One Wild Night With Her Enemy by Heidi Rice

CHAPTER THREE

‘I’VENEVERBEEN in a seaplane before!’ Cassie shouted into the microphone attached to her helmet above the rumble of the plane’s engines as the floats skipped over the water and the aircraft gathered speed. ‘Does that mean you owe me another first?’

Luke sent her a smile. ‘Nope—because I’ve never had a woman in this plane before either.’

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but still her heartrate bumped in her chest as the plane rose from the water.

She gasped, and awe pressed against her ribs as the aircraft lifted over the Golden Gate Bridge. The plane tipped to the right, giving her a panoramic view of Oakland and San Francisco sprawled across the hillside, and she squinted to pick out the places he’d already taken her tonight.

Her heart catapulted into her throat for about the tenth time that evening. But it wasn’t the amazing views as they headed out onto the open water, leaving the city lights scattered like stars behind them, that was taking her breath away.

The plane’s wing lights lit Luke’s frown of concentration as he handled the controls with practised efficiency.

Ashling would die of shock if she could see me now.

She choked off a slightly hysterical laugh. Luke turned, pinning her again with that intense green gaze and making her insides purr along with the plane.

‘All good?’ he asked.

‘Wonderful,’ she said.

Why had she never done anything like this before?

‘The coastline is breathtaking in daylight,’ he said. ‘Green and rugged and untamed.’

‘It looks amazing at night, too,’ she said, as captivated by the man beside her as she was by the breathtaking view. ‘How long does it take to get to your home?’ she asked, not wanting the ride to end, but at the same time eager to kiss him again and feel his hard body against hers.

If a person was going to lose her mind for a night, she couldn’t imagine a more rewarding way to do it. This was so much better than trying a contraband cigarette at boarding school, or handing in an essay three hours late, or getting your flatmate to deliver your boss’s tuxedo and then discovering the fallout far too late to do anything about it.

Cassie sighed, remembering the tsunami of text messages she’d found on her phone when she’d turned it on at the airport. Tons from Gwen, from her sickbed, because she’d obviously been harassed by Temple when his tuxedo had failed to show—and one from Temple.

The tux has finally landed. Don’t get your flatmate to run errands for me in future.

Ashling going AWOL on her was nothing new, but by the time Cassie had found out about the problem it had been two in the morning in the UK and there had been no point in ringing Temple to apologise profusely, or calling Ashling to give her hell for screwing up such a simple task.

So Cassie had sent Ash a text from the wedding—which her friend would get in the morning—and then switched off her phone.

Thank goodness Temple wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge. But it was funny to think that ever since Luke had approached her she’d completely forgotten about Ashling’s latest ditzkrieg.

‘It’ll take about an hour to get to Sunrise Island,’ he barked out over the headphones.

‘I... I can’t wait to see it. Is there a reason why you decided to settle there?’ she asked, making desperate small talk again, trying to ignore the sudden drop in her stomach.

Am I actually doing this? Travelling to a private island for a one-night stand?

The hum of the engine cut through the silence. She turned to look at him, wondering at the sudden pause in the conversation, only to realise he had the same frown on his face he’d had back in the park, when he’d told her about his island home.

‘I like my privacy,’ he said at last.

The rest of the journey went by in a haze of stunning night-time views as the coastline meandered north. The lights marking their way in the darkness turned from clusters into sprinkles as they journeyed into Oregon. But as Cassie stared at the coastline the buoyant sensation which had been driving her decisions all evening turned into a leaden lump in the pit of her stomach...

‘I like my privacy.’

What was she actually doing? Taking him up on the offer of a one-night stand when the reason she was in San Francisco, the reason why she’d been at the wedding of his friends in the first place, wasn’t as it appeared to him?

Should she tell him about Temple’s interest in investing in Broussard Tech? Wouldn’t it be hopelessly unprofessional to bring up work now?

Yeah, Cassie, almost as unprofessional as climbing aboard his bike, kissing him senseless and agreeing to spend the night with him on his private island?

She blinked into the darkness, her newfound adventurous streak tempered by a cold, harsh dose of reality. And the spontaneous choice she had made at the marina didn’t seem quite so simple any more.

After landing Jezebel on the sheltered east side of Sunrise Island, Luke drove the plane into the small secluded cove below the house. The right float bumped against the dock as a sprinkle of rain hit the fuselage.

‘A storm’s brewing.’ He glanced at his passenger, who had been silent for the last half-hour of their journey. She hadn’t been the only one.

Why the heck had he invited her to Sunrise? It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by an organ other than his brain—and by the transparent wonder on her face when he’d shown her the city view from his favourite spot in Buena Vista Park.

