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‘Perhaps I can convince you over another drink?’ He leant back against the bar-edge. ‘What can I get you?’
What could he get her?
She wanted to laugh as the word you rode on the tip of her tongue but instead she looked to Darren, ‘I’m already being taken care of.’
He followed her gaze. ‘Is that another vodka martini?’
‘It is.’ She smiled, her fingers toying with the empty stick still floating in her glass. ‘I think I’ve found a new favourite drink.’
His eyes travelled from her to the stick. ‘It’s quickly becoming one of mine too.’
She could take a guess at why. She would have said as much if he hadn’t spoken first.
‘So, what brings you here?’ He angled himself towards her, his forearm resting on the bar-top, his fingers coming to hover just above her knee. ‘Beautiful woman, no companion—it just doesn’t fit.’
Beautiful? She loved how that sounded coming from him, loved how close his fingertips were reaching. If she just uncrossed her legs they would brush against her, those long, capable fingers that were sure to possess such skill...
‘Business or pleasure?’ he probed.
Her eyes shot back to his, her thighs clenching anew. The way he said it—pleasure—it rolled off his tongue like a physical caress.
‘I was meeting someone...’ She was barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.
‘Was?’
‘They cancelled.’ She lifted her empty stick and nibbled at its end, needing to do something—anything to keep herself busy. ‘What about you?’
He eyed the stick, a pulse working steadily in his jaw as he took up his drink once more. ‘Business.’
She could hear it then, in that one simple word, an edge to his voice. A barely contained need that matched her own.
Her attack on the stick ceased, and her breath was shallow as she struggled to say, ‘Are you finished for the evening?’
‘Never even started,’ he said, that same husky edge to his voice teasing beneath her panties. ‘Lucky for me, they cancelled too.’
‘Lucky?’
He nodded, his lips quirking over his drink as he took a sip.
‘And why’s that?’ she said, dropping the stick to caress away the strain building in her throat.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Maybe—but I’d like to hear you say it.’
He placed his drink on the bar, his eyes coming back to her, ever closer. ‘Do you always get your way?’
‘Most of the time.’
‘Why is it I can believe that?’
He reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, his delicate touch sending an excited ripple through her, and then he trailed it down, the ripples multiplying exponentially.
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked, barely audible.
He studied her, his eyes dropping to her lips, their depths flashing darkly as she swept her tongue out to ease their sudden dryness.
‘I get the impression you can be quite persuasive.’
She knew what she wanted to say, knew it was brash, knew it was out of character, but... ‘Does that mean I can persuade you into an evening of pleasure?’
His brow flickered, the only show of surprise at her proposition, and then he grinned: a slow, heart-stopping smile that unveiled a dimple in his right cheek, the boyish feature at odds with the virile masculinity emanating from the rest of him.
‘Is that what you’re offering me?’
‘Would you accept if it was?’
He leant closer still, his breath teasing at the delicate channel of her ear. ‘Why don’t you try me?’
Heat flooded her breasts, her belly, her blood, and the world around her evaporated as she twisted into him, her lips instinctively seeking his...
‘Your drink.’
What?
Her disorientated gaze swept to the bar, to Darren sliding her drink before her.
Oh, God!
‘Thank you,’ she blurted, hurrying to mask the swamping disappointment. But he spotted it anyway, his smile apologetic as he picked up her empty glass and moved away.
‘How about we take this conversation to my table?’ came the appealing proposition from alongside her.
She brushed her fingertips across her lips, now thrumming with their near encounter, and flicked her eyes back to his. ‘I’d love to.’
* * *
He’d had to work hard to stop himself from saying place instead of table. And still he wondered—would she have said I’d love to in that soft, balmy tone if he had?
She gazed up at him with those green come-to-bed eyes and he wished he’d found out.
‘After you,’ he said, gesturing to her.
He made to pick up their drinks and then stilled, his concentration broken by the sight of her slipping from the stool.
Between the uncrossing of those seriously long legs and the cleavage he was working hard not to drown in he found himself rooted. Her height impressed him once again as she met his eyeline, her scent wafting up to him.
Not that he had any idea what herb or flower was involved in the making of it. But he liked it. A lot.
‘Don’t forget the drinks,’ she threw over her shoulder with a provocative smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief, desire, amusement... He hadn’t a clue.
It was taking his all to keep the conversation flowing and his own desire in check. Trying to read every fleeting expression that crossed her face and not jump to the conclusion that she was on the same desire-driven wave as he was nigh on impossible.
Grabbing the drinks, he followed her to the table, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the fall of her hair as it brushed along the gentle flare of her bum.
What it would be like to have that same hair flung across his bedspread? Or wrapped around his fist as he drove himself into her—? Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.
And there she went again, staring up at him as if he was seconds away from being devoured.
