And he didn’t, as the spasms of an unstoppable climax eddied up from her toes, coursed through her body and collided in her sex.

      ‘Let