Page 69 of Masquerade

“There’s an annex at the back with windows that open and shut. It currently opens onto a concrete courtyard, but, like your garden, it could become a magic garden and the space for children’s book club.” She became animated when she talked green, like his father.

“I’m guessing you showed your unimaginative designer the door?” Liam sympathised.Why am I thinking of my father now?“Need help finding another?”

“I put out some feelers.”

“Let me know if I can help.” He glanced around the room. They lived here or in the bedroom. He could hear his father’s voice,‘ridiculous to be barricaded in a few rooms of your own house by poor taste you’ve paid for’. “Maybe I should move.”

“What? Sell?” She sounded shocked he’d consider adjusting his life for her.

Liam’s life had been upended by a blonde con woman who’d spun his father a hard luck story and bled him dry. No one, other than Niall, needed to know the cause of his father’s death. Liam could give him that dignity, but he was sorry his disillusion made Kate doubt herself.

“I don’t own this place. It was available and close to Clelland’s when George offered the job.” He waved his fork in the direction of the living room. “I’m not looking to buy.”And don’t ask me why a successful lawyer doesn’t own his own place.

“I assumed you created the garden because it was yours.”

“I built the garden because I need green space, or I’d go mad.” A rock-solid truth for him. “Another legacy from my dad.”

“The first being science fiction.” She was a woman who listened. He liked that about her. “How long have you been here?”

“Just on two years.” Liam grimaced. “I recently renewed the lease for another twelve months. I didn’t expect my life to change.” An admission he hadn’t expected her in his life. He pointed to her empty bowl. “Finished?”

“My turn to clean up,” she said. “You cooked.”

While she moved around his kitchen, he studied her. Efficient, without wasting unnecessary time or energy. She tackled her research the same way. In his arms, she was the opposite. Supple, sensuous, seemingly indifferent to the demands of a world beyond them. Yet attuned to him in ways he’d never imagined, to his breath, to his heartbeat, to the tension in his body before orgasm.

Her contradictions were what kept him coming back for more.

When they made love, she was either gloriously greedy or heart-stoppingly languid. Fast—she could walk in and without planning it, they’d be screwing their brains out against the back of the door. Or—he swallowed a moan—sensuously slow. Like a few nights ago, when despite the cold, she’d undressed under a full moon in the garden, discarding one item of clothing at a time until she’d stood like Botticelli’sBirth of Venus; a goddess born of sea foam, ethereal, luminous and more desirable than any woman he’d ever known.

“I’ve got an idea,” Liam said, when she’d tidied everything away. “Can I interest you in practising one of our ground rules?”

“On the basis practice makes perfect?” She stepped into his arms, raising her hands to tangle with the hair at his nape. Her body yielded, responsive to the stroke of his hand down her spine, her eagerness banishing the doubts left by Selina’s putdowns. Shimmying closer, she ran her fingers along his jaw. “Which rule?”

The light pressure in her touch shot Liam from sexy play to raw hunger in seconds. He groaned because his plan required some finesse, or at the very least, some time.

“The one about enjoying the moment. Come with me.” He linked fingers and guided her to the living area. A few buttons on a panel near the door dimmed the lights and turned on his music system. Blues surrounded them, a whiskey-soaked bass voice singing of hot nights and even hotter kisses, of cool pools and water cascading over bare skin. Liam hoped like hell he could pace himself to the music and spin out her pleasure.

At the solid, dining-for-eight table—soon to be replaced by Niall’s gift—he pushed a chair to one side. With his thumbs hooked in his pockets, he stood hipshot, his first move in the game. “Shoes off.”

Flashing him a sultry smile, she lifted one leg to set her boot on his elegant, soulless chair. When she bent forward, her body made a sinuous curve, and his pulse spiked anticipating her next move. She slid down the zipper, then kicked the boot in his direction. He caught it—just—her simple, neat movement going straight to his groin. But he braced for the second boot, catching it high and tossing it into the corner with its pair.

“Lose the stockings”—he made a circular motion with his finger—"this idea involves bare feet.”

She set her beautiful backside on the chair, her skirt riding higher up her thighs.

“Praise the saints, you’re wearing real stockings.” He went rock hard, needing all his control to keep his distance.

“I saw them and thought of you.” Her mouth formed a pretty pout. Unhooking one stocking, she slid it inch by tortuous inch down her creamy thigh, over her freckled knee, and on down her sturdy calf until she reached her ankle. The dark fabric pooled there. He shut his mouth to keep from babbling. By the time she tugged it over her toes he’d almost forgotten his game plan.

She had her own. Like a pole dancer jettisoning a piece of strategically placed lingerie, she swung the scrap of fabric in a circle high above her head before flinging it behind her. With the second stocking, she wriggled and her skirt rose high enough for a glimpse of white cotton at the apex of her thighs. Blood pounded in his temples.

“I like the way you take off your stockings.” He dispensed with his Oxfords and socks. “Come closer.” He crooked a finger at her. When she sashayed until her toes almost touched his, he growled. “Wriggle them, and tell me how it feels.”

“Plush, luxurious, not what I expected in this lacklustre room.” She stretched her arms out at shoulder height, letting her toes sink into the thick pile and her body yield to the rhythm of the song. She was pure temptation. He couldn’t stop thinking about those white panties under the heavy skirt.

“Let’s dance.” Liam caught her in his arms.

Her cheek rested against his. He closed his eyes, savouring the friction of having her thighs moving against his, her right hand tucked tightly against his chest, his cock rising between them in brazen anticipation. He was an idiot to have missed the possibilities in this room before now.

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