Now, perched on the end of the low-slung seat that had remained vacant at his table, her head came cock-high and heat rushed to his groin in greeting.
Adding to his pain, she crossed her legs, the action forcing her dress to ride high and reveal the top of a stocking, he was sure, before she righted it.
Too late. The damage was done. And she knew it. She’d watched the entire thing play out in his face. And, hell, he wasn’t even convinced the low lighting was enough to conceal the bulge down there.
He held out her drink. ‘For you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, her delicate feline fingers slipping over his own to take it from him.
The contact was soft and brief, but total dynamite to his over-active imagination as the image of her taking hold of something else ransacked his mind.
He watched as she lifted the glass to her glossy full mouth and tilted it, the clear liquid flowing into her as the olive bobbed at the base of the drink. And then she closed her lips and swallowed, her tongue emerging subtly to take away the remnants. The sight was sweet perfection to behold, utter torture to his straining cock.
‘Are you going to sit?’ she said up to him, her raised expression making it clear she had caught him staring, good and proper.
Did he care?
Did he fuck!
‘Apologies,’ he said, dipping his head in mock regret, his grin telling her he wasn’t sorry at all. ‘I confess to getting lost in the sight of you.’
It was corny, it was overly smooth, but again he didn’t care. It was the truth.
He placed his drink on the table and took his own seat, feeling her eyes upon him the whole time. The nature of her thoughts penetrated the air.
‘A penny for them?’
Her smile widened. ‘Something tells me a man like you should know well enough that you never ask a woman that question.’
He gave an easy laugh, staving off the heat raging below his waist. ‘What if I said there’s something about you that makes me want to ask that question regardless?’
She set her glass down and pressed her elbow into the arm of her chair, leaning in towards him.
‘Then I would tell you...’ she began, her voice low and husky, each word spun out as her fingers took up a slow caress over the exposed valley of her chest. ‘In that case I would divulge exactly what I’m thinking.’
He would have—could have—dragged her away from the bar that very second. The way her eyes beckoned him, the way her wandering hands lured him, the blood surging to his cock—it was all getting too much and he hadn’t so much as touched her.
And, fuck, did he want to.
The need ravaged him. He wanted to taste every last bit of her, stroke her until she begged for him to complete her, fill her body until she could do nothing but scream his name.
And yet she couldn’t. They had shared a lot in a few electrifying glances, but they hadn’t so much as covered the basics of My name is...
They should at least get that covered. ‘Perhaps we should start with introductions?’
She laughed. ‘Introductions?’
‘Yes,’ he said, surprised at her reaction. ‘You know—me Tarzan, you Jane, before we get carried away with this—’ he waved a hand between them ‘—undercurrent.’
‘Undercurrent?’ she repeated, her eyes dancing over the word, her fingers still doing their crazy damn tour of her body. ‘You know, I think you’ve summed it up perfectly.’
His eyes followed her fingers, his control teetering as he succumbed to the pull of her caress.
‘So?’ he pressed, his brain only half on the attempted introduction.
‘So...?’ she mimicked teasingly, the action both maddening and arousing. And then she dropped her hand to take hold of the stick floating in her drink and all thought of conversation disintegrated, obliterated by the sight of the inoffensive little green ball slowly being stirred around.
It was coming—he knew it—and the power of that sight, up close and with every alluring detail to feast upon, had his knuckles turning white.
‘Who needs names in this day and age?’ She lifted the olive out of her drink and tapped the stick against the rim of the glass to rid it of excess vodka. ‘Don’t you think there’s something to be said for leaving a little mystery?’
She looked at him on the last word, the stick pausing to rest against the glass edge. ‘It’s not like I’m here looking for a meaningful relationship.’
He wanted to say something smooth, but she had him stoked to silence. The perfect package was at his disposal—sexy sophistication brandishing a fuck-and-leave policy. He didn’t do relationships—they were for the weak and the needy. And, hell, if you weren’t weak at the off, you soon would be when it fell apart or, in the case of his dad, got ripped away. Then it would ruin you.
He lifted his glass and took a careful sip, swallowing down the unwelcome memories and throwing his focus onto the attractive bundle before him. ‘You and me both.’
‘Well, then, wouldn’t you rather...’ she leaned across the table and brought the olive to her lower lip, her cleavage forming an alluring backdrop ‘...we just got the hell out of here and had some fun?’
She parted her luscious pink mouth and popped the olive inside, her lips closing around the stick as her eyes held his with deliberate tease. Then slowly, painfully slowly, she pulled it out, her lips rolling outwards as they held the olive inside, stripping the stick bare.
‘I make that three olives now.’ His voice rasped, his mouth drying up at the inviting slickness of her lips.
She considered him, her throat moving captivatingly as she devoured the green ball. ‘Three—really?’ She smiled playfully, dropping the stick into her glass with a ting. ‘You’re very observant.’
‘When something’s worth observing I’d say I am.’
