Talking of sleeping... He smothered a yawn as he heeled off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it in the vague direction of a chair and put his hands on the waistband of his trousers.
Nah, better keep them on.
He could do with a few more barriers between him and Sleeping Beauty right now. He just hoped two layers—three, if you counted hers—would be enough to keep him out of danger.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANGELIQUE ROLLED OVER and breathed in the scent of lavender-scented sheets, citrus and wood and...warm, sleepy male.
Her heart gave a little flip-flop as she looked at the tanned arm lying across her stomach. It looked so dark, hairy and foreign against the ivory white of her satin nightie. It felt like an iron bar was holding her in place.
His strongly muscled legs were entangled with hers, just loosely, but they felt rough and strong. Powerful.
Had they...? She gulped. Had sex?
No.
No!
Hang on a minute... Her body didn’t feel any different. She knew without a doubt she would feel very different if Remy had made love to her.
She would feel...satisfied.
Because she couldn’t imagine him not doing the job properly. There would be no half-measures with him. He would know his way around a woman’s body like a curator knew their way around a museum. Interesting—some might say Freudian—choice of metaphor, as it felt like an aeon since she’d been intimate with anyone; but still.
Sex had always been a bit of a disappointment to her. She tried to enjoy it but she had never felt truly comfortable with any of her partners. Not that she’d had as many as the press liked to make out.
Her first experience of sex had been when she had gone to New York to sign with the agency. A photographer had hooked up with her for a couple of months but she hadn’t really felt valued as a person; rather, she’d felt more of a commodity, a bit of arm candy to be paraded around to gain Brownie points with his colleagues. That relationship, as well as one or two others, had made her come to the conclusion that sex was something men did to her, rather than something she experienced with them. She had always been able to separate herself from the act, to keep her mind to one side, to be the impartial observer.
She had talked to girlfriends about it and they had assured her she just hadn’t met the right partner. That it was all a matter of chemistry and timing. Animal attraction.
It was ironic that Angelique had one of the most looked-at bodies in the world, yet she felt a stranger to it in terms of passion. She knew how to pleasure herself but it wasn’t something she did with any regularity. She didn’t have the inclination or the desire. She wondered if she was just one of those people with little or no sex drive.
Remy’s arm tightened across her middle and he nuzzled against the sensitive skin of her neck. ‘Mmm...’ he murmured sleepily.
The sex drive Angelique thought was non-existent suddenly made an appearance. It was centre-stage and wanted to be noticed. She felt it stir within her core, a tugging sensation, a needy little ache that wouldn’t go away. Her breasts tingled from the brush of his arm as he shifted position again. His legs were entwined with hers and his erection—his rock-hard erection—was pressing against her thigh.
Was he even awake?
Maybe he was so practised at this he could do it in his sleep. She mentally rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t surprise her.
One of his hands moved up and gently cupped the globe of her breast. Even through the satin of her nightie she felt his warmth and the electricity of his touch. It made her hungry for more, to feel that large, firm hand on her, skin to skin.
He rolled his thumb back and forth over her nipple, making it ache and tingle with pleasure.
OK, so he had to be awake.
The sensible part of Angelique knew this was the time to step in and remind him of the hands-off nature of their relationship, but the newly awakened sensual part of her was saying the opposite.
She wanted hands-on.
His mouth found the super-sensitive area just behind her earlobe. Angelique shivered as his tongue moved over the area in slow, lazy strokes. His hand moved up from her knee to the top of her thigh in one smooth caress that made her inner core clench tight with longing, triggering a rush of dewy moisture between her thighs.
He shifted position again, rolling her further on to her back as his body moved over hers.
You really should stop him.
Not yet! Not yet!
His hooded eyes slowly opened and then he flinched back from her as he let out a rather appropriate profanity. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Angelique gave him a pointed look. ‘What am I doing? You’re the one with my breast in your hand.’
He frowned and looked down at his hand as if he had only just realised it was attached to his body and that he was the one with control over it. He dropped it from her and moved away and up off the bed.