Lovers' Dance Read online

  She ran her tongue over his compressed lips and a soft moan began in the back of his throat. Then he was kissing her back with unrestrained passion as his hands encircled her tiny waist, sliding over her arse. And he wanted more. Now it was him taking over the kiss, his tongue pushing insistently against hers as her hands uncurled from their tight grip on his sweater to splay over his chest. Matt groaned at the feel of her hands on him. But he wanted more than that little touch. He could feel her sudden hesitation at the intensity of his kiss and that helped pull him back from the urge to take her right there in the hallway. He pushed her away.

  “Bollocks,” he rasped, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I did not mean to do that. It—you—” For the first time in his adult life, Matt was incapable of constructing a coherent sentence.

  <><><>

  My mouth was tingling from Matt’s kiss. Oh my freaking word. He could kiss. I’d never been kissed like that. Ever. My heart was going like a jackhammer in my chest. My blood pounded through my veins. I could feel my nipples tightening from looking at his lips. He had sexy lips. Matt’s gaze was flickering between my lips and my obviously hard nipples. His eyes darkened as his tongue swept over his lower lip. Sensuous.

  What the hell was I doing? I didn’t care. I wanted him to kiss me like that again. A crazy ache was building inside me. Crazy enough to make me move towards him while he stood as still as a statue and watched me from stormy eyes.

  “Madi,” he said, desperate and hoarse. “This is wrong and we’re not doing it. I understand you’re feeling a misguided sort of gratitude towards me for—”

  “It’s not misguided,” I interrupted. I was close enough to touch him. So I did. I ran my hand over his chest, and his eyelids slipped closed for a second before they popped open and he grabbed my hand.

  “It is. Listen to me.” He sounded angry, but his grip on my hand had relaxed into a sort of slow caress. Stroking lightly over my wrist. “You’re not thinking straight and I know you’re still in shock over what happened. You don’t know what you’re doing—”

  “Don’t you want me?” I asked. The realization that I was throwing myself at a white man, who most likely had a girlfriend and didn’t mix with people a darker shade than Caucasian tan, made my stomach drop to the floor. I yanked my hand away mortified at my behaviour.

  Matt exhaled loudly, which sounded like exasperation to my ears, and his gaze fell on me. “Of course, I want you, poppet. I want you so much right now my balls are ready to burst. But you don’t know me and your reaction is only in response to what those sods did to you. You had a major fright tonight and you wanting to sleep with me is simply an illogical aftereffect of the emotional roller coaster you’ve been on. Fuck’s sake. I’m a decade older than you.”

  “You swear in the poshest British voice I’ve ever heard,” I replied. He had nice ears. Nice ears were a plus. And nice hands, strong hands that felt good on my hips. That ache was coming back, spreading from the core of me until I felt my whole body aching, and not from the battering I had taken earlier.

  “Madison DuMont,” Matt said sternly, apparently remembering my name from my driving license. “I’m taking you to the hospital right this minute. Put your shoes on and get your bag.”

  He moved to brush past me and I grabbed his arm. Nice and firm, just the right amount of muscle. Everything about him was nice. He’d been my knight tonight. I knew this wasn’t me, that he was absolutely correct in the fact my behaviour was stemming from what had happened, but damn if I cared. I braced myself on that strong arm of his and rose onto my tippy toes to press a kiss on his cheek. Matt twisted his head, catching my mouth with his and taking my breath away with the most passionate kiss I’d ever been the recipient of. He pulled me into his arms, moulding me into the lines of his body when he hoisted me up easily. He broke away for a second, face flushed and breathing raggedly. “I’m going to burn in hell for this.” Then he was kissing me and the towel was falling from around my hair and he was tangling his hands in my damp curls.

  “Soft,” he murmured against my lips. “Everything about you is soft.”

