‘I know,’ his voice was as dry as dust, ‘but I was brought up to make sure ladies get home safely.’
She waited in the courtyard, listening to the others calling good night, the rattling of keys in doors and the murmured inaudible conversation between Conor and Fliss, who sounded disgruntled.
‘Ready?’ he asked her when he re-joined her.
‘Yes, but you really don’t need to do this.’
The snap of a twig over to her left stopped Hannah in her tracks. Was that the scuff of a footstep? She put an arm on Conor’s to stop him. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Hear what?’
‘I thought I heard someone,’ she whispered.
Conor let out a small half laugh. ‘You’re a proper townie. Probably just an animal – we have them out here in the country.’
‘Very funny,’ said Hannah in a quiet voice, some instinct making her tense. Even though there was no sound, the hairs on the back of her neck stood proud. Logic told her there was nothing there but that funny sixth sense argued back. She glanced around but in the moonlight it was difficult to see anything but shadows.
She was grateful that Conor had accompanied her even though he was shaking his head with patronising exasperation.
‘Promise you, whatever it is, is no bigger than a weasel or a fox. If it was anything bigger like a deer you’d hear it crashing through the undergrowth.’
He set off again and she hurried after him up to the front door.
‘Here you go, madam. Have you got your key?’
There was an electric silence between them and she made the mistake of glancing at his lips, remembering in a sudden rush the last time they’d been outside a door together. His mouth twitched. Oh God, he remembered too. The two of them kissing furiously, his hand tugging at her top, her fingers undoing buttons, as he fumbled with the key card.
They stood in awkward but very-aware-of-each-other silence in the tiny porch as she delved into her bag for her key. Her uncooperative fingers scrabbled about like fat sausages as she tried to gain purchase on the stupid thing nestled at the bottom of her handbag.
Conor leaned back against the oak post, his arms folded and a smile on his face as Hannah felt her face heat up. At last, she found it.
‘Got it.’ She held the key up in triumph, gripped between finger and thumb, and then the dratted thing pinged out of her hand and bounced on the floor with a metallic clink.
They both ducked to their knees on the floor to find it, her fingers brushing over the wooden planks in the darkness. His warm hand nudged and covered hers for a brief second and they both pulled back with the shock of the touch as if they’d been zapped with a brief burst of electricity.
‘Here, let me,’ snapped Conor, pulling out his phone and switching on the torch function.
The light cast dark shadows on the grim set of his face. He really didn’t want to be here and Hannah felt embarrassed by her continuing response to him. The camaraderie of the pub had made her forget that for her own self-preservation she was supposed to be keeping her distance from him.
It was a relief when the torch beam glinted on the silver key in one corner and she leaped forward to grab it, unfortunately at the very moment Conor did. They collided, shoulders crashing into each other. He grabbed her forearms to steady her, his phone falling from his grasp. Face to face, she could see his eyes glinting in the moonlight and feel his warm breath on her cheek. She could feel the magnetic pull between them, just like the first time she’d met him, sitting on his lap. The memory brought with it a sudden flush of heat and she moistened her lips. Conor watched the movement with dark, brooding eyes, giving nothing away. Her heart thudded in her chest as her eyes met his and she was convinced he must be able to hear it. His head dipped towards her and she held her breath, their eyes holding each other’s gaze.
She wasn’t sure who made the first move, what she did know beyond the thudding of her pulse in her ears, was that any second she might just burst into flames. The moment his lips touched hers, an explosion of lust and longing went off consuming her in desire. Without hesitation she wound an arm around his neck to pull him closer, as thankfully his hands dug into her waist anchoring her to him.
When his hand slid inside her blouse to graze her breast, she had to stifle a whimper of desperation. With his tongue duelling with hers, each of them fought to take control. Everything inside felt taut and tense. With the rising heat between her legs and the spiralling tension, she squirmed against his fingers teasing the soft skin around her nipple with dangerous and thorough intent. She hung on tight, feeling as if she could be swept away by a rip tide at any moment. There was no doubt, they had chemistry between them. Conor groaned, sending a thrill of power through her, as he adjusted the angle of his kiss, his lips. A moan escaped her. ‘Conor.’ Driving need made her want to writhe shamelessly against him. She was a complete hussy and she absolutely did not give a flying fig. Her body was making all the demands and her hormones had taken full control.
They got a nasty shock when Conor suddenly wrenched himself away, pulling back as if he’d come face to face with an anaconda or something equally nasty. The rejection was like a bucket of ice water thrown straight into her face.
‘Buggering hell,’ snapped Conor. ‘That’s not supposed to happen.’
‘Well, it did,’ she said, masking a touch of triumph. Despite the sudden withdrawal, Conor wasn’t as averse to her as he’d claimed.
He drew in a ragged breath and pushed his hand through his hair. ‘It can’t happen again. I told you. I don’t get involved with guests.’
‘I didn’t ask you to kiss me.’
‘You didn’t fight me off.’
She shrugged ‘Was I supposed to?’ Where it came from, she didn’t know, probably those pesky hormones again. ‘I quite liked it.’ Ireland Hannah was back. ‘We’re both adults.’
