The toes ducked into his open trousers and rubbed his erection, only the thin fabric of his shorts between his flesh and hers. The pain and pleasure was excruciating. He wanted to take himself out of the shorts and let her have free reign but common sense told him not to be ridiculous. What if someone came over? He shouldn't have let it get this far. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't...oh, what the Hell, it felt too good to stop now.
Nick closed his eyes and let the sensations course through his body. He heard someone moan—himself?—and bent his head forward.
She felt good. Damn good. Her toes stroked, an endless circular motion that quickened his pulse. He sat forward on his seat, bringing himself closer to her foot.
She had managed to get his trousers even wider apart and she was massaging him, up and down the hard length caught inside his shorts. It pleaded with him to be released from its tight prison. As it grew and expanded, he had no choice—he reached under the tablecloth, not totally aware of what he was doing, and fumbled the button on his shorts.
His erection sprung out, and he heard Abbey gasp. He looked up at her and the lust in her eyes told him she was enjoying this as much as he was. Both her hands were below the table and he wondered whether she was touching herself.
The thought that she might be made him harder, hotter.
Her toes caressed him, lightly at first then, as if detecting his need, she rubbed her foot against the base before caressing the shaft all the way to the tip. The movement made him pant.
"Abbey!"
The angry voice above him sent a jolt through Nick. The foot suddenly stopped rubbing and he heard a quick intake of breath from Abbey. He looked up, trying to control his breathing, and stared straight into the eyes of a man.
Jealous eyes.
The man glanced from him to Abbey.
"Tarken!" She stared wide-eyed up at the newcomer. "What the Hell are you doing here?" There was frustration in her voice, but no indication on her face of what she'd just been doing under the table. Nick hoped he looked just as composed.
"Having dinner. Who's he?" The man, Tarken, jerked his thumb in Nick's direction.
"None of your business."
"None of my business? Abbey, come on, I—"
"She said it's none of your business," said Nick, keeping his voice low. "Now leave."
He hoped Tarken didn't have enough guts to challenge him. Nick couldn't get up—he was still protruding from his shorts.
Tarken rounded on him, a challenge in his eyes. "Who do you think you are, ordering me around?"
Nick drummed his fingers on the table. Who the hell was this arrogant S.O.B.? And how dare he speak to a woman that way. How dare he speak to him, Nick Delaware, that way!
"Who are you?" Nick countered.
"Abbey's boyfriend."
Chapter 4
Nick felt like something was pressing down on his chest. Abbey had a boyfriend? And it was this idiot?
The man, Tarken, was dressed in casual but expensive pants and a Ralph Lauren shirt; his hair tousled in an overly styled boy-band way. He supposed many women would consider him a good looking man with his dark blonde hair and square jaw. He definitely didn't look like a pimp. Not that Nick knew what a pimp looked like. Maybe he really was her boyfriend.
"You are not my boyfriend!" said Abbey, her eyes spitting blue sparks in Tarken's direction. "You seem to have forgotten that I found you kissing Melinda yesterday. She told me you'd slept together while I was away. And I seem to recall telling you that we were through when I handed in my resignation."
Even in the dark restaurant, Nick could see Tarken's face had flushed.
"I think you should leave," said Nick quietly, deliberately. Damn, he couldn't get up. He needed a distraction. "Waiter!" The waiter was immediately at his side. "This man is bothering us."
Tarken's eyes widened and his face suddenly slackened. "I was just leaving. I've lost my appetite anyway."
Nick watched as Tarken rushed out of the restaurant without even glancing back at Abbey. When the eyes of the other patrons finally diverted, Nick discretely zipped his fly. He glanced across the table at Abbey but she was looking down at her empty plate.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded but didn't look up. "Sorry about that," she muttered. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."
"You didn't. He did." Nick drew in a deep breath, feeling more in control now that he was no longer in such a vulnerable position with his fly open. He reached across and touched Abbey's arm, folded in front of her on the table. She looked up at him. Her eyes were moist. She looked incredibly lost. Small. He just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, kiss her. Tell her everything was okay because he'd take care of her.
Nick shook his head to dismiss the ridiculous thoughts. Taking care of a hooker was not on his agenda for the week. What was coming over him? Melbourne was having such a strange affect on his behavior. Or maybe it was the heat.
Banishing all possessive thoughts, Nick straightened. There was something he wanted to know. "So, is he your boyfriend?"
"Not any more."
"He cheated on you with someone called Melinda?"
She nodded and turned away.
"He's a fool. If I were him, I wouldn't let such a beautiful woman like you go."
Her head snapped up. Her eyes bore into his but he was damned if he was going to look away. Nick Delaware never looked away first.
He didn't know why he'd said that. It had just tumbled out of his mouth. If he weren't careful, he'd turn into a soft romantic. He swallowed, Abbey's direct gaze unnerving him with its penetration. Finally, thankfully, she wavered and glanced away.
Nick let out a long breath. He should not have said that. The last thing he wanted to do was give Abbey the wrong idea. He didn't want to encourage her. This wasn't Pretty Woman. He had to remember she was a just a hooker. That Tarken guy may not look like a pimp, but that didn't mean he wasn't one. Although he was no longer Abbey's by the sounds of it.
Nick frowned, recalling something Abbey had said. Since when did hooker's hand in resignations?
"Abbey, when you said you handed in your resignation, what did you mean?"
She glanced up at him. He thought he saw amusement flicker through her eyes before they returned to their usual intense blue.
She held up her hand. "No more questions. Not about Tarken, okay?"
Nick blinked. "Now wait a minute. I deserve —"
"Let's get out of here," she said quickly. Ready?"
He would have pursued the issue of the resignation and Tarken, except those words made him forget everything except the touch of Abbey's toes.
He signaled the waiter, paid the bill and stood.
"Let's go."
Abbey followed Nick outside where it was still warm, despite the sun's disappearance over an hour ago. She felt strangely relieved to be out of the restaurant, where a surprisingly pleasant meal had turned sour with Tarken's unexpected arrival. Of all the restaurants to choose, he chose that one!
She hadn't thought of Tarken all day, and with the game of footsies under the table, she'd been caught with her pants down. Well, Damien had.
It annoyed her that she'd gotten upset over Tarken's appearance, and his demand. Not because she wanted Tarken to see her like that, but because she didn't want Damien to see her as anything less than composed and in control.