  How we ended up in his bedroom I had no idea. All I knew was he was the owner of the hottest lips known to man. Lips that were trailing over my neck as he deftly undid his tie around my waist. Lips that started kissing over my collar bone as his fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Matt rose to tug his sweater over his head and tossed it away. His chest was impressive, a light dusting of hair that drew the eye. And once you noticed his chest, you couldn’t not notice his abs. He obviously worked out. Another dark line of hair that stopped at the top of his pants. God. I was really doing this. He was on his side, like me, and his hand curled around the open edge of his shirt that I wore.

  “Can we turn off the lights?” I asked, between ragged puffs of breaths.

  Matt paused in his inexorably slow movement of inching the shirt over my shoulder. “Why? I want to see you, all of you.” His fingers slipped under the shirt, tracing the curve of my shoulder and his voice got deep and husky. “I’ll kiss you all better, poppet.”

  I couldn’t think straight. The heat in his gaze was making my brain stutter, but the lights.

  “I’m—uh—,” I started in a small voice, embarrassed as hell. “I don’t have big boobs,” I finished in a high-pitched squeak.

  Matt leaned back with a frown edging along his lips, then jerked the shirt right down my shoulder. I shrieked and tried to cover myself, but he was quick and captured my free hand. That tongue of his made an appearance at the corner of his mouth and he smiled at me. Like a predator stalking its prey. I shivered, part fear, part guilty anticipation. What the hell was I doing?

  “Looks perfectly fine to me, poppet,” he drawled, before wresting the shirt off me completely and baring my upper body to his hungry appraisal. “Perfectly fine and I’m going to hell on the fast train.”

  He stopped talking. So did I as he touched me lightly, running his fingertips down from my collarbone and over—in my opinion—my small breast. He was fixated on his hand slowly fondling my flesh, stroking his thumb over my nipple until it peaked into hardness. Then he cupped me in his hand and squeezed. A whimper of pleasure escaped my lips. Matt dragged his hand down my stomach, intently watching its movement over my skin, before returning it to my aching breast. I think he was getting off on the contrast of our skin tone. Hell, it was hot watching him touch me. Matt scooted down a bit and bent his head to begin kissing the top of my chest, progressively going lower until I felt his moist tongue circling my nipple. I let out another embarrassing whimper of pleasure and he pressed me flat into the mattress, rising over me to unleash a feverish sucking onslaught on my breasts. I was gasping out loud, fingers curled tightly in his soft hair as he thoroughly ravished my boobs before starting to kiss his way over my stomach. He was gentle, probably remembering my earlier beating. I squirmed under his mouth, wanting to make him go faster while wanting this feeling to never end.

  “Matt,” I gasped when his fingers started tugging at the shorts I’d borrowed from his closet.

  “What is it?” he asked huskily, leaning down to swirl his tongue in my belly button. Oh, hell. That was nice.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, face warming with not just lust but embarrassment. “Tell me what to do.”

  Matt raised his head to smile at me. “Don’t worry, Madi. I’ll do everything.”

  He undid the little knot I’d made to keep the shorts up and tugged them off in one clean swoop. Oh, my gosh. Matt went to his knees and stared at me, all of me. I instinctively tried to cover my hairless lady bits. He grabbed my hand and I tried with my other one, but he said in a strained voice, “Don’t. Don’t hide from me. I want to see every inch of you.”

  He released my hand and I let them both fall to the side, eyes squeezed shut. I was laying naked in the bed of a man, whose last name I didn’t know. Was this the twilight zone? An alternate reality? With someone who was me but not
really me?

  “Open your eyes, poppet,” he commanded in a low voice. I cracked one eye open, then the other. He bit his lower lip, his gaze taking in all my naked splendour before he looked me directly in the eyes and said, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Madison DuMont. And I’m going to make you orgasm until you can’t bear it.”

