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the robe, locating the lace of her panties at her hip. The glide of his fingertips distracted her racing mind.

      ‘Is it that you don’t like my chopper?’

      Her lips twitched. The sight of him, relaxed, playful, a self-satisfied grin on his decadent mouth as he sprawled naked on her bed, soaked the panties he was now burrowing inside.

      She needed to change the subject. Fast.

      She forced her features into a stern glare. ‘What’s on the adrenaline agenda for tomorrow?’

      His grin widened, as if he sensed her diversion tactics. ‘Jet boating. On the Thames. I need to be back in London.’

      His probing fingertips traced the crease of her groin, his knuckles brushing the crotch of her panties.

      She rolled her eyes, biting her lip to contain the swell of excitement.

      ‘I have plenty of work to catch up on too. My latest client is super-demanding.’

      Why didn’t she just push his hand away? Kick him out of her hotel room?

      ‘He is?’

      He pressed down on her clit through the damp fabric, stilling her breath. His voice dropped an octave. Was that a hum of satisfaction? At finding her wet?

      ‘I thought he was super-accommodating.’

      Her gaze flicked down his ripped chest and abdomen to the thickening cock on his thigh.

      ‘If you want to scrap the thrill-seeking we could both get some work done.’

      Cool speech had become increasingly difficult, and the words emerged slow and sluggish.

      He grinned, one fingertip circling. ‘But the adrenaline is the best part. And what about our deal?’

      Libby spread her thighs a fraction. She needed more. Wanted more. Mention of the deal had returned her equilibrium. No more talk of weddings.

      He sprang up from his slouch, gripping her waist and expertly tumbling her under him. Air slammed from her. His face, an inch above hers, had lost its playfulness.

      ‘Come jet boating tomorrow.’

      His thighs slotted between her legs, spreading her open. His teeth caught his bottom lip and he pressed his erection to the damp lace separating them.

      Her robe had fallen open. His fingers curved under her bra straps, tugging them over her shoulders as his mouth trailed kisses over the tops of her breasts.

      His argument was persuasive. She breathed out an, ‘Okay…’

      He tugged one bra cup lower, exposing a nipple to his voracious mouth, and then he lifted his head, eyes wicked. ‘Good. Because I was about to ask you what you want.’

      Although his wandering mouth made speech difficult, she told him—and he complied.

      Something tickled Libby’s shoulder, her thigh, the back of her neck… Groggy, she stirred aching limbs.

      Warm, minty breath brushed her earlobe.

      ‘Wake up, beautiful. It’s time to fly.’

       Alex.

      She cracked open one eye to find her hotel room in darkness. ‘Time is it?’ She flipped onto her back to see him dressed, his hair damp, presumably from the shower.

      ‘Early. My chopper awaits.’

      He pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth, his lips soft and languorous. Despite his chiding, his eyes were playful.

      She groaned, her arms looping around his neck and pulling him down. ‘Come back to bed.’

      He chuckled into her neck. ‘I’d love to. But adventure calls.’

      His hand slipped under the covers again, fingers sliding up her thigh and zeroing in on her clit so her eyes popped open and she squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand.

      ‘Thanks for not kicking me out, by the way.’

      His lips brushed her ear, her neck, and the sexy rumble of his voice thrummed through her nipples in time with his exploring fingertips.

      ‘My creeping-around-like-a-teenager days are over. Skulking out of my own hotel at three in the morning would have been highly embarrassing.’

      She sobered.

      She should have kicked him out. Shouldn’t have invited him back to bed. Snuggling, sleeping together, waking up to his mouth on her—not part of the deal.

      Batting away his hand, she shot out of bed. ‘Do I have time for a shower?’

      She ignored his slightly bewildered expression, which heated as it travelled over her naked form. ‘Yes. But if you don’t want company in there I suggest you hurry. I had hoped to wake you up with my mouth between your legs, but I took pity on you. You were out of it.’

      Libby swallowed. Both images—her drooling in her sleep and him waking her with his spectacular oral skills—sent her heart fluttering behind her ribs.

      She dived into the bathroom, flicking on the shower and jumping in before he could make good on his word or before she relented and surrendered.

      She almost jumped through the glass cubicle when he said, ‘So, about this wedding…’

      He lounged in the doorway, and Libby was grateful for the frosted glass.

      ‘Do you mind? Some privacy, please.’ She poured shampoo into her hair, glaring at his smirking face.

      His gaze took one last, lazy tour. ‘I’ve touched most of your body with my tongue, inside and out, and now you want privacy?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Infuriating man. Bathroom-sharing was definitely not part of their relationship.

      He shrugged and moved just behind the door, so he could no longer see her but she could still see his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

      He raised his voice over the sound of the spray. ‘I don’t usually have to beg for dates. You’re crushing my ego.’

      Now he’d mentioned the ‘D’ word she definitely couldn’t go. Even though she’d never been to France. It was on her wish list. Not that she took holidays any more.

      ‘Go away.’

      He laughed. ‘Aside from the journey there, I promise no daredevil stuff.’

      ‘Weddings are for families.’

      Damn, she’d already used that argument.

      ‘I told my mother about you and she thinks you should come too.’

      Shampoo ran into her eyes and she winced. ‘You told your mother about me?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Why?’ Without the non-verbal cues, it was difficult to know what he was thinking.

      ‘She needed cheering up. Her second husband is American. She’d love to meet you.’

      Libby stepped from the shower, shutting off the water and wrapping herself in a fluffy, white towel.

      ‘I’ll think about it.’

      Her heart wasn’t in this argument. She blamed the remnants of jet lag and last night’s lack of sleep. But she had no intention of going to his cousin’s wedding or meeting his family.

      She fastened the towel around her chest and stuck her head through the doorway.

      ‘Aren’t you too tired to fly?’

      There was no way she’d get in that contraption again if he felt under par.

      His gaze gave her the once over. ‘Nope. I’m good.’

      ‘Because,

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