The Good, the Bad and the Wild

Dropping her bag on the kitchen counter, she spotted her mobile in the side pocket, its message light flashing.

She read the text from Tess. ‘Where r u???’

She paused with her fingers over the key pad. What should she say? How did she explain where she was and what she was planning to do? She took in a shuddering breath.

Keep it brief. Keep it simple. And don’t go into too much detail or you might chicken out.

She keyed in: ‘I’m with Nick.’

The mobile buzzed almost instantly with Tess’s reply. ‘OMG! U wild woman.’

A smile quirked on Eva’s lips, excitement dispelling the last of her terror. Finally, dull, swotty Eva Redmond was having a conversation like the ones she’d once overheard in the changing room before PE class or in the common room at university. The conversations she’d listened to with avid interest and secretly envied, but had never once been a part of. Because the girls she’d eavesdropped on—the pretty, confident girls who had boyfriends and a social life and didn’t stress about their exams or their homework nearly as much as they did about their next date—those girls had never talked to Eva. In fact they had probably never even known she existed.

Eva tapped out: ‘Don’t w8 up,’ the last of her doubts lifting off her shoulders. Who knew it would feel so liberating not to be invisible any more?

Tess’s reply flashed back. ‘LOL. Go 4 it!’

She shoved the phone back into the bag, next to the file folder that contained her notes on the D’Alegria case. A wayward grin spread across her face. There would be time enough for work tomorrow. Tonight, Eva Redmond was finally going to get the chance to play.

She peeled off her wet tights and buried the sodden mass in the pocket of the leather jacket. Maybe she didn’t look her best, but she planned to look as presentable as possible. Clammy water dripped down under the collar as she heard the soft pad of footsteps in the hall.

Appearing out of the shadows, Nick walked towards her with predatory grace, a towel draped around his neck and his feet now as bare as his chest. The exhilaration caused by her girly text conversation peaked and Eva’s teeth chattered.

Without a word, Nick took the tab of the jacket zip between his fingers. The rasp of the tiny metal teeth releasing cut through the soft patter of the slowing rain. He pushed the jacket off her shoulders, tugged it down her arms and dumped it on the sofa. Carefully locating the last of the pins in her hair, he pulled each of them out then ran his fingers through the wet curls, gently parting the tangles. The rain glistened in his damp hair as he drew the towel from around his neck, then gathered the ends of her hair and rubbed.

Eva stood trembling under his ministrations, her heartbeat rioting. A muscle in his jaw flexed while he concentrated on the task. The bodice of the dress felt like a corset closing off her air supply. Her heavy breasts swelled against the constriction as the ends of the towel fluttered over her cleavage.

Finally satisfied, he looped the towel round her neck. Holding the ends, he tugged her up onto her tiptoes. She opened her mouth on a little gasp and his tongue plundered as she placed her hands on his stomach to steady herself. The hot smooth skin tensed under her palms and her fingers touched the rough edges of the scar. As he lifted his head her breathing became so jagged she felt as if she were about to faint.

He let go of the towel, and she dropped back onto her heels. His palms cradled her elbows, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin on the inside as his lips lifted on one side in a lopsided smile. ‘I’ll have to take the dress off, to dry you properly.’

The rough murmur seemed to prickle over her skin, scraping over each of the places that throbbed with need. She looked back at him, and felt the spark of impulse, the sizzle of desire and anticipation. All her life she must have had this wildness lurking inside but it had taken a man like Nick Delisantro to locate it and bring it galloping to the surface.

‘I’d like that,’ she heard herself murmur, her voice low and sultry and nothing like her own.

His lips quirked as he placed his hands firmly on her waist. ‘You would, huh?’

She nodded.

He didn’t reply, but anchored his hand on her hip and turned her to face the terrace doors. Lifting the hair draped over her shoulder, he trailed tiny kisses down her neck, sucking and nibbling and sending her senses into overdrive. The reflection of them, backlit by the kitchen light, was so erotic her knees trembled. He stood behind her, his head dark against the stark white skin of her collarbone. The zip at the back of the dress released, freeing her breasts from the too-small bodice as firm fingers eased the straps of the dress down. His eyes met hers in the rain-splattered glass as he undid the hook on her bra with a deafening click. He peeled the purple lace off leaving her naked to the waist.

His teeth fastened on the cord in her neck, feasting on the sensitive spot as his fingers traced the outline of her areolas. She raised limp arms, fastened them around his neck and arched into his hands, desperate to feel more, to have it all. She sobbed, her breath trapped in her lungs as hot callused palms cupped her breasts and caressed.

She shuddered, the pleasure so intense her knees buckled.

He swore, the harsh expletive making her eyes fly open. Grasping her waist, he spun her round to face him, then cradled her breast, and fastened his lips on the aching peak.

