Cocktails in Chelsea by Nikki Moore Page A

He untangled his legs from hers, getting to his feet. 'I- uh.'
    'Yes?' she asked hopefully, standing.
    'Sleep well. See you in the morning.'
    'Uh-huh.' Swallowing away the lump in her throat, she made herself respond. 'You too.'
    Was that it?
    He found her in the kitchen area half an hour later just as she was stretching up to grab a glass from one of the cupboards.
    'Can't sleep?'
    She paused, the football shirt riding up over the back of her shorts, before returning to a flat-footed position. ‘Nope.’
    ‘Here,’ he reached past her for a glass and put it down in front of her. ‘And me neither,' he continued, referring to his question about sleep. 'Any particular reason?'
    'Don't think so,' she shook her head. Praying he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice. The one that screamed how impossibly sexually frustrated she was. The one that said,
if you ask, you can take me now
.
    'This is stupid,' he muttered, stepping up behind her and sliding a burning hand onto her shoulder. She swore every ridge of his fingerprints was imprinting on her skin through the cotton top.
    'Why?' she asked shakily. 'Because if you're going to start going on again about me taking the bed-'
    'It's stupid because we want to be in bed together.' He nudged her forward, trapping her between the unit and his body, his front against her back.
    She could feel his erection against her bum, and his hard chest against her shoulder blades and nearly moaned the words, 'We do?'
    He went still. ‘Don’t we?’
    She folded back against him, knees weak. Be
brave. Take a risk. You do in everything else that matters.
She sucked in a breath. ‘I do,’ she muttered, putting her hands behind her back so she could run her nails up his thighs.
    He hissed out a breath. ‘Me too. So much. Come here.’ He swept his hands around her front and up under the shirt, cradling her bare breasts, tweaking her nipples with careful, deliberate fingers.
    She gasped and pushed back against him, muscles and nerves between her legs clenching.
    'Do you want me to stop?' he dropped his head to nibble her earlobe, his fingers playing and teasing.
    ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid.’ She blurted. Shit, that hardly been sexy. ‘Sorry, what I meant was-,’
    He chuckled in her ear, ‘You are brilliant, Sofia. You make me laugh, in a good way. Just say what you think, I like it.’
    ‘Okay,’ she gulped, ‘in that case, if you stop I might have to take a contract out on your life.’ It felt incredible being touched and held by him. Better than any clever skateboard trick or good surfing day.
    ‘I wouldn’t want to be hunted down by trained killers,’ he breathed into her ear and she could hear the smile in his voice, ‘so I guess I’ll have to obey.’ One hand slipped down inside the waistband of the shorts and her hands curled around the edge of the kitchen unit as his fingertips drew circles on her hip and drifted to her flat lower belly.
    'Oh, thank god,' she whispered and he laughed in a low quiet way that made her insides squish. Both of his hands returned to breasts. 'Sorry I haven't got much.'
    'You've got a tight, sexy body and I love it.'
    'You do?' She always worried she was a bit too taut, too boyish.
    'It's lovely. You're lovely.' He ran his hands down her sides and traced a forefinger along the bottom edge of the shorts, over her trembling thigh.
    She squirmed.
    He kissed her neck and tilted her slightly, moving his hand up and then down inside the front of shorts but this time his index finger dipped lower, using just the right amount of pressure in just the right way in exactly the right place. Sofia moaned, knees shaking and going to mush, grateful his hard body was supporting hers, or she'd be a hot mess on the floor right now. It was so delicious. He was so delicious, and sexy and confident as he kept touching her. She could feel how turned on he was and there was a gathering urgency between her thighs and deep internal muscles were clenching and sparking