Interview with the Daredevil. Nicola Marsh

a leg around him, surprised when he murmured, ‘Me too,’ in her ear.

      Before she could ponder why a rich, gorgeous, adventurous guy like him would be anything other than happy he systematically ravaged her, starting at the top and working his way down.

      He ripped off her robe and her nipples instantly hardened as he stared at her breasts through the wet Lycra.

      Her simple navy one-piece was conservative by swimsuit standards these days but the way Roman devoured her with his eyes made her feel as if she wore the skimpiest, sexiest swimsuit ever.

      Not that she was wearing it for long.

      Hooking his thumbs under the straps, he peeled them down.

      Slowly.

      Revealing one breast first, then another, his hungry stare making her skin pebble.

      She sucked in a breath as he continued stripping her, kneeling in front of her as he tugged the swimsuit lower … and lower … his breath fanning her belly.

      Lower still and she stiffened as the swimsuit snagged on her butt. Using his hands, he slid them under the Lycra and eased it over and down her legs, baring her to him and she shivered, more from the intensity and hunger in his stare than the air-conditioned chill in the air.

      ‘Jeez,’ he murmured, his hands stroking her ankles, her calves, the backs of her knees, lingering on the insides of her thighs and gently nudging her apart.

      She watched him, so turned on she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, for wanting him to touch the part of her throbbing for him.

      Second after torturous second passed before his head eased forward and his mouth finally touched her where she yearned to be touched.

      Her pelvis arched as his tongue flicked her, once, twice and she whimpered, the tension within her spiralling out of control too soon, too fast.

      But she was powerless to stop it and as he spread her further, his tongue lapping at her, she came apart on a drawn-out scream.

      Senseless, boneless, she would’ve slid down the wall if his strong hands hadn’t braced her waist and as he kissed his way upwards, his tongue tracing a slow, scorching path towards her breasts, her need for him increased.

      ‘That was … ooh …’

      His mouth clamped around a nipple, sucking it while his hand kneaded her other breast, and the tension started again, coiling, tightening.

      She wanted to say that was spectacular, sensational, stupendous, and a whole host of other totally inadequate adjectives. But he didn’t give her time to think.

      Before shrugging off his robe he pulled his wallet out of the pocket, snaffled a foil packet, stripped off his board shorts as if it were the most natural thing in the world and made quick work of a condom.

      While she struggled to breathe as she watched the entire time.

      Time slowed as she watched him roll the condom over his arousal, thick and long, and she clenched her hands to stop from reaching out and finishing the job for him.

      When she finally wrenched her gaze away, she sucked in a breath, for he was looking at her the same way: wide-eyed, dazed and ravenous.

      Needing him inside her, now, she opened her arms to him and he didn’t need to be asked twice.

      His hands splayed her waist as he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him.

      He nudged her entrance and she moaned as he slid in, inch by exquisite inch, until he filled her.

      His mouth claimed hers as he started to move, gliding in and out, trying to keep it slow.

      But she didn’t want slow. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted the type of sex she’d never had.

      Her pelvis took on a life of its own as she bucked against him, urging him on and he obliged, pumping into her until she was mindless, clawing to the edge of another monumental orgasm before falling over the other side in a blaze of heat and glory.

      He came a second later, thrusting up so high she almost passed out with pleasure and as they clung to each other, sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the lamplight, she couldn’t help but wish she’d been this adventurous a long time ago.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      AVA had no idea about morning-after etiquette. How could she, when the only guy she’d ever slept with had been Leon and they’d been dating for ever before they’d finally had sex?

      There’d been no awkward mulling over what to say or when to leave or how to extricate herself gracefully from the situation then, for they’d practically been engaged anyway. They’d known each other so long, as family friends first, later as a couple, that sleeping together had been no big deal.

      Unlike now.

      Roman slid into his hotel bathrobe and belted it, looking as delectably sexy as he did without it.

      His hair spiked every which way, he had some serious stubble going on and the faintest dark circles under his eyes indicating he hadn’t slept much.

      Snap, neither had she.

      She wasn’t complaining.

      Trying not to cower under the sheets like the one-night-stand novice she was, she scooted up the bed, semi-sitting as he stalked towards her, aiming for post-coital cool when in fact she probably had bed hair and morning breath.

      Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it, a grand romantic gesture that merely added to the surrealism of their encounter.

      ‘I have to go. Meeting.’

      ‘No worries, I’ve got stuff to do too.’

      And if she didn’t get him out of here so she could shower and get her head screwed on right she’d make a mess of this.

      Roman had been a lovely distraction, an incredible, mind-blowing distraction, but she needed to refocus on getting the rest of her life back on track and the faster they made a clean break, the better.

      Gently extricating her hand out of his, she touched his cheek, the stubble rasping deliciously against her fingertips.

      ‘Last night was …’

      What? The most exciting night of her life? The best sex she’d ever had? The most spontaneous, adventurous, outrageous thing she’d ever done?

      She wanted to thank him, to explain what last night had meant to her—shedding her old life, welcoming her new—but one glance at his face and she knew she couldn’t say any of those things.

      For Roman had reverted to the suave charmer she’d first met last night, the guy whose lips quirked as if he found everything amusing, the guy whose eyes crinkled in the corners from laughing a lot, the guy who lived life on the edge and wouldn’t understand how monumental last night had been to a staid, regular girl like her.

      Smiling, he cradled her face in his hands. ‘I think this sums up what last night was.’

      His kiss was slow, sensual and steeped in eroticism. A kiss to remind her of what they’d shared; a kiss to ensure she’d never forget.

      When their lips eased apart all too soon her fingers convulsed against the sheets to stop from reaching out and hauling him back for more.

      ‘Thanks, Roman.’

      The second the words popped out she felt stupid. Did you thank a guy for sex? For the hottest night of your life? She had no idea of rules in this situation and for a girl who’d followed protocols her entire life she didn’t like this floundering.

      ‘My pleasure.’

      He touched her shoulder once before standing, the few centimetres separating them feeling like an ocean already.

      Last night had been about sex.

      Last