Something about her unguarded, refreshingly artless reaction had made him want to show her more. And the next thing he knew he’d been heading across the bay towards Sausalito.

He had a penthouse condo in San Francisco less than a mile from the Botanical Gardens. A nice place—sleek and modern and expertly furnished at an eye-watering cost by an award-winning design team in one of the city’s snootiest neighbourhoods. It was the place he always took the women he dated.

But once they’d got across the bridge the feel of her wrapped around him like superglue had driven him a little nuts, and he’d found himself taking the road to the marina where he had his plane docked.

Now her small white teeth worried at her bottom lip and the heat landed back in his lap.

Not much point trying to figure out the dumb decision to bring her to Sunrise now. With a storm brewing they were stuck here for the night, so they might as well make the most of it.

‘We should probably get inside before the storm hits,’ he said, unclipping his belt. ‘The weather in this region can get nasty fast,’ he added, unfastening her belt too, because she’d made no move to do it herself.

He turned to open the door to the aircraft and she grasped his forearm.

‘Wait, Luke. I need to tell you something,’ she said, and the glare from the plane’s interior lights illuminated the shadows in her eyes before her gaze darted away. ‘Something I should have made clear to you before I agreed to come here...’

She looked more than worried now. She looked guilty and freaked out.

The heat twisted and burned in his gut. But a kick of disgust at himself wasn’t far behind, reminding him of a man he had always despised.

‘Hey, Cassandra,’ he said, touching her chin and lifting her head so their gazes connected. ‘There’s no pressure here.’ His gaze dipped to take in the hint of cleavage revealed by his open jacket as he reminded himself what tonight was really all about. ‘I’m not gonna lie...’ He took a deep breath, deciding to give it to her straight. ‘I want to explore every inch of you tonight, and make you moan and sigh and gasp a lot more...’ His lips quirked as hot colour flooded into her face. ‘And make you blush so hard your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.’

‘Actually, they already are,’ she murmured.

The wry rejoinder surprised a laugh out of him in the middle of his big speech. He touched his thumb to her burning cheek and grinned, happy to be back on solid ground. Their chemistry was real and immense—this invitation wasn’t about anything more than that.

‘Yeah, I can tell,’ he said. ‘But here’s the thing,’ he added. ‘You don’t owe me anything. There’s five bedrooms in my home and no expectation that the one you sleep in tonight has to be mine. You got that?’

He forced himself to drop his hand. If she was having second thoughts he wasn’t going to pressure her either way—because that would make this more than it was.

‘I...’ She blinked, looking taken aback. ‘That’s very gallant of you,’ she said.

Gallant? What the...?

He choked out a laugh, relieving some of the tension snapping in his gut.

‘What’s so funny,’ she asked, her clear-eyed pragmatism something he was becoming addicted to.

‘That’s another first for me,’ he said. ‘No woman’s ever called me gallant before, either. Now you owe me a first.’

‘Are you sure?’ she asked, looking genuinely surprised. ‘I suspect a lot of less gallant men would have expectations after flying a woman several hundred miles for a hook-up.’

Another laugh escaped on a spontaneous bark of amusement, but beneath it was a strange feeling of uneasiness. ‘Yeah, I’m one hundred and one per cent positive no woman’s ever even thought of me as gallant before,’ he said.

‘Then they were fools,’ she said, outraged on his behalf.

‘But you still owe me,’ he said, to keep things light as the weird clutching sensation he’d felt earlier—when she’d been so impressed with his hundred-buck gratuity, and again when she’d looked at him as if he’d given her something precious in Buena Vista Park—returned.

He wasn’t gallant—not even close. And he didn’t want to be. He took her hand in his and lifted her fingers to his lips. Time to get the night back on track. If she wanted gallant, he knew how to fake it.

‘So, are we good to go?’ he asked, lifting his eyebrows in a deliberately lascivious way that had her choking out another of those musical giggles.

‘I don’t think that was ever in doubt,’ she said, but then the blush seemed to intensify again. ‘But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s to do with my work for Zachary Temple and Temple Corp.’ She tugged her fingers from his, stumbling over the words. ‘I’m here to—’ He touched his finger to her lips to cut her off.

‘Shh...’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he added.

He’d heard of the British billionaire businessman’s reputation as a smart investor. Once upon a time Luke would have had to go cap in hand to a guy like him. But not any more. Not since he’d taken his company global and pushed his income and his industry cachet into the stratosphere. Thank the lord.

Perhaps she figured he was planning to prise information out of her about her boss? Or pitch for investment.

