The Rules of the Game (D'Arth Series Book 1) Read online

  “I just love the feeling—you and the ocean. It puts things into perspective,” Damon said. “You can just take off for a few days—leave it all behind.” He smiled. He genuinely liked talking about it, she could tell. It was strange to see him smiling, he was so serious most of the time, and that wasn’t just the scowling she got from him pretty much every time she saw him. His smile relaxed his whole face, making him look carefree. It actually made him look more like the carefree guy she imagined for herself. She had to check herself; she was not going to think about him in that way, she forbid it. It was a road to heartache and she’d be ridiculous to take it.

  “And where do you go?” Jane asked as a way to distract herself.

  Damon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Sometimes I sail out to Great Barrier Island.”

  “On your own?” Jane asked.

  “Yes.” He’d mentioned before that he preferred his own company at times. He seemed to either spend time alone or with gorgeous society girls. Didn’t he take any of them with him when he went sailing? Although she could guess that they weren’t all that enthused about the sea and the elements in general. Maybe they were the ones he was trying to get away from. She giggled.

  “Something funny?” he asked.

  “No,” she said with horror. She couldn’t believe that she’d just giggled, like a little girl. “I think I’ve had a bit too much beer.”

  “Are you drunk, Miss Burrows?” he asked. There was a teasing tone to his voice.

  “No!” she protested. “Just a little … relaxed, jet lagged, sleep deprived, and maybe a little…drunk.”

  “Excellent,” Stephen stated. “Let’s dance. Enough of the chattering, let’s shake it. Where shall we go?”

  “There is a place on Orchard Road,” Damon said.

  “Really?” Jane said. “How exactly do you know this? Are you a regular? Somehow I didn’t really envision you as an enthusiastic dancer.” Alright, she really had to check herself; she was stating her thoughts a little too easily—things she should perhaps keep to herself.

  “It would amuse me to tell you that I am an excellent dancer, but it would be a lie. I don’t. Period.”

  “Then how do you know of this place on Orchard Road?”

  “Things one picks up.”

  “But you’ve been there?”

  “I have, Jane. There are always times when others want to dance, such as now. Shall we go?”

  Jane sobered a bit. It sounded like a good idea when Stephen mentioned dancing—not equally as good now that she realised that Damon was going to be watching. She wasn’t entirely sure she could or should shake her thing under his scrutiny. It seemed all levels of wrong. Wondering if maybe she should excuse herself and head back to the hotel, she knew Stephen would be very disappointed and she would sound like a bore even to herself. That gut-deep fear reasserted itself—being thought of as boring Jane. She wasn’t boring; she knew it wasn’t true, but there was always that little niggle in the back of her mind that wondered if that was how people saw her.

  *

  As they walked up the stairs to the club, Jane could hear the music. It wasn’t one of those clubs that played the dance music with a hard, loud beat—where it was too loud to do anything but dance. This club was more sedate; it had proper songs rather than an endless stream of relentless beats. They played some songs she loved too, as did Stephen, apparently. He grabbed her hand and headed straight for the dance floor. The others found a table at the edge of the dance floor and busied themselves ordering drinks.

  Jane did feel a bit self-conscious at first, but Stephen had no qualms and no concern what he looked like. He was flapping his arms and shimmying down, having a great time, and Jane decided that she would too. The sheer joy of dancing just took over. She was singing along without a care and just letting the beat take her where it wanted to. It was just straight out fun, there was no other way of describing it. They might be looking like idiots but she didn’t care. Stephen was having a fantastic time and his enjoyment was infectious.

  *

  Damon hadn’t planned on going to a club that evening, but the boys wanted to celebrate and now was the time for it. They deserved to cut loose and if they wanted to dance, let them dance. Stephen wasn’t holding anything back and he was dragging Jane along with him and she was clearly getting caught in the moment. Looking completely carefree, she obviously loved what she was doing. She didn’t seem conscious of anyone else there, other than Stephen and the little dance competition that was developing between them.

  He’d never seen her like this before, completely unaware of the people around her. He’d be lying if he said the little jiggles she did with her backside didn’t affect him, because they did. In fact, before long, his attention was completely honed in on her. She wasn’t trying, and that was much sexier than when they did try. He was used to women who tried very hard to make themselves appealing. Something very deep inside him was annoyed that she didn’t seem to notice him, because at the moment he could do nothing but notice her.

  There was a part of him that wanted to dance—not a part he would give in to. He hadn’t danced since his first year in high school, when he’d danced with this girl who’d later gone on and dumped him brutally in front of the entire school. He’d never really allowed himself to be put in positions of vulnerability since, and that included dancing.

  Now that he was watching Jane’s body and the way she moved, he had to admit that she had a fantastic figure under her corporate uniform. She was slim, but at no place could you actually see her bones. Smooth soft muscles covered her extremities and a flat stomach. It affected him in a way it probably shouldn’t. Then again, he’d had a ridiculous little amount of sleep in the last few days. Irrespective, he wanted her, probably more than he’d wanted anyone for a while. Maybe a little bit more thrilling because she wasn’t throwing herself at him. It had been a while time since there had been anything like a chase in his affairs.

