Page 33 of One Night in My Rival's Bed

He stepped an inch or two closer and bent his head to brush my lips with a light kiss. Our lips met for the briefest moment, but it was like a match had been struck against bone-dry tinder. Heat, fire, flames, lust burned between our mouths in an explosive combustion. We both made desperate sounds in our throats and our lips and tongues met again. And again.

Grayson finally lifted his mouth off mine, his breathing laboured. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want you.’ The gravel-rough sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, so too the dark gleam of lust in his gaze.

I reached up with my hand to wipe some of my lip-gloss off his mouth. ‘Same.’ It was one hundred percent true. I had never felt anything like the level of desire that he stoked in me. Was it because we both knew it was a temporary fling? That it couldn’t last, so we had to make the most of it? Was that what was driving us so wild for each other? The clock was ticking and, because of that, every moment we spent together was consumed with our desire to make the most of what we had while we could.

The sound of Ethan’s chair approaching the sitting room made me spring back from Grayson as if I had been burnt. But then I had been—burned, singed, fried by a lust so consuming it was making me wander into dangerous territory. The territory of feelings and emotions that had no place in a fling such as ours.

Niamh came in with Ethan and she narrowed her gaze at me. ‘What happened to your chin?’

I lifted my fingers to my face, confused by her concern. ‘Nothing.’

‘It’s red like a rash or something,’ Niamh said, coming closer to inspect my face.

My stomach dropped as I realised what had caused it—stubble rash. Those stolen kisses had left a red circle of evidence on my chin. ‘It’s the preservatives in the champagne.’ I put my glass down. ‘It’ll fade in a while.’

‘But you’ve never had a reaction before,’ Niamh said.

No, and I had not been kissed so thoroughly before either. ‘I’ve got some cream in my purse. I won’t be a minute.’ I left the room to go to the bathroom. I closed the door and walked over to the mirror over the basin and grimaced at my reflection. My make-up had been rubbed off, leaving a patch of red where Grayson’s stubbly skin had grazed mine. I touched my fingers to the reddish patch and something hot and liquid trickled in my core.

It was like Grayson Barlowe had branded me as his.

I opened my purse and took out a sample tube of my foundation and applied a new layer to disguise the stubble rash. I reapplied some lip-gloss and popped the tube back in my purse, snapping it closed with a click. But there was no cover-up for the shining light in my eyes or the molten heat in my body.

By the time I came out of the bathroom, dinner was ready in the dining room. Niamh had even gone to the trouble of writing place cards, and I found that I was seated opposite Grayson. His eyes met mine across the table and I had to work hard not to show how much it affected me. But then I felt the gentle brush of his foot against mine and another wave of searing heat flowed to my core.

I found myself eating almost mechanically, saying all the right things in all the right places, such as what a lovely job Niamh had done and how delicious everything was. But, to be honest, I could barely taste a thing. I could only think about how much I wanted Grayson’s mouth back on mine.

‘Yes, indeed, it’s wonderful,’ Grayson said, putting down his cutlery. ‘Did Ash teach you to cook?’

‘Oh, no,’ Niamh said with a little self-deprecating laugh. ‘She always said I was too messy, or I would burn myself or something.’

‘Well, I love your cooking and I think you’re amazing at it,’ Ethan said, reaching for her hand across the table, his expression warm and tender.

I was temporarily lost for words. Unusual for me, but still, it was a shock to see myself as others saw me—as an over-controlling big sister who was more concerned about keeping the kitchen tidy than whether her disabled sister learned to cook. Had I unconsciously held Niamh back out of guilt? Had I done too much for her to compensate for how I had let her down in that playground by not properly watching her? Had she missed out on learning important life skills out of my guilt?

And, even more important, was Istillunderestimating her capability?

‘I’ll go and get dessert,’ Niamh said, rising from the table. ‘Can you give me a hand with clearing the plates, Ethan?’

‘Sure.’ Ethan rolled his chair away from the table.

‘Wait—let us do that for you,’ Grayson said, getting to his feet.

‘No, absolutely not,’ Niamh insisted. ‘You’re not to make allowances for us. We’re quite capable of putting on a dinner party by ourselves. You and Ash can entertain each other for a few minutes. That is, if I can trust you not to be mean to each other.’

‘We’ll be on our best behaviour,’ Grayson said, looking at me with a sardonic glint in his eyes.

‘Yes, of course we will,’ I said, forcing a smile.

Once Ethan and Niamh had left the room, I picked up my champagne glass and took a sip.

‘Aren’t you worried you might get another rash from that champagne?’ Grayson’s expression and tone was playful.

I gave him a mock-glare. ‘You could have told me I had beard rash before Niamh noticed it.’

His smile curved one side of his mouth in a way that was devastatingly attractive. ‘I like seeing the effect I have on you. It turns me on.’

I tried but failed to suppress a shiver of reaction. ‘Stop it. They might suspect something is going on between us,’ I said in a hushed whisper.

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