Romance In Paradise. Sarah Mayberry
pleasant, fulfilling and, best of all, very, very discreet.
With her high profile she valued discretion. She just hadn’t realised that in that case discreet had been a synonym for married. She’d been surprised and shocked when—at the last minute, admittedly—she’d decided to attend a cocktail party she’d said she wouldn’t be at. He’d been there with his very beautiful, very thin Venezuelan wife and they’d both known that her tipping a glass of red wine into his lap, accidentally on purpose, had been a poor substitute for her slapping him into next year.
Morgan placed her thumb on one eye and her index finger on the other and pushed.
She had kissed Noah Fraser. Again.
Actually, kissed was totally the wrong word... She’d inhaled him, Frenched him...devoured him. She could still feel his long fingers searing through her pants, the rasp of his two-day beard, the silkiness of his hair as she pulled it through her fingers.
He kissed liked a dream, like a man should kiss: with authority, skill, strength and tenderness. If he made love like he kissed... Morgan whimpered as she felt the pool of heat and lust drop to her womb. She was minutes off an orgasm and that was from just the memories of his kiss!
What if he touched her breasts, slid his fingers...? She didn’t know if she was strong enough to survive the experience.
It took her a moment to realise that someone was pounding on her door and she wrinkled her nose. James frequently came by when he was in town and hung out, mostly to avoid their mother nagging him into attending an event. James was as allergic to the social swirl as she was... Was she a bad sister if she pretended not to be here?
She didn’t want to talk to anybody. She just wanted to relive Noah’s lips on hers, his scent in her nose, the hard muscles she’d felt in his shoulders.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bats...
‘Who is it?’ she demanded in a croaky voice as she pushed herself to her feet.
‘Noah.’
The only person she wanted to see and the last person she’d expected. Morgan yanked the door open and there he stood, jacket and tieless, his fist about to connect with the door again.
Morgan put out one finger and pushed his clenched fist down. ‘You pounded?’
Noah placed his hands on her hips and without a word pushed her backwards and kicked the door shut behind him.
‘Oh, well, just come on in,’ Morgan said, trying for sarcastic and hitting breathless.
Noah dropped his hands from her hips and slapped them on his. ‘I’ve been thinking...’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Morgan asked sweetly.
He ignored her. ‘On a scale of one to ten, what are the chances of you being in charge of this ball?’
‘About...hmm...minus one thousand and fifty-two.’
‘Thank God.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t sleep with my clients. Or my colleagues. Ever.’
‘You nearly beat down my door to tell me that?’
‘Try and keep up, Moreau. I don’t sleep with clients.’
Morgan, starting to catch a clue, felt her heart-rate accelerate. ‘And since I’m not going to be organising the ball I won’t be your client,’ she said slowly as she wrapped her head around the implications of those words.
‘There you go.’ Noah nodded ‘I walked away years ago...’
‘I know. I was there.’
That was a conversation for another day, and right now she didn’t give a foo-foo. She wanted to know if he was here for the same reason she wanted him here. So that they could take that hot kiss they’d shared in the lift to its logical conclusion. And if he was toying with her again she’d have MI Security toss his gorgeous body off the roof.
Noah’s eyes glinted blue fire. ‘I don’t want to spend the next eight years wondering...’
Morgan forced the lust away in order to think. It was hard, but she had to do it. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow to go back to London?’
‘More than likely. There’s nothing more I need to do here workwise...at this time.’
‘So you are here for one night...one incredible, exceptional, crazy night.’ she said, enunciating each word. ‘Are we on the same page, here?’
Noah pushed a hand through his messy hair. She could tell it wasn’t the first time he’d done that this evening. ‘Yeah. Deal?’
Phew! She was going to get lucky! All her little cell protestors threw down their placards, lay down and assumed the ‘do me’ position. Morgan considered doing the same.
‘What do you say, Morgan?’
Yes! Stop talking and take me now, yes! ‘Okay, yes, that’s a deal.’ Morgan started to lift her shirt. She wanted to get naked—now.
‘Stop. Don’t,’ Noah said, his voice low and urgent.
Morgan looked at him, fear and fury flashing in her eyes.
Noah took two steps to reach her and clasped her face in his hands. ‘Relax, Morgan, I just want to undress you myself. Inch by gorgeous inch.’
‘Oh.’ Morgan’s hands fell to her sides. ‘Okay.’ She tipped her head back and up, so that she could look into his eyes. ‘You think I’m gorgeous?’
‘Very—and stop fishing for compliments, Duchess. Try kissing me instead.’
The warmth in his eyes was at odds with his teasing words and Morgan felt her lips tip up in response.
Noah dropped a kiss on her nose before swooping down and covering her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against hers, long and smooth. ‘You sure you want to do this, Morgan?’ he muttered as his hand palmed her butt.
‘Still sure.’ Morgan angled her head away so that he could taste her neck, that sensitive spot just under her ear. His broad hand covered her breast and shivers skittered over her skin. Her fingers went to his shirt buttons and soon her hands were on warm male flesh, hot muscle and sexy skin. Her fingers danced over a very impressive six-pack and over the V of hip muscle that descended into his pants.
Noah groaned in the back of his throat as he slowly pulled her T-shirt up her torso, his eyes darkening at the white scraps of lace that covered her full breasts. He pulled her shirt up and over her head and dropped it to the floor, before running a finger along the edge of the lace. ‘Pretty.’
Morgan sucked in her breath as his finger touched her hard nipple.
He hooked his hand under the lace and revealed her breast to his sizzling gaze. ‘Very pretty indeed.’
His hot mouth covered her as he flipped open her bra and pulled it down her arms. Groaning, he banded his arms around her and, kissing her mouth, walked her backwards to the plump couch, lowering her to the striped fabric when the seat hit the back of her knees. Noah knelt down in front of her and picked up her booted foot, glowering at the knee-high laced boots.
Noah cursed. ‘This is going to take far too long.’
‘Not so much.’ Morgan grinned, reached around to the back of her calf and pulled a zip down the boots. ‘Hidden zip.’
‘Brilliant.’ Noah pulled her boots off impatiently, yanked her pants down her legs, and Morgan giggled when he tossed them over his shoulder. He sat back on his haunches, still dressed only in his suit pants, and looked at her, naked but for a little scrap of lace at the juncture of her thighs. She’d thought she would feel self-conscious, shy, uncomfortable, but how could she feel anything other than sexy and powerful when such a hard-bodied, lusciously masculine man looked