  He watched as she succumbed to the heat and had to stop. He’d ordered a gin and tonic for her, but she bypassed the table and headed out to the balcony behind them. Grabbing her drink, he followed, finding her leaning on the edge of the balcony, looking down. He hadn’t noticed the balcony area before, with its large seating area.

  “I figured it would be cool outside,” she said, “I forgot this was Singapore. At least there is some breathing space.” She did look warm; red spots coloured her cheeks and she was breathing heavily. It did nothing to quell this response he had to her, particularly as she looked like she’d engaged in some very strenuous activity.

  “This will cool you down.” Taking the drink, she sipped from the tiny black straw.

  “So you don’t dance?” she said, turning her gaze on him.

  “No.”

  “You’re missing out,” she teased.

  “Clearly,” he responded with sarcasm.

  “If this bid is successful, you will have to spend a lot of time here.”

  “It is likely,” he said. “At least to get the project started.” He urged her towards a seat in a cluster just behind them.

  “I don’t know if I can get used to this heat.”

  “It takes a while, but you do get used to it. You even learn to relish it.”

  “I get so confused. When it rains, it looks cold outside, but you get shocked when you actually step outside.”

  “You should go swimming in the rain sometime. That’s an interesting experience. You can hear the raindrops on the water when you’re under.”

  “I’ll have to try it.” She was considering him. He didn’t know for what purpose. “Do you like working here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure I could be away from my mum.”

  “My mum is a bit more independent.”

  “By choice or by necessity?”

  “Are you asking if I neglect my mother?” he asked with a smile. She laughed.

  “No, just pointing out that maybe the relationship betwee
n mothers and sons are different than between mothers and daughters,” she said and stroked the material of her skirt. He couldn’t help noticing the action, wondering what it felt like. “Maybe you should take her sailing sometime.”

  “My mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think she’d like it. Besides, the point of going sailing is to get away from it all. That typically doesn’t include taking my mother.”

  “Does she nag you?” Jane smiled like she’d just uncovered a secret. She was bright; he had to concede, maybe in light of the last few days, she was much brighter than he’d given her credit for. Incidentally, it was true: his mother was demanding grandchildren, something that was pretty far from his lifestyle. He wondered how far it would be from Jane Burrows’s life—some man wanting to claim her in a more permanent way. He could definitely feel the temptation. Not so much the permanence, but the claiming part. He could feel the appeal down to his bones.

  “She wants you to be happy.”

  “No, she wants me to make her happy.”

  “Oh dear, sounds like a bit of strife in the D’Arth family,” Jane teased. This teasing thing was not good, not if she wanted to finish this night unmolested. She teased and challenged, and he was having trouble not rising to it. “Anyway, I think it might be time to head back to the dance floor.”

  Rising, then walked back inside, with her giving him a nice view of the gentle jiggle of her hips as she walked. He hadn’t expected being attracted to her, but it was nice to feel light and innocent desire. Their table was empty when they got inside.

  “The others must have gone,” she said.

  “I’m not surprised. It was only a matter of time before they ran out of steam. They’re probably asleep in a taxi already.”

  “You must be exhausted as well,” she said and looked at him with concern. “I had a few hours last night, when did you last sleep?”

  “I had a few hours too—the couches at the office are surprisingly comfortable.”

  “I suspect a park bench would have been comfortable last night.”

  “I think I have higher standards tonight than a couch.”

  “Let’s get you home then,” she said and headed towards the door, with him following her yet again. He liked walking behind her; it made the world a more interesting place. He felt a little twinge of regret though—there was a part of him that wanted to dance with her, just the two of them, but he wouldn’t give into such urges even if they were both weak from sleep deprivation.

  Taxis were lined up outside so they didn’t have to wait. Slipping into the back of one, he informed the driver of their destination and watched as the lights from the street moved along the skin of her thigh. Her skirt had ridden up slightly exposing a bit more of her lovely thigh. Closing his eyes, he tried to avoid the thought of running his hand up it, pushing the skirt back. He stopped watching her; he was going to send himself into a frenzy if he kept this up, and that wasn’t his style.

  Chapter 8

  She’d had a wonderful evening, and she was sorry it was over. She’d been thrilled when Damon had joined her on the balcony. He looked relaxed and he was friendly—not something she’d ever thought she’d receive from him. Admittedly, she had been a bit tipsy and maybe even a little provoking with the teasing, but he’d taken it good-naturedly, and she was more than impressed with that. It was nice to realise that he was human under the unapproachable exterior.

  Butterflies flared in her stomach every time she looked at him, because he had that intense gaze that implied that he saw everything—even the butterflies tickling her from the inside. He was just so ridiculously attractive. What would it feel like to be kissed by him, to feel his strong hands around her waist? She’d wondered what it’d feel like to be wanted by him—the thought sent a thrill of excitement down her spine.

