Lovers' Dance Read Free Page A

when she realized it was too big before dropping it back untidily in the drawer. Then she pulled down a silk tie and knotted it around her waist. Matt was trying his best to ignore the almost painful hardness in his pants and forced himself to quietly back out the room, shaken from his unexpected reaction to the stranger in his room. And thoroughly aroused over the contrast of the white shirt against her dark skin.
    In a sort of daze he made his way downstairs, confused over the sudden desire to run his hands over that spectacular arse of hers. He ended up in his kitchen, pouring a shot of whiskey that he gulped down without an appreciation for its fineness. An image of her popped before his eyes, an image of her on his bed with his hands roaming all over her. He swore softly and poured another shot. Matt downed this one too with a shake of his head. This was what happened when he was too busy to engage in his usual bedroom activities with his usual conquests. He was fantasizing about a black woman who obviously had no sense of judgement. Walking around that area, on her own, at that time of night… who does that in London?
    Matthew Bradley was wealthy, spoilt and arrogant. Used to getting his own way in work and in his personal life. His family’s businesses were well-known throughout the world and he lived in an elite social class that few were allowed entry to. You were born into it. Matthew Bradley was privileged. And privileged men like him didn’t lust after women like the one in his bedroom upstairs. Only she wasn’t upstairs anymore. He could hear her calling his name tentatively and the throbbing below his waist threatened to overwhelm him.
    He hid his lower anatomy behind the counter and said loudly, “I’m in the kitchen.”
    Matt remembered with embarrassing guilt, the way he had stared at her sleeping form when parked up in front his house. Even then he had been fascinated by her stunning features, forcing himself to keep his sight on her face and nowhere else. Now, having seen her naked, he wanted to know what it felt like to have her legs wrapped around his waist while he… What was wrong with him? How could he be thinking like this about an injured woman he’d saved a mere few hours ago? Pulling his mind out of the gutter he arranged his features into a polite mask and awaited her arrival.     
     
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    I had a moment’s worry at Matt’s reaction to me wearing one of his shirts with his tie in lieu of a belt, and running shorts that I’d knotted at one side of the hip. His clothes swamped me, but I couldn’t go around in that pink bathrobe and my clothes were icky.
    “Hi,” I said, walking into the kitchen with my clothes bunched up in one hand. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your clothes.”
    He shook his head, mouth pressed into a thin line as his eyes followed me. Was he annoyed? I started to babble while resting my dirty clothes on the counter. “I didn’t want to wear your girlfriend’s robe—”
    “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he interrupted smoothly.
    I tried not to look shocked. “So, uh, the pink robe is yours?”
    Matt’s lips tugged at the corners. “No, it’s for my friend. I can find you clothes that fit if you want.”
    “Aaah,” I drawled with a knowing look. “And does your friend have a hairdryer here?” I gestured to the towel on my head.
    He nodded. “Would you like me to get it for you?”
    Feeling at ease with my strange rescuer I nodded back. “So clothes and a hairdryer. She’s your girlfriend.”
    “No, she’s not,” he shot back a bit sharply, then grinned at me to take the sting out of his words. I couldn’t help but grin back. He had a nice smile.
    “Yes, she is,” I said emphatically. “Or she wants to be. Seriously, Matt, when someone starts leaving clothes and stuff at your place, they’re planning on moving in. Soon.”
    “And what do you know about that?” he asked, fiddling with something in his hands. “You