Nice Girls Finish Last by Natalie Anderson Read Free Book Online

holding her hostage with just that look. She couldn’t drag her gaze away. It hovered between them—knowledge, awareness, honesty. With his sunglasses off, she saw the hunger in him. Her hormones rejoiced and the sensible, safe, walk-away decision of twenty minutes ago got fried in the heat roiling inside her. This might be a first for her but that didn’t make it bad. Crazy confidence flared, coiled inextricably around recklessness. In that instant she knew she’d do whatever the hell she wanted.
    He was what she wanted. She would be the vixen she’d once been branded. Just for one night.
    She undid her seat belt. ‘Okay, you can cook dinner. But I’ll help.’
    She turned from his victory smile and got out of the car to unlock her flat. She was halfway across her lounge when she heard her front door shut with a thud.
    She paused; her sense of intimacy screamed higher. So did her pulse. So did her until-this-afternoon-dead sex drive. Blood rushed and hunger pooled, relentless in its demand.She turned to look at him. Yes. This wasn’t a desire to fill an emotional need—a renowned playboy wasn’t the guy for that. But she was sure he could satisfy the physical void she was suddenly acutely aware of. He was the most impressive man she’d ever met. And given where she worked, that was saying something. It seemed she’d been stabbed with an adrenaline injection. Okay, a lust injection.
    â€˜Nice place.’ He carelessly dropped his keys onto a table near the door.
    â€˜You sound surprised.’ She watched him slowly turn full circle in the centre of her room. The opportunity to ogle him was too tempting. Just looking made her more restless. A tall man in suit trousers and a cotton shirt—how could so simple be so sexy?
    Erotic urges clamoured for her to act. In part because she couldn’t believe this actually might happen. It was as if she was driven to push it fast now, for fear he’d change his mind—that this was all a joke or something. But she could hardly jump his bones two seconds after letting him into her house. She tensed her pelvic muscles to get the hot, hungry feeling under control, only that made it worse.
    It was sick. And, frankly, sensational.
    â€˜No flatmates?’
    â€˜Not right now,’ she squawked an answer. She’d been thinking about getting a flatmate to help expand her woefully small social life but hadn’t had the time to advertise yet.
    â€˜It’s very comfortable.’ His attention lingered on her big sofa. It faced a big TV screen. Yes, she had a sub to the satellite sports channel.
    Dazed by the rushing feeling, she half managed to keep the conversation going. ‘You didn’t expect that?’
    â€˜For some reason I thought you’d have a more minimalist approach.’
    Lena laughed. This was no cool, clutter-free room; instead almost every area could be sprawled on. The oversized sofa and big armchair were covered with rich fabrics, rafts of cushions and a couple of soft wool throws tossed over for good measure. Which was the point. She wanted her home to offer comfort, not be filled with the trophies of siblings, or photos of other people’s success. The house where she’d grown up had been filled with mementos of family glory—none of which had been hers. It had been the environment where success and achievement were all that mattered. Here there were no tick charts or training programmes or study guides pinned to the walls. This place was her sanctuary.
    â€˜I just wanted a place to relax, you know?’ She tried to joke but sounded too husky.
    He faced her directly, his blue eyes bright. ‘If I get onto that sofa, I don’t think I’ll get off it again.’
    â€˜Then no sofa just yet.’ She flicked her tongue over her hot, tight lips. ‘I’m hungry.’
    â€˜Hungry is good,’ he said softly. ‘Because I’ve got lots to