She ran her thumb across his cheek, marvelling at the renewed rasp of stubble even though he had shaved only a few hours before. ‘It’s so exhilarating to tame.’
‘Tame?’ His brows lifted and the smile in his eyes dimmed. ‘I’m not in the market to be tamed, Ruby. You do realise that.’
The warning was clear and unequivocal. Embarrassment stained Ruby’s cheeks at the silly little stab of hurt.
‘Well, that’s good, Cal, because neither am I,’ she said, determined to believe it. She’d never be foolish enough to misconstrue her pleasure in the day they’d spent together as a desire for something more. ‘I thought you knew,’ she added. ‘I’m simply using you for sex.’
However much fun they’d had, Cal was the very last man she’d want to get into a relationship with. He was far too… Far too everything. Too smart, too charming, too controlled. He didn’t have a single chink in his armour. Which made him perfect fling material. But not the sort of man any sensible woman would want to risk falling for.
He grinned and the look of caution disappeared. ‘Using me?’ He twisted his head to nip her thumb. ‘I’d like to see you try,’ he replied, the uncomfortable moment gone.
Ruby smiled back, refusing to let the little jolt ruin a perfectly good seduction. ‘That sounds like a challenge,’ she murmured, letting the heady thrill of arousal course through her.
Gripping his shoulders, she raised up on tiptoes to reach his lips.
‘And I should give you fair warning, I always rise to a challenge.’ She threw his words back at him, flicking her tongue across his mouth then drawing back. He groaned, cool palms spanning her waist then running up her sides as he dragged her close and sank into the kiss.
His breath gushed out as he pulled away. ‘I suggest we take this indoors, before you get us both arrested.’
She giggled. ‘Spoilsport…’ She bent to pick up her sandals, laughing as he pressed his palm to the small of her back to direct her towards the exit. She noticed the envious stares from a group of young women sitting at the entrance of the packed café—and had a momentary fantasy in which she was Cleopatra, and Callum her Mark Antony.
Was there anything more exhilarating, she wondered, than bringing a strong man to his knees? This weekend was about letting her inner flirt off the leash for a short while and reconnecting with the empowering pleasures of great sex. And nothing more.
The fact that Callum was on exactly the same wavelength had to be a good thing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE raucous ringing of the phone interrupted the long languid sigh as Ruby stretched, every cell in her body tingling with afterglow.
‘Ignore it.’ Cal’s hand caressed her bottom. ‘The machine will pick up in a minute.’
Easing into a sitting position, Ruby leaned over him and grinned. With his eyes closed, his short hair furrowed into tufts and his cheeks flushed beneath his tan, he looked satisfied and ever so slightly shattered.
Cleopatra, eat your heart out.
Ruby Delisantro had brought her Scottish Warlord to his knees. And not just metaphorically speaking. They’d grabbed a cab back to his flat, not wanting to waste time walking back across the Heath, and then jumped each other. But instead of letting him dictate all the moves, she’d managed to surprise even herself with her desire to taste and touch him in ways that would make him beg.
And okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly begged, but he’d come pretty damn close.
‘What’s the matter, Westmore?’ she asked sweetly, brushing the damp hair back from his brow. ‘Too exhausted to even answer your own phone?’
He opened his eyes, a slow smile forming, the phone still blaring from the living room, then grabbed her round the waist and rolled over, pinning her beneath him. ‘I wouldn’t get too cocky if I were you, Delisantro.’
She laughed, loving the way his eyes lit with challenge.
‘Why not? I made you beg.’
A bit of an exaggeration, but she intended to push her advantage, as far as was humanly possible. She’d proved that their connection was just about great sex and all was right with her world again.
‘You’re good,’ he said, the appreciative chuckle pleasing her immensely. ‘But you’re not that good.’ Framing her face, he pressed his lips below her ear, began to nuzzle the sensitive skin. ‘Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll prove it.’
‘A couple of minutes!’ She sniggered, her body so enervated it was almost a sin. ‘Give me a break, you’re going to need more time than that.’
‘Don’t be too sure.’
Knowing him, he probably wasn’t joking, but she scoffed anyway. Because it was required.
His disembodied voice, measured and businesslike, echoed from the living room, asking the unknown caller to leave a message.