She held his head, the hair damp against her palms as he teased the swollen tip with his tongue, his teeth. Her thighs quivered and she moaned, scolding heat scorching down her torso to the bundle of nerves at her centre.

He raised his head, ending the devastating torment, and then shoved the dress past her hips. It settled around her ankles, leaving only the tiny swatch of lace covering her sex. She’d never felt more vulnerable, more exposed in her life, but as she saw the glazed desire in his eyes power surged.

‘Put your hands round my neck,’ he demanded. She obeyed, mesmerised by the hard glint of passion darkening the golden brown as he swept her up in his arms. Kicking the heavy velvet out of his way, he strode across the front room, then down the narrow corridor to the back of the apartment. Shoving open a door, he walked into a large room, its hexagonal shape marking it out as the pergola she’d admired from below.

Her breasts ached, and every inch of her skin tingled as he laid her on the large bateau bed that dominated the room. Moonlight streamed through the window, highlighting the harsh beauty of his torso. She panted, trying to calm her breathing, wipe the fog of arousal from her mind as he grabbed a foil packet out of the bedside table and flung it onto the coverlet. She clasped her arms across her swollen breasts, the heady feel of his teeth, his tongue still a visceral memory as he unsnapped his jeans, ripped open the button fly and kicked off the wet denim and cotton boxers beneath.

Her heart rammed into her throat as she got her first sight of the column of erect flesh that thrust out from the nest of hair at his groin. A shocked gasp escaped her lips as she gauged the impressive length and thickness.

Her mind engaged, and she felt a flutter of panic as the blaze of lust flooded between her thighs. She knew all about the mechanics of sex, had spent years day-dreaming about this moment. But she’d never seen a naked man in the flesh before. Let alone a naked man who was fully aroused. And she hadn’t day-dreamed about anything quite that… She took a steadying breath, desire and panic twisting together in the pit of her stomach. Anything quite that enormous.

He grasped the foil packet off the bed, rolled on the latex sheath with ease and efficiency. She glanced up as he settled onto the bed beside her, dragged her easily into his arms, his erection now butting her thigh.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he said, sounding puzzled and amused as he took her wrists, to lift her clasped arms away from her breasts. ‘Don’t get shy on me, now.’

She struggled to breathe, knowing she had to relax, or this would be a thousand times more uncomfortable. Should she tell him? That this was her first time? But then he dipped his head, captured one aching peak between his teeth, and she raised off the bed, pushing her body instinctively into the exquisite torture.

Don’t think. Just feel. And don’t tell him, or he may stop.

As her fingers fisted on the sheet, her body bowed by the renewed onslaught of sensation, she knew that, however painful the initial penetration, she didn’t want him to stop.

He explored her body with his tongue, his teeth, his lips. Suckling hard then drawing back, transferring from one breast to the other. His hand flattened against her belly. She bucked, shocked by the intensity of sensation rocketing up from her core as he cupped her, then discovered the slick burning nub. He circled and retreated, teasing her with fleeting caresses that took her to the brink but were never enough. She clung to his shoulders, sobbed out incoherent pleas for him to do more.

He gave a rough laugh. Then he touched, right at the heart of her. She opened her thighs, bumping against the knowing brush of his thumb, the nerves exploding.

She cried out, the orgasm cascading through her in strong, sure, wonderful waves.

Quivering, shaking, she kissed his cheek, laughed with delight, the rush of achievement, of abandon sensational as she floated in afterglow.

‘Thank you. Thank you,’ she murmured, tears of emotion, of joy sliding down her cheeks.

The sense of validation was triumphal. Sex was more wonderful, more fulfilling than her wildest fantasises, all she’d had to do was wait—for the right man to unlock the secret passion inside her.

‘You’re welcome.’ He chuckled, sounding surprised and amused. His brows drew together as he stared down at her in the moonlight. He touched his thumb to her cheek, lifted a drop. ‘That was quite a show. Do you always cry when you come?’

The inquisitive, vaguely mocking tone brought her sharply back to reality, the hazy joy clearing to be replaced with embarrassment. Appalled at how exposed she felt—and at how much she’d let him see.

This means nothing to him.

‘Not always,’ she lied. She choked out what she hoped was a frivolous laugh. ‘You’re good at that.’

He grinned, the flash of pride almost boyish. ‘Only good, huh?’ he said, clasping her hips in large hands and positioning her beneath him. ‘Let’s see if I can do better.’

She had a moment to tense, prepare for the devastating entry and then he plunged hard.

She cried out, the pain raw and shocking, as his girth thrust through the barrier of flesh.

‘What the hell?’ He reared back, stopped dead, the penetration so deep she could feel every inch. ‘Are you okay?’

She nodded, robbed of speech, the pain still raw, still brutal. ‘Don’t stop,’ she said, through gritted teeth, determined to bear it.