  I gulped loudly. Yes, I was a virgin, but I masturbated. Everyone did, it was normal. Come on, I was twenty-six years old, of course I masturbated. I’d climaxed at my own hands many times before. So why did I suddenly feel as if Matt was going to do something I’d never heard of? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  <><><>

  Matt saw the flash of anxiety on her face and he reminded himself this sensual, dark beauty had never been with a man before. He hadn’t believed her at first, but he was an experienced lover and he knew a novice when he saw one. Or touched one. The way she trembled under his touch, the uncertainty in her movements. He believed her. A rush of guilt bombarded him. Was he actually doing this? About to deflower the woman he’d saved from probable rape at the hands of those arseholes? A black woman ten years younger than him? His cock screamed yes, while his conscience levied a heavy dose of reproach at him. Matt had never cared about the aftermaths of his sexual prowess. As long as both parties got off as many times as possible, it was fine. But Madi wasn’t like his usual women, she was a fucking virgin. How in the hell had she managed to remain so in this day and age? With a body as delectable as hers…it seemed impossible. Matt’s eyes travelled down her body. He’d said she was soft—she was—but she was also firm in all the right places. Looking at her naked body, he could see she was a dancer.

  “Okay, Matt,” she whispered, brown eyes staring up at him with tentative trust. He felt like a heel, but his cock was shouting louder than his conscience. He shoved his misgivings aside to drown in the raging lust clamouring to be let out his body. He wanted to taste her so badly. The sight of his pale hands on her silky dark skin was magic. He liked the contrast of their skin tones, he liked it a lot. Matt slid down and positioned himself between her slender legs, then eased them apart with his hands while she watched him from wide eyes and stiffened up like a board.

  “Relax, poppet.” He moaned. “I promise this will feel nice.” He no longer cared that he used that term of endearment. It didn’t matter that they barely knew each other. Tonight, she was his, and he would make her forget about what had almost happened. He would make her forget everything but him.

  He had planned to start slow, to ease her into the feel of his mouth and tongue on her most intimate flesh. He had planned to start kissing up her legs, driving her crazy with want until all she wanted was release, but when she opened up for him and the intoxicating scent of her desire wafted over him, that plan went out the window. Matt slid his arms under her shaking legs, eyes drawn to her glistening flesh, moisture seeping out of her body as a result of his touch…Christ, she was wet for him and it drove him crazy with lust.

  He licked her, one long swipe of tongue, and savoured the taste of her. He wanted more and he was going to get it. Matt began to move his lips and tongue over her, watching her arch off the bed with a breathless groan that was becoming more and more desperate as he gripped her thighs tightly and ran his tongue over and around that nub of nerves between her legs. He delved his tongue deep inside and she jerked, frantically grabbing at the sheets and writhing beneath him. He kept up this sensual assault on her flesh until he could hear her gasping out over and over, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” That changed soon enough to “Don’t stop, don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—please. Don’t stop.”

  His cock was rigid; he watched her squirm with pleasure, knowing he was doing this to her. Fuck. He wanted nothing more than to plunge himself deep inside her but, first, he would show her how good oral sex could be. He would make her come, then do it again, maybe once more on top of that, and then he would make her orgasm from penetrative sex. Matt had a moment’s worry about the inevitable pain she would feel, but he would be as gentle as possible.

  His cock throbbed, crying out for release. He ignored his own body’s urgings. Tonight it wasn’t about him. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about his pleasure. His only concern was hers. She was making loud incoherent sounds that had him groaning in mutual pleasure. His fingers were digging into her thighs, his tongue searching for more of that honeyed ambrosia which he couldn’t get enough of. And, then, her whole body jerked continuously, uncontrollable spasms that had her screaming out his name before she went completely limp. Matt smiled against her quivering flesh and turned his head to press a moist kiss on her inner thigh. She didn’t move. He squinted up her amazing body. Her head was flung back, nestled between the haphazardly strewn pillows and her eyes were shut.

