Page 17 of Tormented Dreams

Xavier's smile was almost blinding, making her chest constrict painfully as she witnessed the depth of his enthusiasm for this unconventional plan of his. "Exactly!" he exclaimed, his eyes dancing as if he were thrilled she understood.

Grace opened her mouth to reply, but Xavier forestalled her with a single finger to her lips. Despite her bewilderment, Grace still felt the telltale tingle of desire, where skin touched skin.

"Don't answer yet," he told her, the hint of his accent more pronounced in his enthusiasm. "It's a big decision. Not one that should be made on a whim. Think it through carefully before you agree. Think about whether it’s something you want. That youcan commit to. Decide if there are aspects that don’t work for you."

Grace knew her eyes had widened. He thought she was going to agree? No! Right there was the certain proof he sure as heck didn't know her very well at all. None of what he suggested was going to work for her.

She struggled between the visceral knee jerk reaction to tell him so right there and then, and the cool logic, which advised her that, of course, he didn't know her that well yet. They hadn't spent nearly enough time together outside the club, and what he was suggesting might actually be a way that was certain to move things forward. A way of driving them both to a place where they could renegotiate with a better idea of how they might find a compromise for what surely must be two extremes. Right now, they were poles apart, and that was something she’d never seen coming. And while Xavier said he was open to compromise… that he wanted her to tell him her own dreams, Grace didn’t feel this was the time to divulge those just yet, of course, so she could hardly blame him for not understanding how she felt right now.

A wave of pure emotion tormented her, pulling her in opposing directions. How could they ever find a compromise between dreams that were so far apart? How could she tell him that her own dreams were the very antithesis of her own? That they revolved around home and family, whereas his revolved around distance and contracts.

There was no middle ground here. Could there ever be?

Did she want to tell him her dreams, just to have them dashed when he realised just how far apart their wants and needs were?

No. She couldn’t bear that right now. She was still too poleaxed. Still trying to get her head around where they might ever find a compromise.

And she was selfish, too. She didn’t want their time to end. Not yet.

Her lips still tingled at the contact with his finger. Her body ached for him. Surely, she couldn't be blamed for wanting to enjoy one last night with him, before she blew off his fantasy scenario in favour of pursuing her own aspirations.

Was that really bad of her?

It didn't matter. Before she could decide one way or the other, her tongue had slipped out involuntarily and caressed the tip of his finger where it still rested, and his eyes immediately darkened with desire, the expression on his face one of brooding indulgence.

"Come home with me tonight." The words were out of her mouth before Grace knew she was even going to say them.

In response, Xavier raised his hand for the check without ever taking his eyes off her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

There was a heavy tension crackling in the air within the confines of Xavier's sleek BMW as he drove them both toward the dark promise of sexual satisfaction.

Grace was feeling unusually bold as she placed her hand on his knee and slowly, tantalisingly moved it higher and higher on his thigh, drawing light circles with her fingers on the fine wool fabric of his impeccably fitted suit.

Well, it had started off impeccably fitted. When she finally built up the nerve to cup him, Grace couldn't help noticing the fit was getting tighter and tighter as the hard evidence of his arousal burgeoned underneath her palm and strained against his zipper. A zipper she was toying absently with, wondering if she had the sheer audacity to open it, when his vice-like grip stayed her straying fingers and pressed them hard against his rigid flesh.

"You're playing with fire, little girl," he growled in a guttural tone that brooked no argument.

Grace had to brace herself against the overwhelming desire to squeeze her fingers around the impossible bulge, whichthrobbed beneath them, but despite being a masochist, even she knew better than to poke the bear too much.

Scant minutes later Xavier pulled up outside a gated driveway and pressed a remote control attached to his sun visor to open the decorative wrought iron barrier.

Grace sat up a little, distracted by the movement, and looked around.

"Umm, this isn't where I live," she whispered, peering into the darkness in front of them, where she could see the silhouette of a large, private house at the end of a long drive, flanked by what looked like a tall sentinel of poplar trees.

"I live closer," Xavier retorted gruffly, his voice thick with desire as he rubbed her trapped hand against his fly, letting out a deep groan as he did so. "And you are being a very naughty girl who is playing with fire!"

He didn't hang around. Pulling the vehicle to an abrupt stop in front of a darkened house that was barely more than a silhouette in the night, Xavier freed her hand and jumped out, marching around the car with purpose to open the door for her.

Once he'd captured her hand again to help her alight, he didn't let go and Grace had to trot to keep up with his swift gait as he marched up to the front of the house, input a code, and pulled her inside without any fanfare.

He continued unerringly through the building, without bothering with lights, and Grace swivelled her head from side to side, peering through the gloom, trying to make out the shapes around her as he led her up the stairs.

Xavier didn't stop until he reached a solid wood door at the end of the landing and pushed through it with unerring determination. He still didn't turn on any lights until, finally, he stopped at the head of a gigantic bed with a sturdy, wrought iron frame and flicked on a muted bedside lamp, which illuminated the room in low light and cast long shadows against the walls.

"Strip!" he grated out as he let her go and crossed to the floor to ceiling window to close the heavy brocade curtains hanging there.

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