Page 54 of Just Like in the Movies

‘Yes please,’ she said, before she could second-guess herself.

And then his lips were on hers. Hot, firm, ravenous and tasting of spiced rum.

Was Luke foxed?

The thought occurred to her, but she had no time to engage with it, before he was ravishing her mouth, his tongue licking across her lips to demand entry.

She opened for him, feeling more than a little drunk herself on the pheromones racing round her body.

She gripped his shirt, pressing against his muscular body, feeling the distinct shiver of response.

His fingers delved into her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck. His lips fastened on her pulse point, sucking, nipping, caressing, until her rapid pants echoed around the foyer.

She dragged in a shaky breath. Was this actually happening? And did it have any right to feel this astonishing?

He stopped suddenly, lifting his head, and met her gaze.

She waited, seeing the knowledge in his expression. Waited for him to tell her this wasn’t happening, that it was a mistake.

If he was drunk, she probably ought to call a halt to it herself.

But he didn’t look drunk. Despite the sweet aroma of the rum on his breath. He looked entirely in charge of his faculties, just more urgent, more passionate, more volatile than she’d ever seen him before.

So she waited, his harsh breathing matching her own. And worked out a convincing argument for why they had to take this to its logical conclusion. They could do this, even if it was just for one night, one quickie, one more kiss. It didn’t have to be a big deal, a lifelong commitment. She knew he was rich and successful and looked like a god …

Okay, maybe don’t say that.

Luke was touchy about his looks and he still thought she was a Falcone nut, even though she’d been a Luke nut exclusively for a week.

Perhaps she should beg. Mortification was a price she would happily pay if he’d let her jump him, just for tonight.

His hands dropped, and he stepped back. She braced herself, all of her arguments ganging up so fast she couldn’t quite sp

it them out.

But then he grasped her hand and leading her back to the door, leaned over to flick the switch.

The shutter roared down again.

Did this mean what she thought it did? Were Thunderbirds Go?

Anticipation and excitement and panic combined in the pit of her stomach to create a perfect storm of anxiety and need.

The shutter hit the ground and rattled, shocking her out of her desperate conversation with herself. Luke pressed the button to lock it then marched across the foyer towards the door to her flat, her hand still grasped tightly in his. As if he would never let it go.

They climbed the stairs in silence.

The flat was dark, but he didn’t stop to turn on any lights, simply headed down the corridor, past her kitchen, the bathroom, the boiler cupboard, to the bedroom at the back.

She had a momentary panic the room might be a tip. But when he opened the door wide, the light from the street outside illuminated the waterfall of throw cushions, and the fairy lights she must have left on when she’d come up to have her dinner during the evening show. The room looked magical, especially when he swung her round and grasped her hips.

She could feel the thick erection she’d felt once before. He glanced around the room, then his gaze landed back on her.

Pressing his hands to her cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ears, his face sunk into the soft skin under her ear lobe and he murmured against her neck.

‘Thank fuck you haven’t got any posters of my old man in here or I would have had to jump you on the fire escape.’

She laughed, the giddy joy of being wanted, of being needed, of feeling sexy and desired, enough to send her excitement into the stratosphere.