The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,9
control it most of the time, but in moments like this, with a gorgeous woman inviting him up to her room, he hoped he wouldn’t turn into a stumbling mess. He’d already had a brief lapse at the bar he hoped she’d missed.
“I’m renting here for six months,” she said, as the elevator dinged on the fiftieth floor and the doors slid open.
“You’re here on business?”
She nodded as he fell into step beside her. “My cousin’s opening a practice in South Wharf not far from here, and I’m acting as a consultant.”
He hadn’t pegged her for a doc. “You’re a medico?”
“Physical therapist.” They stopped outside 5050, and she slid the key card through the slot and opened the door. “And no wisecracks about groin pain or magic hands, okay?”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, immediately imagining her hands on his groin.
They hadn’t remotely flirted, but he’d seen the way she’d looked at him downstairs. He knew the signs. He wasn’t vain, but stunt work meant long hours at the gym, and he knew women appreciated the result.
He’d craved a distraction tonight. If the alcohol didn’t cut it, maybe the lovely Samira could.
Placing a hand at the small of her back, he guided her inside. Her swift intake of breath confirmed he hadn’t misread the signs.
“I’ll get the stain remover pen I always carry when I travel,” she said, sounding breathy, leaving him standing inside a smallish, modern apartment with killer views of Melbourne from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. She returned quickly, brandishing the stain remover.
“You’ll have to take off your T-shirt,” she murmured, her cheeks crimson as she stared at his chest, the tip of her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip. “There’s a bathroom next to the kitchenette.”
He didn’t move, and when she continued eyeing him like she wanted to lick the stain off, he made a lightning-quick decision fueled by one too many whiskey shots and a desire to obliterate the next ten minutes of dancing around their attraction.
“Okay,” he said, grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, peeling it off, and bunching it in his fist.
He blamed the alcohol, having the balls to blatantly throw down the challenge. If she felt the attraction, she’d do something about it. If not, he’d grab the stain remover from her and take his dirty T-shirt into the bathroom.
“Wow,” she murmured, gnawing on her bottom lip as he saw indecision cloud her eyes, her coy reticence surprising him. She had to be a few years older than him, and women over thirty were usually more confident.
When she continued to stare at his chest with wide eyes and not make a move, he held out his hand.
“If you give me that, I’ll take care of this?” He gestured at the balled-up T-shirt in his hand.
“I’m hopeless,” she muttered, as she took a step toward him. However, she didn’t give him the stain remover. Instead, she took the T-shirt out of his hand and laid it on a nearby coffee table, along with the pen.
“And I’m drunk,” she said, shaking out her arms like she wanted to take a swing at him. “And I’m too old for one-night stands—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” He ran his thumb down her burning cheek, from her temple to her jaw, savoring the soft skin, eager to explore her skin all over. “You’re stunning. And I’m drunk too.”
She laughed as he’d hoped, her lopsided smile making him want to bundle her into his arms, the surge of protectiveness at odds with his intention to fuck all night.
She took another step closer and placed her palm on his chest, the heat from her skin branding him. She smelled amazing, like a bouquet of flowers, predominantly jasmine. Heady. Fragrant. Intoxicating.
As her palm skated over his chest, exploring every contour, he gritted his teeth against the urge to sweep her into his arms and back her up against the nearest wall. Instead, he raised her free hand to his mouth, turned it over, and bit the soft pad of flesh beneath her thumb. She jolted and let out a soft moan that made his cock throb. He did it again, harder this time, and she swayed toward him.
With a deliberate swipe of his tongue, he licked the redness away, giving her a taste of what he’d love to be doing between her legs right now.
“You feel amazing,” she murmured, her hand sliding from his breastbone to his waist, dipping into the curve of his hip, before stroking along his