He should be insulted. He didn’t need investment, or to impress men like Temple any more. And he sure as heck didn’t need to mix business with booty calls. Broussard Tech had taken the tech industry by storm because it produced quality, innovative, unique products. Not because he used sex to further his business interests.

But, strangely, he wasn’t insulted—he suspected her hesitancy wasn’t because she was judging him, but because she was judging herself. He’d never met a woman before who was such a knockout but seemed so unaware of it.

He guessed it was one of the things he found so refreshing about her. But he did not want her nerves getting in the way of their booty call. Especially with the rain lashing against the fuselage as the storm arrived in earnest.

‘Are you sure?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to sleep with you under false pretences.’

Oh, for the love of...

‘Cassandra,’ he said, trying to sound firm, when the words ‘sleep with you’ in that prim UK accent had made the heat pounding in his pants hit critical mass. ‘There’s gonna be nothing false about tonight. As far as I’m concerned we left our professional interests back in San Francisco. Anything that happens tonight is between us and only us. You got that?’

She tugged at her lip again with her teeth, torturing him for one more excruciating moment, but then she nodded. ‘Okay...if you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure.’ He grasped her hand and tugged her across the console. ‘Now, let’s get up to the house before we drown.’

Cassie raced up the slick stone steps cut into the cliff-face behind Luke.

She was soaked through in seconds, but it was a warm, revitalising rain, washing away the guilt and the hesitation and leaving behind a freshness, a newness, and a woman committed to making tonight a memory to savour.

The relief was immense—but not nearly as immense as the tidal wave of excitement which swept over her as Luke’s house appeared out of the mist and rain, lit by the same solar-powered flares illuminating the steps up from the dock.

The Pacific Ocean churned below them as the wind picked up its pace and the storm arrived in all its glory. The sleek modern structure of glass and steel, redwood and granite, rose out of the rock face in stacked terraces, blending into the surrounding landscape of dense forest and millennia-old volcanic rock.

Oh... My.

She imagined the structure would be glorious in the daylight, when the waves crashed against the rocks, framing its magnificent view over the ocean, but at night it looked dramatic and daring.

Her heartbeat bumped into her throat, and her breathing turned into staggered pants as they reached an arched doorway. Sheltering her with his body, Luke tapped out a code on a security panel. The rain dripped off his brow and soaked into his shirt to reveal the shadow of chest hair and the bulge of muscle and sinew beneath.

The steel entrance door slid open. He dragged her in behind him and flicked a switch. A series of low lights revealed the cathedral-like drama of the living area—two storeys high and fronted by a wall of glass—at the end of the short redwood entrance hall. Cassie glimpsed sunken sofas surrounding a granite firepit, a state-of-the-art kitchen area and an open staircase leading up to a mezzanine.

Luke Broussard’s home made a statement, like the man himself. Both were unique and bold and breathtaking.

The entrance door slid closed, shutting out the roar of the storm, and all she could focus on was the distant rattle of water cascading down glass and the staggered sound of her own breathing. And his.

Luke tugged her round to face him. Her gaze became fixated on the magnificent contours of his torso revealed by the translucent shirt.

‘You good?’ he asked, as his thumb wiped the water from her lips.

‘Yes.’ The vicious shudder which racked her body had nothing to do with the clammy feel of her soaked clothing, and everything to do with the fire his touch ignited. ‘You have an incredible home,’ she added, dislodging his hand, desperate to fill the charged silence.

‘Glad you approve,’ he said, his wry tone turning the shudder of need into something absolutely terrifying.

What on earth was she doing here? She didn’t know the first thing about having epic sex. Or even about having one-night stands. She’d never even made love with anyone before, and certainly not with a man as overwhelming as this man.

Had she set herself up to fail? Spectacularly?

What if she disappointed him? What if she disappointed herself?

Seriously, Cassie, what the heck were you thinking? You’re not a free spirit. Or a sexual adventurer. You’re a boring workaholic who doesn’t know the first thing about satisfying herself, let alone satisfying a man like Luke Broussard.

‘Hey.’ Grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he brought her gaze back to his. ‘I can see you overthinking again.’

A laugh escaped. ‘It’s what I do best,’ she said.

His hand slid down to capture her neck. He nudged her back against the wooden wall of the entrance hall. She could smell him, heat and arousal and pine soap, above the scent of wood resin and fresh rain. Her hands settled on his waist, absorbing the tension in his abs and sending a shock of longing straight to her sex.

His mouth lowered to hers. She stared at his face, the yearning as intense as the fear now.

‘Close your eyes, Cassandra,’ he demanded, and she obeyed.

