He wanted to get her naked. Horizontal. He wanted to put his hands all over her. His mouth all over her. He hated her clothes. And his. He wanted them off. He wanted to imprint himself on her skin.

He was a Crosby, Stills and Nash song. He loved the one he was with. He was casual with a capital C.

Faith had no idea if he meant liquor, sex or a game of twister but she was up for all three.

I’m going to drag you down to the basement, kneel at your feet, rip your jeans down and I’m going to make you come so hard with my tongue the whole damn pub will think you’re being murdered.

He smiled that smile again. How could something so lazy do such busy things to her body?

He thought there was chemistry? Faith had always hated chemistry at school but if she’d known a sexy Australian was going to seduce her with it in the future she may have paid more attention.

He looked down at her and their gazes meshed for long moments. “I was wrong before. You’re definitely the best part.” Faith’s breath stuttered in her lungs. Nobody had ever said anything so damn romantic to her in her life. She’d been told she was gorgeous and beautiful and sexy by men who’d been keen to get her into bed but she’d never been told she was the best part of anybody’s anything.

Faith was certain they were breaking several telecommunications laws. Laws that in some states might well count as pornography and probably carried a mandatory prison sentence. Faith was a law abiding citizen. She prided herself on that. She didn’t litter, she didn’t cheat on her taxes and she gave up her seat for little old ladies and gentlemen on the bus. She’d never even jaywalked. And she lived in New York for Christ’s sake! But then his hand reached down and fondled his balls.

Faith had given up on the whole one-day-my-prince-will-come romantic bullshit