‘Is that what I am? Worth observing?’
‘You with that drink—definitely.’ His voice was tight with the effort of holding back, and his lack of control was so alien he knew he was in trouble. But right now he didn’t care. ‘In fact, if I was a religious man, I’d say the devil invented drinks such as those.’
‘The devil?’ Her brow furrowed and she nibbled thoughtfully at her lip, the innocent gesture smashing the last of his restraint. ‘Because of the corrupting alco—?’
‘No,’ he interjected, pushing himself out of his seat and striding to stand before her.
She looked up at him questioningly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He knew he’d surprised her but, he couldn’t wait any longer. To hell with where they were.
Reaching for her hand, he took hold of it and tugged her to her feet, the force sending her unresisting body right up against his own, her eyes flashing as they lighted on his mouth so close to her own.
‘Because they make me forget all decency and do this...’ He cupped her chin and roughly took her mouth in his, his tongue taking no prisoners in its desperation to sink inside.
An explosion of sensations went off at once. She tasted like heaven, like the olive, the vodka, the traces of gloss across her lips... And then she sighed, the soft, feminine sound escaping her lips as she gave way to his invasion and he lost himself in her. Her hands snaked through his hair, her tongue seeking out his own, twisting and flicking, tasting and probing...
His surroundings disappeared as every sense focused on her: her kiss, her smell, the feel of her breasts pushed up against him, the little sounds she was making, the desperate buck of his cock as it pressed into her lower belly.
There was a movement behind him, the brush of a chair and a muttered ‘Excuse me.’ It filtered through his brain, through the haze.
‘Get a room,’ a voice said.
His internal voice or a real person? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.
But he should care...
He should!
Reality came crashing down—he needed them out of there. Now.
Forcing himself to slow down, he tried to part their mouths, their faces. He was rewarded with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A playful protest that felt anything but...
‘Spoilsport,’ she complained, and her pout was to die for.
He took a steadying breath. ‘You’re cheeky, sweetheart.’
One hand still cupping her face, he freed his other hand to rub it across his own, trying to get himself composed. He should be more unnerved by his lack of self-control—but fuck did he want to run with it regardless. Something told him that letting go would be worth it. That she would be worth it.
He scanned the bar. No one seemed to be looking their way. But that wasn’t to say they hadn’t been seconds before. That voice had sounded real enough.
‘We were having fun,’ she said, drawing him back, her eyes wide and alluring.
‘We were having fun.’ He repeated her words. ‘But I think we could have more fun elsewhere. I can have my driver here in five?’
Her eyes flittered and his chest tightened. Was she going to refuse him?
‘Driver, you say?’
‘Yes.’ He moulded his free hand into her back, pressing her against him, against the hard swell of his cock. Don’t deny me. ‘I promise he will see you home safely...after...’
He continued to caress her lip with the pad of his thumb, loving how her tongue would dart out sporadically to moisten the path for his touch.
‘In that case you’d best call him,’ she said softly, her hand coming up to take hold of his fingers and pressing a chaste kiss to their tips. ‘I’ll go and settle up.’
And just like that she was on it, stepping out of his hold and taking up her bag from the table, heading for the bar. He watched her go, his eyes hooked on the sweet sway of her body, he blindly retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. He dropped his gaze just long enough to dial his driver and, efficient as ever, he answered in two rings.
‘I need you outside in five,’ he said into the phone.
‘Sure thing, Mr Wright. Where we heading?’
‘Home.’
He cut the call and thrust his hand through his hair. He didn’t take women home. He went to a hotel, or their place. That way he could leave when he was good and ready. Certainly before morning. But the thought of sharing this woman with an audience a second more, or navigating the whole reservation thing... He didn’t have the patience. Or the inclination.
But to take her home—what the hell was he playing at?
CHAPTER THREE
JENNIFER TOOK HER time heading to the bar, sensing his heated gaze upon her and wanting to give him a worthy show. Her posture was smooth and assured, her hips moving with teasing provocation, her hair swinging subtly with each step.
On the outside she screamed control, but on the inside... She was on fire for him. The blood pumping through her system was heated beyond comprehension.
She wanted them alone. Now. But racing to the bar was hardly going to scream sex appeal and the very idea brought a laugh to her lips.
‘Good night?’ Darren said, not missing her little eruption.
‘The best,’ she said, placing her clutch on the bar and sliding onto a stool.
‘Glad to hear it.’ He gave her a knowing grin but left it there, his professionalism overriding as he asked, ‘So what can I get you?’
‘Both bills, please.’
‘Sure.’ He raised a cocktail shaker to the side of his head and started rattling it with gusto. ‘Give me one min.’
‘No problem.’
She propped her elbows on the bar, her head resting on her hands as she watched him work. She likened herself to the contents of the metal contraption being so expertly worked in his hands—shaken and about to be devoured. She smiled blissfully, the idea suiting her just fine.