Then his lips were on hers at last. She let out a small sob, welcoming him in instinctively. He cupped her cheeks and angled her head so he could delve deeper.

And as he devoured her, every thought, every feeling blasted out of her head bar one.

I want this. I want him. It doesn’t matter if I muck it up.

The liberating thought loosened her tongue to tangle with his. Fire spiked in her sex and at every point where their bodies touched as she gave herself permission to fail, for the first time in her life.

He dragged his sodden jacket off her shoulders and dropped it on the hall floor. Grasping her waist, he lifted her, his mouth leaving hers to growl, ‘Wrap your legs around me.’

Again she did as she was told, clinging to his broad shoulders as he marched them both across the living area and up the open staircase.

The rain pounded the glass in undulating waves, like the tsunami of sensation battering her body. Hunger surged as they reached the mezzanine level.

A flash of lightning outside revealed a staggering view of the inlet below them and the storm-tossed forest. The trees bowed and buckled against the wind. The turbulent weather and the magnificent sight of nature reaching its nadir was almost as dramatic as the clatter of her heartbeat.

She usually hated the dark. A silly lay-over from childhood which had always embarrassed her. But the usual anxiety failed to materialise now, as her excitement spiked.

He barged backwards into a room off the landing and shouted. ‘Lights on!’

The sudden glare illuminated a stunning if sparsely furnished room, dominated by a view of the ocean and the distant sprinkle of lights along the Oregon shoreline miles away. Then Cassie caught sight of her reflection in the dark glass. She buried her face against his neck to hide her burning blush. With her clothes and hair drenched, she was a total mess.

But the moment of panicked vanity lasted less than a second when he murmured, ‘Lower...’ and the lights dipped to a shadowy glow.

He put her down, still holding her waist. Her legs wobbled, unsteady, unsure. But then his mouth returned to hers—firm, commanding, uncompromising—telling her in no uncertain terms how much he wanted this. How much he wanted her.

He took control, his hands exploring her curves, and exploiting the dazzle of sensation across her chilled skin. She followed his lead, threading her fingers into his wet hair, loving the feel of his hard body against hers.

Thank goodness someone knew what he was doing.

He broke away and his questing fingers paused. He stared at her, his face shadowed by the soft light but fierce with need, and she felt a residual flicker of panic. Had he already figured out what a fraud she was?

‘How the hell do I get you out of this thing?’ he asked.

The frustration in his voice had a laugh popping out alongside her relief. ‘Here,’ she said, and lifted her arm to locate the tab.

But before she could lower the zip he took charge again. ‘No, let me. I’ve been dreaming of peeling you out of this all night.’

She nodded and let go, exhilarated by the sharp concentration on his face as he eased the zip down. He skimmed his fingertips over her shoulders to push the dress’s straps off. The flash of hunger and desire that darkened his expression only vindicated her more.

No hesitations, Cassie. No regrets.

The gold lamé, heavy with water, dropped down and snagged at her waist, leaving her breasts bare.

‘No bra...’

He groaned, the sound deep and feral. She crossed her arms over her nakedness instinctively.

‘Don’t...’ he murmured, the word half-command, half-plea.

Taking her wrists gently in his, he lifted her arms free, his gaze branding her. Her nipples—already pebbled from the cold—squeezed into painful peaks. He swore, and circled his thumb over one, then the other. ‘Belle...’

She shuddered, her emotion as powerful as her desire when his gaze locked on hers. Naked need echoed deep in her sex.

‘You cold, cher?’ he asked, the gruff question making it sound as if he were having trouble speaking English.

She shook her head, speech deserting her completely.

If this is just a one-night stand, why does it feel so intense?

Cradling her heavy breasts, so sensitive now that she couldn’t stop shivering, he sent her a lazy smile, but fierce passion filled his eyes.

‘Let’s warm you up anyhow,’ he said.

Then he bent his head and captured one engorged peak between firm lips.

She sobbed, her fingers sinking into his hair to drag him closer, and to keep her knees from buckling as he drew the nipple deep into his mouth. Heat cascaded through her, flooding into her core, the sensation becoming overwhelming as he feasted on the swollen flesh.

He suckled strongly, one breast then the other, until she was weak and aching with need, every point on her body desperate for something more.

At last he released her from the torture and shoved the sodden dress the rest of the way to the floor.

Kneeling, he bent his dark head to touch her belly. Then he eased off first one sandal, then the other. He skimmed his thumb over the raw spot where the leather had rubbed her heel.

‘Ouch,’ he said.

But she couldn’t feel the pain any more...had stopped noticing it hours ago.

Then he hooked his fingers into her lace panties and eased the damp scrap of material down her legs.