  Now the night was almost over, the extraordinary night when they were actually close to being friends—like a gazelle having a truce with a lion.

  Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for her floor. He followed suit; he was a few floors further up. She suspected she might lie in bed wondering where he was above her—a few yards and some layers of concrete above, he was lying in bed, potentially naked.

  Leaning back against the railing along the wall, she watched him. He had this furtive look on his face. The elevator dinged as they arrived at her floor.

  “Stay,” he said quietly. Jane’s heartbeat rose to the point where she could feel her pulse pounding in her palms. He’d just asked her to stay. She knew full well it wasn’t for another drink; she’d be going to his room, and not for a drink. For sex.

  The seconds felt like minutes. She should be stepping out of the elevators, something in the back of her mind was screaming for her to get moving—but she didn’t. The doors started closing and she just watched them. Her hands felt clammy with nervousness. She was going to his room. She was going to see him naked, run her hands all over him and feel him inside her. Her core pulsed with anticipation. This was by far the naughtiest thing she’d ever done.

  It wasn’t that bad; it wasn’t like he was her boss. He was just a colleague and colleagues sometimes got together. It wasn’t like either of them were cheating; he didn’t seem to have a significant other, or even a girlfriend, unless he was close to that girl she’d met at the Hyatt.

  “You don’t have anyone back home who would be offended?” she asked. She did not want to engage in something that meant heartache for someone else.

  “No.”

  Feeling her temperature rise again, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. The elevator stopped and they stepped out. They didn’t have to walk far to get to his room, where pulled out a card and unlocked the door.

  Jane acknowledged her last point of backing out, but she stepped inside the darkened room lit only by the light in the bathroom. He wasn’t far away, just far enough for the door to close behind him. He wasted no time and advanced towards her, seeking her lips. Jane moved back until the wall was behind her. She couldn’t quite get her head around what was happening—she was kissing Damon D’Arth and it was fantastic. His kiss was just right, demanding, coaxing and deliciously decadent. She was enveloped in his scent again and it—along with the kiss—sent waves of urgency along every one of her nerve endings. He tasted glorious—spicy and woody, and nothing but male.

  As he pulled her closer, she could feel every hard curve of his body. He was so big compared to her, and so much bigger than her ex. His arms locked around her back as he pulled her to him, moving his lips down the side of her neck, immediately finding that spot that makes her knees weak. How did he just know where it was?

  He felt warm under the sensitive skin of her hands—not that every part of her wasn’t completely sensitised. His hands travelled up her skirt and he was skimming the edge of her underwear along her backside, before putting pressure on the back of her thighs, urging her to part her legs for him. She let him lift her up, sliding her legs along his sides, giving him further access to her body. Along with his heavy breathing in her ear, she felt his stiffness press on her core and a strong wave of heat shot out in all directions along her body.

  There was no issue about her being ready—she was ready. She wasn’t sure she had ever wanted sex as badly as she did right now. She wanted more, but he pulled back. Her legs came down to the ground as he stepped back.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “No,” she said. He smiled, but she couldn’t quite see his eyes in the dark.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, wondering why he’d stopped, why he’d pulled back. Maybe he was changing his mind—coming to his senses. Maybe he’d realised this had been a mistake.

  “No,” he said. “Just don’t want to rush.” Stepping forward again, he placed his hand on the side of her cheek and neck. “Don’t want this to be over too quickly.”

  “Oh,” Jane said, feeling the heat from his hand. She wasn’t entirely convinced about this slowing dow
n business; she wanted more right now. His hand travelled down and grabbed hers and he pulled her gently into the room. She let him pull her along, trying to calm her breathing, safe in the understanding that he wasn’t about to show her the door.

  He pulled her in front of the bed. She wanted to be on the bed, with him on top of her, but he was taking his time. He unbuttoned her dress, teasing her heated skin with the slight touches of his fingertips. Jane tried to remain calm as he continued. When he got down her dress, he ran his hand along the skin of her waist and she wanted to melt into him. Actually, she wanted to feel his skin, so she mirrored the same treatment.

  His breathing was deep and steady; she could listen to it all night. There was something inordinately sexy about just listening to his breathing. She got her reward as she’d unbuttoned his shirt and it parted to reveal his torso—strong and firm with a slight dusting of hair. His skin was smooth and warm, covering well-developed muscles. He was even more beautiful with his shirt off. She’d seen it before, the other day when he’d gone for a run, but it was something else entirely seeing it up close and available for touching and kissing.

  Kissing him on his shoulder, she revelling in the feel of his body skimming hers. Maybe there was something to this whole slowing down idea. She wouldn’t have experienced this if they’d just gotten down to it like she’d wanted. Anticipation sat heavily in her core, building into a dull ache.

  Continuing her undressing process, she undid his belt—soft leather felt tactile to her fingers and the discreet buckle was cold steel. Her fingers skimmed the taut surface of his lower abdomen, sending further thrills along her vulnerable nerve endings. She let her hand skim around the loosening waist band and down the firm curve of his backside. Jane almost groaned with frustration.