  “Madi?” he called teasingly. He straightened up and her legs flopped to the sides. Alarm thundered through him as he crawled up her body and grabbed her face. “Madi? Jesus Christ. Wake up!” He shook her hard and got no response. Matt scrambled halfway across the huge bed, mind racing with terrible thoughts. He should’ve taken her to the goddamned hospital. The media would crucify him if this ever got out. Forget the media. She was unconscious in his bloody bed. He had to get help. He grabbed the portable phone on the bedside table, beginning to punch out 999 when he heard it: that soft, weird, little snort she made when sleeping. She’d done it for most of their car journey here. He assumed it was her version of snoring.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered as he put the phone back and twisted over to observe her. She was fast asleep, passed out from her orgasm. Matt felt a shaky smile curl the corner of his lips, relief quickly taking the place of the intense worry he’d been experiencing. She was sleeping, it was fine. His erection had withered away at the first signs that something had been wrong. Now he knew she was only sleeping, the sight of her sprawled wantonly over his bed had his blood stirring hotly in his veins. He let out a frustrated groan and caught a glimpse of his alarm clock. Three thirty.

  There were meetings scheduled from eight that he couldn’t cancel. He needed to sleep if he hoped to be up at five thirty. Matt eased off the bed and made his way out the room. Downstairs he locked up, turned the lights off, then returned to his bed and the snoring woman in it. He hesitated when it came to turning off his bedroom lights. He wanted to watch her, didn’t know why he did and, frankly, at this second, he didn’t care. The overhead lights went off but the bedside lamps stayed on.

  Matt hovered between sleep, knowing he was nothing like what a true hero should be, but feeling like one anyway. He’d beaten those bastards off and brought her somewhere safe. That unsettling protective urge he’d felt since meeting her reared up. She turned in her sleep, snuggling closer to him and he pulled her into his arms. God, she was a tiny little thing in comparison to his build.

  Tomorrow he would leave work as early as possible. She would probably sleep most of the day anyway. He would come home early and properly introduce himself to her. Then he would bring her back in here and finished what they started. Matt fell asleep with the biggest smile.

  TWO

  I WOKE UP with the worst headache and my body crying out in pain, disoriented and not sure what had happened last. Then, I remembered.

  “Oh, shit.” I jumped up, regretted it the instant I did and sank back onto the numerous pillows. I was alone in the bed, extremely thankful to be alone in the bed, and mortified over my behaviour last night. Where was he? The room was quiet. Oh shit, shit, shit. The last memory I had was of Matt going down on me and giving me the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. Had I freaking passed out? Oh, the shame. A knock sounded lightly on the door and I pulled the covers up to my neck. He knocked on his own bedroom door? Weirdo.

  “Come in,” I called.

  The door opened and a white-haired man popped around it with a covered tray. I screamed—he frowned—I screamed louder.

  “I have brought your breakfast, Ms DuMont,
” he managed to shout over my screams.

  I screamed again. Who was this old white dude with the tray who knew my name? What the fuck was going on in this place?

  “Ms DuMont! Ms DuMont, please stop screaming.”

  “Who are you? Where’s Matt?” I yelled, clutching the sheet to me and looking around for a weapon. The guy was old and he’d mentioned something about breakfast, I think, but he could be a ninja master or a British spy fully capable of killing me. And no one would question it. I could see the headlines now: Black female intruder killed during home invasion in upscale Kensington property. I’d be killed and the papers would paint me as the bad guy, and this man would get a pat on the back and say shit like, “I thought she had a gun” or “I was in fear for my life.” Shit like that happened all the time back home in the States.

  “Mr Bradley is at his office. He instructed me to ensure you ate. It is ten thirty in the morning, and you should be out of bed.”

  “Excuse me?” I did not like the undertone of censure in the old man’s voice. No, I didn’t like it one bit. “Who are you?”

  “My name is George and I work for Mr Bradley. He has instructed me—”

  “To make sure I eat. I heard you the first time.” I cut him off bad-temperedly. I was naked under satin sheets with this George in a stiff suit judging me silently. Bite me.

  “Well, I was not certain. You were screaming so loudly I’m surprised you could hear yourself.”

  There it was again: that censorious tone. I ignored it and asked, “Did you say ten thirty?”