Holding on to his shoulder, she stepped out of her underwear, naked now, while he was still fully clothed.

She’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, before in her life. But as he stood up the yearning only pulsed harder in her sex. Her head barely reached his collarbone.

‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ she managed, folding her arms over her breasts, still damp from his lips.

He nodded, his eyes glassy with desire, then ripped his shirt loose from his trousers, dragged it over his head without unbuttoning it to reveal the sculpted beauty of his naked chest. The strong lines bunched as he moved. The tanned skin was marked by several small scars, and the black ink which ringed his collarbone was not barbed wire, she realised, but a tangle of thorns.

He had other tattoos. One on his bicep of a bird of some kind, and a line of text in French—or probably French Cajun—arrowing into the dark line of hair which bisected his six-pack. But before she could read the words, or attempt a translation, he kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, ripped open his fly and shoved off his trousers and boxers.

Her mind blurred as his magnificent erection—hard, thick and long—stood proud from the thicket of hair at his groin.

Moisture flooded her sex and dried in her throat. She reached out to run her fingertip down the thick length.

He made a tortured sound and the massive erection jerked against her touch. But then he grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away. ‘Don’t...’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she blurted out, meeting his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to...’

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said, his tone raw. ‘But we’ll have to take a rain-check on the foreplay.’

A rain-check? There’s going to be a next time?

Something that felt disturbingly like joy burst in her chest, but then he scooped her up and placed her onto the bed. She bounced on the coverlet, the tumultuous feeling only intensifying as the storm continued to rage outside, matching the thunder in her chest.

He knelt over her, trapping her under his big body as he reached into the bedside table and located a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, and she watched him sheath himself with the protection.

She braced herself, ready for him to plunge deep into her yearning sex, but instead he moved down, cradled her hips in strong hands and sank his face between her legs.

He trailed his tongue up her inner thigh, sipping and licking, and she bucked off the bed.

‘Ahh...’ she cried, the sound as incoherent as her thoughts, her feelings.

He parted her with his thumbs and blew on the molten bundle of nerves already throbbing painfully. Then he swirled his tongue through the slick folds.

‘Please...’ Her cries became louder, as she begged, so shocked by the pleasure battering her body she could hardly breathe. ‘Just...’

‘Just what, cher?’ He looked up, his smile as devastating as the crash of thunder outside. ‘You know you taste even better than you smell?’

‘I... Really?’ she asked, then realised how ridiculous she sounded when he gave a deep, husky laugh. But before she could become embarrassed he licked her again—right...there.

She shuddered...sobbed. Then he closed his lips over the swollen nub and flicked his tongue across it. She bucked, writhed, desperate to escape the torture, but just as desperate to have it never end. He held her steady, held her open as he worked the tender nub. The wave gathered—strong, fast, too furious to bear.

Everything inside her clenched tight, bearing down. She moaned, her body arching up, bowing back, straining, desperate. Then she flew apart. The orgasm shattered her, cascading through her body like the waves crashing onto the rocks below.

She sank back to the bed, her body floating on a golden tide of afterglow.

His face appeared above her. ‘Encore,’ he demanded.

He angled her hips, his erection butting against her sex. And before she had a moment to brace herself he plunged home.

She flinched, the penetration immense, the full, stretched feeling too much.

He stopped, embedded to the hilt as she struggled to adjust.

‘So tight, cher...’ he murmured, the gruff tone tortured. ‘You okay?’

She nodded, her sex pulsing around the thick intrusion, the slice of pain thankfully receding.

‘You’re not a virgin, are you, cher?’ he asked, and the frown was back, his tone rough with astonishment.

She shook her head vigorously, suddenly desperate not to have him know the truth or this moment would take on a far greater significant than it already had.

He waited, searching her face as he held her hips, and didn’t move.

‘Really, I’m not...it’s just been a while,’ she finally managed, hating the lie, but hating the miserable feeling of inadequacy that she remembered far too well from her childhood more.

He nodded, and at last he began to move. But emotion scraped against her throat.

The pleasure ignited again—a flicker, then a throb in the deepest recesses of her body. It built and built as he rocked his hips, finding a rhythm that propelled her with staggering speed back towards that terrifying edge.

She clung to him as she had on the bike, her fingers slipping on his sweat-slicked skin. He grunted, growing huge inside the tight sheath. Her throat closed, and she felt the emotion gathering in her chest to form a fist, punching against her ribs.

The pleasure turned to exquisite pain, hurtling towards her. So fierce, so furious, she couldn’t think any more. All she could do was feel... Until the wave rammed into her at last and he made her fly once more.