He made her feel like an enchantress. And she longed to be able to cast a spell—so she could get herself some kind of fairy tale.

Stupid. She already knew the power to make her life something special was in her own hands—down to her decisions.

So she gave up on the bubbly and switched to mineral water in an attempt to regain sanity. But it didn’t help her increasing temperature—the need spiralling through her system. She was hotter than she’d ever been in Africa—and now glad of her skimpy dress. She couldn’t be this close to him and not have him.

‘Are you ready to leave?’ His eyes searched hers.

She looked away from the heat in them. ‘Whenever you are.’

He had the goodbyes done and them out of there in under ten minutes.

They drove back through the dark, wet streets. It was late but she wasn’t tired. Every sense wide awake.

‘Did you have a good time?’ He finally broke the silence.

‘Yes,’ she admitted honestly. ‘Did you?’

‘Yeah. Parts of it were pretty good.’

He pulled into a parking bay a couple of spaces from Phil’s building. She felt a bite of disappointment. There’d been no invitation back to his place. It really was over, wasn’t it? He might have flirted, might have stolen a kiss, but when it came to it, he was playing safe.

He turned off the engine and looked at her. ‘Thank you for coming with me today,’ he said gruffly.

Well, neither of them had come. But she wanted to. Badly. Once more the recklessness flowed through her veins—the damn-it-all-to-hell burst of ‘I want’ that had swept over her in Africa.

And so she moved, undoing her seat belt and leaning towards him. She did what she’d wanted to do all evening. Hooking her hand round his neck, she brought his mouth back to hers.

What caused this madness? Was it the champagne or the frock or the whole shock of the evening when they’d been exposed as almost newly-weds?

None of the above. It was pure Seb. From having him so close and not touching him the way she’d ached to for seven or so hours. The pressure had mounted inside her, now it was on its unstoppable release. And with the rush of sexual adrenalin she remembered there were benefits to simply taking what you wanted. To just going for it. Excitement—raw and intoxicating.

He had long legs and so the driver’s seat was positioned back as far as it could go—meaning there was plenty of room between his chest and the steering wheel. She used all of it. Straddling him, her dress slipping up as she spread over him, she unfastened his trousers.

‘Ana.’ But he didn’t resist. Indeed his hands helped, his mouth settling on her most sensitive areas. He knew. He knew so well how to please her.

It was quiet and dark on the London street. But inside the car their breathing was harsh and fast and their movements frantic until the blissful moment when she pushed down so he was deep inside her. She clenched her muscles hard to hold him. Loved the raw groan that shook him.

‘I thought we weren’t in Africa.’ He nipped the side of her neck and she shuddered with delight.

‘This is hotter than Africa.’

‘Sure is.’

His hands slid over the silk of her dress, seeking skin, seeking to slow. But she rode him fast, catching his mouth to muffle the sounds as they both came too quickly.

Only moments later, panting, she understood the futility as the surge of bliss waned and the hunger returned threefold. This wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. Chasing fulfilment in this physical way was a mistake.


She’d opened his door and was off his lap before Seb could blink, let alone breathe.

He leaned out and grabbed hold of her hand. ‘You’re not inviting me in?’

‘I don’t want to disturb Phil and Jack.’

Given that those two were a couple of hundred miles away, he knew that would be impossible. She’d just lied—using them as an excuse to stop him from spending the night with her. Ironic when she’d been the one who’d just ravished him. But now she was running. Again. He let her go. ‘OK.’

He watched her fly to the door as if the devil were at her heels. Looked down and saw he still had his seat belt on. He half laughed, figured she’d just put a whole new spin on the concept of safe sex. Yeah, real safe sex. The sort of sex where she didn’t look him in the eye and didn’t deal with him after—neither physically or emotionally. The sort of sex he’d had most of his life. And while it was frisky and fun, wickedly exciting, all of a sudden it wasn’t enough.

Something savage burned deep inside his belly. No. He didn’t want sex like that any more. Well, he did, but he wanted even more—he wanted to hold her close in a big bed for hours. He wanted her to look at him, laugh with him, damn it.

Tags: Natalie Anderson Billionaire Romance
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