Page 60 of Just for December

Evie looks to her feet. Why does he always have to be so articulate, so clear about what he wants?

‘Okay.’ She pouts. ‘No need to cry about it.’

He playfully hits her arm. ‘For pity’s sake.’ He laughs, visibly frustrated by herinability to be clear about what she wants. She finds the courage to look at him.

‘I’m hot for you, is that what you need to hear?’ she asks him.

He takes a step towards her. ‘Ooh,’ he says, a smirk playing on his lips. ‘Actually, yes. Say it again.’

‘I’m hot for you,’ she repeats, mocking him.

‘Say it like you mean it,’ he instructs, and it’s harder for her to stay playful, now. She can’t be cheeky when he’s licking his lips that way, looking at her like he could take her right here, right now, right on the street.

‘I’m hot for you,’ Evie whispers, and he’s inches from her, now, and it’s Evie who is licking her lips this time. ‘I’m hot for you,’ she repeats again, turned on by the nearness of him, his obvious lust. She’s scared to want him as much as she does, but it’s way sexier to let herself desire him than it is to withhold just how much she needs his lips on hers, his hard, muscled body pressed against her.

Before she knows what’s happening, he’s pushed her up against the wall behind her, one hand steadying her at the waist, the other snaked up under her hair to the nape of her neck, where he tugs, just enough to force her chin up so that their mouths can meet. It’s been days since they were last together alone, days since he muttered her name into her mouth between kisses, and she’s missed him too.

‘Take me back to the hotel,’ Evie tells him, and he goes one better, lifting her up in his arms so that she squeals. ‘What are you doing!’ She wraps her arms around his neck, and he carries her back the way they came, putting on a caveman voice to say: ‘Me, Tarzan Duke. You, Evie Jane. We, have sex in my room, right now.’

Neither of them even care that the photographer is having a field day. Evie just wants to be upstairs, in his bed, naked – and as soon as possible.

Duke Carlisle is an exquisite lover. As soon as they are in his suite, he has her pressed halfway up the door, and Evie’s legs are wrapped around him, her ankles locked under his ass so she can pull him in. He grinds against her, the bulge in his trousers obvious and delightful. His mouth is on her cheek, her neck. He appears to have set his own personal challenge to let no inch of her décolletage go unkissed.

‘Yes,’ sighs Evie. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

He carries her across to the bed, depositing her with such ease it’s like he’s placing down a bag of feathers. He’s strong. Really strong. Evie lies back and he climbs on top of her, and what comes next is carnal, filthy, and long overdue.

‘Yes,’ Evie says again, when she’s come so hard she thinks she might have pulled a muscle in her back.

Duke grins, and credit to him: he’s panting.

‘God, that was …’ starts Duke, and in between her own panting Evie agrees.

‘It was,’ she agrees.

He looks at her. He’s golden and chiselled. No man should look that good.

‘Shall we go again?’ he asks, his hand rubbing her thigh lightly, threatening to slip between her legs.

Evie hoots an involuntary laugh. ‘Absolutely not,’ she shrieks.

He looks at her, eyebrows raised.

‘At least not until we’ve ordered some food. I need to recuperate.’

He comes closer, rubbing his nose to hers, almost – but not quite – having his lips meet hers.

‘Lightweight,’ he teases, and Evie laughs.

30

Duke

Duke isn’t sure when it starts to happen, but it’s definitely whilst they’re still in the act. Evie is on top of him and has just moaned his name over and over and over again as she writhed around, before switching to repeating the fact that she was coming – over, and over, and over again. The sight of it – hell, the feel of it – was enough to make Duke follow suit not long after, but somewhere in between admiring her boobs, the crash of release through his body, and the feel of Evie’s skin on his, he has started to cry.

‘Are you okay?’ Evie asks, and it’s not the breathy, hey-that-was-so-sexyare you okaya person might expect after what they’ve just done. She actually sounds really worried about him. He can’t really see her very well and then he feels her fingertips underneath his eyes wiping something away and for a second he can see again, before it all gets blurry once more.

‘Urgh,’ he says, when he comes to his senses. ‘God, this is mortifying. God. I’m so sorry.’

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