“Yeah? And did you see how he looked at Ashley? Like he was seeing someone he didn’t recognize. His loss.”
“It is.” A laugh bubbled out of her.
“What’s funny?”
“You, me, this situation.” She
shook her head. “You sweet-talk my mum, give my youngest niece an evening to remember, make my eldest sister feel like a twenty-year-old again.” Her breath floated out in a soft exhale. “You’re making it very hard for me to ignore you.”
He encircled her waist with his arm and guided her to a quiet, dark corner of the room behind a pillar, shifting them so his body shielded her from prying eyes. Then he placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Feel how hard that’s beating?” She nodded, eyes on him, watchful. “Not being able to ignore me is a step in the right direction,” he told her quietly. “But I want your heart beating for me like mine is for you. I want you looking forward to spending whatever time I can get off next week with me. I want you thinking of me at night, wishing I were with you. Picturing me when you close your eyes, feeling my hands on your body, my mouth skimming across your skin. Aching for me as much as I fucking ache for you.”
Probably he was being too open, definitely he shouldn’t be saying this here in the hotel, where staff could be watching, but time wasn’t on his side. This was no longer about sex, not for him. It was about a week where he could pretend to be someone different. A guy a classy woman like Olivia didn’t mind being seen with. A week he could look back on when he was struggling to be the dad Ellie deserved and remind himself he was no longer a teenage fuckup.
She worried at her bottom lip. “I did think of you last night.”
“Yeah?” His gaze tracked that plump lip and he swallowed, hard, before lifting his eyes to hers. “What was I doing?”
She huffed out a breath. “Oh, no, we’re not having one of those conversations. Especially not at my niece’s wedding.”
Amusement jostled with arousal and he planted his hand on the wall above her head, angling his body closer so it brushed against hers, sending the sexual tension meter soaring. “What sort of conversation?” he asked roughly.
“The one where you try and get me to talk dirty.” The pulse in her neck fluttered. “News flash, I’m far more comfortable having sex than talking about it.”
He couldn’t stop the grin. “So you admit you were thinking about having sex with me?”
Her gaze darted around the room before finally connecting with his. “I’ll admit to thinking about you and what we did on the rocks.” He watched her throat move as she swallowed. “The way you made me feel.”
She was the sort of woman a guy sent roses to,seduced. Kissed under the stars, then made love to on a four-poster. Yet he’d dry-humped her behind the lighthouse. “And how was that?” he asked gruffly, heart in his mouth.
“Wanted. Desired.” Her tongue licked at her bottom lip in a move he knew was totally unconscious. “Attractive.”
Warmth pumped through him, heating his blood, filling his chest. Arousal, relief... and, bugger it, pride too. Pride that he’d made this woman see herself for what she was. “You should nevernotfeel attractive, wanted, desired.” He ran his hands up her arms, palms gliding over soft skin, and felt her shiver. “Anyone who’s made you feel less than that didn’t deserve to share the same air as you.”
“God, Connor.” Her lids lowered. When she opened her eyes again, confusion swirled in their green-brown depths. “I’m not a nice woman. I’ve hurt men, decent men who were kind to me, men whose only fault was they wanted more from me, more attention, more time, than I was prepared to give.”
“You’re worried you’ll hurt me.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “It’s been an embarrassingly long time since I last had sex, but our... encounter yesterday reminded me how good it could be. I think I might want that, sex with a guy I find attractive.” She gave him a level look. “But that’s all I’d want.”
“What if I said I don’t care? I’m not expecting anything to carry on when we get home.” As if it could. Home was Ellie. “I just want a week with you. Something I can look back on and smile about when I’m having a shit day.” He leaned closer, hands sliding round to settle low on her back. “Memories to replay when I’m alone in bed.”
He heard the hitch of her breath, felt her tremble. “If I were the sort of woman who had flings,” she whispered, “I’d want one with you.”
“But flings are spontaneous,” he stated. “And you’re still working out the pros and cons.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Yes.”
“You’re on holiday, Livvy. It’s a chance to let go, live for the moment. Let someone else take control for a while.” He pressed a brief but firm kiss to her mouth. “Tomorrow night, when your family have gone home, we’ll go through those cons and cross them out, one by one.”
Her husky laughter sent prickles of arousal skating across his skin. “I’m not that easy to convince.”
He leaned in closer, brushed her ear with his lips. “And I’m not that easy to dismiss.”
Chapter 11
She was ready. Olivia opened the door of her hotel room, halted, swore under her breath, then let it close again and walked up to the full-length mirror she’d just finished looking in. Cream cropped trousers, her favorite black top. It was fine. She lookedfine.
This indecision wasn’t her. She was the kind of person who decided what to wear, gave her eyelashes a cursory flick of mascara—mousy hair she could put up with, mousy lashes she couldn’t—maybe added some lip gloss if her lips were dry, then walked the hell out the door. She didn’t linger in front of a mirror wondering if she looked okay. She definitely didn’t then return to that mirror for a second study. She was averagely attractive, and that had always been perfectly satisfactory.
