More Than One Night

“So how are you finding civilian life?”

“Day one is shaping up okay so far.”

“Are you telling me this is your first day of freedom?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, well, that definitely calls for a celebration.”

“You’re already celebrating.”

“True. Maybe we should add our celebrations together. See if the sum isn’t greater than its parts.”

Her gaze held his. “Maybe we should.”

He smiled, and her mouth curved in response. Arousal and curiosity and the need to conquer buzzed through his veins, a heady cocktail of potential.

He reached for his beer and raised his glass in a casual toast. “To celebrations.”

“To celebrations,” she echoed.

IT WAS TWO IN THE MORNING when Charlie dragged her gaze from Rhys’s face and registered that Gina was long past the wilting stage and close to dropping off to sleep.

“We should probably think about heading home,” she said regretfully.

Rhys’s mouth quirked as he took in the way Gina’s head was propped on her hand and her eyes closed. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

Disappointment washed through her at his easy acquiescence. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, but she didn’t want this night to end. She wanted to keep talking to Rhys, wanted to keep listening to his deep, mellow voice, wanted to have the chance to touch the hard, hot body that had been so close to hers, driving her more than a little crazy.

But apparently the feeling was far from mutual. So much for her sense of herself being outdated.

He was always out of your league and you know it.

True, but it had been fun while it lasted. More fun, more exciting, than anything she’d experienced in a long time.

“I’ll walk you down,” Rhys said.

“Sure.” She gave Gina’s knee a little shake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go home.”

Gina started. “What?”

Charlie laughed. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

She stood and waited for Gina to gather her things together, then the three of them navigated the thinning crowd to the elevators. Charlie was very aware of Rhys standing by her side as the car dropped smoothly toward the ground. She shot him a quick glance. He was staring straight ahead, an unreadable expression on his face.

She gave a silent sigh as she registered for the millionth time how handsome he was. Not in a perfect, pretty-boy way, but in a real, rugged, masculine way. He had a strong jaw and a straight nose with a bump near the bridge. His lips were chiseled yet still soft looking. His dark hair and eyes made her wonder if he had Greek or Italian heritage. Then there was his body…

As though he felt her regard, he glanced her way. She felt herself blush.

Busted. Good one, Long. Too subtle.

“Is your background Italian?” she blurted, as though asking about his forebears would excuse the fact that she’d been ogling him.

“There’s some Spanish blood in there somewhere, I think. But my dad keeps telling me we’re Black Irish. Whatever that means.”

“Huh.”

The doors opened and they entered the echoey foyer of Customs House. It was all but deserted at this time of night and even the bar at ground level had whittled its patrons down to hard-core players.

The night air was cool on her bare shoulders as they exited to the street. Customs House was situated smack-dab in the middle of Circular Quay, usually a busy hub for buses, trains and ferries, but at this time of night the last ferries had well and truly gone and bus service was reduced to bare bones. The taxi stand was located at the end of the street. A handful of cabs idled, waiting for passengers.

“It’s like a ghost town,” Charlie said as they made their way across the cobblestones toward the taxis.

“I’m sure there are still plenty of idiots raising hell in Kings Cross,” Rhys said, referring to a part of the city that was infamous for its nightlife and girlie bars.

She stumbled on an uneven cobble and Rhys grabbed her shoulder to steady her.

“Thanks,” she said ruefully. “Believe it or not, I have worn high heels before tonight.”

“You’re freezing,” he said, his hand tightening on her shoulder.

“No, I’m fine.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Rhys’s arm wrapped around her shoulder. Heat unfurled in her belly at the feel of his strong arm around her body.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes.” She risked a glance toward his face. He was watching her closely. Almost as though he was trying to get a read on her.

Gina had walked ahead of them and was talking to the first driver through the open passenger window.

“He’ll take us,” she called.

Charlie’s hip bumped against Rhys’s as they walked the last few feet. Gina slid into the backseat, leaving the door open. Charlie turned to face Rhys, hoping that the regret she felt didn’t show in her face.

“I had a good night.” She held her breath, waiting for him to ask for her phone number or give some indication that his interest in her extended beyond casual flirtation.

“I had a great night,” he said. Then he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

She forced a smile. “Well—”

He leaned closer and she swallowed the rest of her words as he pressed a kiss to her lips. He lifted his head slightly and looked into her eyes. She stared back at him, stunned, her heart thudding against her breastbone. He palmed the nape of her neck, and then he was kissing her again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth this time, turning her legs to jelly.

She pressed her body against his, her skin on fire, desire beating a tattoo through her veins. His tongue stroked hers gently, provocatively, and she reached out and gripped his shoulders with both hands.

After a long, long moment he drew back. “Come home with me?” he asked very quietly, his voice a low husk.

Dear God, I thought you’d never ask.

“Yes.”