It amused her that he’d wanted her name. It was a sweet gesture—too sweet. She didn’t want sweet. Sweet only led to complications—the kind that brought feelings, even relationships. And there was no place in her life for any of that. Her career came first. Her career and her family. She had no time for more. Not yet.
No matter how hot, how sexy, how interesting...
She twirled her hair around one finger. No, she needed him to be all about the sex—definitely just the sex. Someone like him would be too dangerous, too much of a distraction, to have around for long.
But as for the here and now... A little shiver ran through her as she conjured up those eyes, that smile, the dimple.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was on his phone but he was watching her, just as she’d known he would be, the carnal blaze of his eyes heating her from across the room.
‘Here you go.’
Darren’s voice pulled her back to the bar and his outstretched hand, containing a silver tray with two bills. She slipped her card on top, trusting him implicitly to have it right. ‘Just pop it on there.’
‘No problem.’
His eyes flicked behind her as he moved to the till and she realised her impromptu date had moved. She could sense his approach radiating down her back, her fine hairs prickling in anticipation beneath the delicate fabric of her dress, and she strung the sensation out, waiting for Darren to return her card and wish her goodnight before she turned.
‘I hope you don’t mind...’ she said, looking up, and her words went the way of her brain, combusting on the pull of his eyes, that smile, that dimple...
He raised a bemused brow. ‘Mind...?’
She smiled through the desire. ‘I settled your tab too.’
He looked surprised. ‘You did?’
‘I did.’ His reaction amused her. ‘Do you always look this surprised when a woman pays her own way?’
‘I can’t say I’m used to it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, welcome to the modern world.’
He laughed, the sound husky and amplifying her already spiking libido.
‘Point made,’ he said, placing his hand in the small of her back and stirring up a truckload of nerves. ‘Shall we go?’
She grinned up at him. ‘Unless you want this modern woman to throw you over her shoulder and carry you out, I suggest we do just that.’
His laugh deepened and the desire to kiss him, to feel that excited resonance against her mouth had her on fire.
Soon, Jennifer!
She forced her legs to work and they headed to the lift, noticing that this time the attendant chose to avoid looking at her all together. What a nice change.
Even nicer still, the hand on her back started to wander, his fingers moving to caress rather than hold, his heat penetrating the thin veil of her dress and making her tremble.
He bent his head, his mouth hovering close to her ear, ‘Are you cold?’
She fixed her gaze straight ahead, fear that she would set upon him and give the attendant an eyeful making the glass doors suddenly riveting. ‘No.’
But two can play at that game, she told herself, sidestepping in front of him, just enough so that she could conceal her hand as it made contact with the front of his thigh.
He gave a sharp intake of breath, his thigh tensing beneath her splayed fingers and making her smile in satisfaction. Payback!
He was a delight to explore. The strong rigidity of muscle flexed as she stroked upwards, circling from his outer thigh to the inner—
His hand shot to her arm, his fingers gently gripping her in what she assumed to be a silent message to behave.
No chance.
As the lift descended she teased and coaxed until his hold eased enough for her to reach her target—his very tip. Lightly she brushed up and over. He hissed against her ear and her belly coiled with exquisite heat.
She traced around him, revelling in his growing reaction, coveting his size, his girth, his length...
She filled her hand and squeezed. He bucked within her palm, a cough erupting from his throat, and her smile grew as the lift came to a gentle stop.
Before them the doors opened, and she released him with a playful tap, stepping forward to exit with the attendant. He followed close behind.
The private hallway was deserted. Sounds of the busy city reached them from outside, but the windowless entranceway blocked it all from view.
‘Have a good evening,’ the attendant said, stepping back inside the lift and pressing the button.
She watched the doors close and the lift start its ascent, waiting for the attendant’s eyes to be out of sight so she could—
Whoa!
Startled, she found herself being spun into him, her eyes and mind barely registering his hold before he was propelling her back against the cold marble wall, his lips coming down to crush her own. He pinned one hand to the wall above her head; his other running up and down her side in brutal exploration.
Heat exploded within her, the ache between her legs flaring with such force she wanted to cry out as she kissed him back, her hands thrusting through his hair, her tongue delving into him, fighting with his own as she desperately sought more.
But he tore his mouth away, pressing his forehead against hers, his ragged breaths sweeping down her front. ‘You are a tease.’
‘You started it.’
She yanked him back to her. He obeyed for a split second, his tongue flicking teasingly into her mouth, and then he was breaking away to travel down her neck, his teeth nipping and grazing with dizzying effect.
‘God, yes!’ she cried, head arching back, hands invading his jacket as she strove to feel every bit of him. The hard muscles of his chest twitched and flexed as she explored—smoothing, clawing, pulling at his shirt.
The hand at her side reached the hem of her dress and he shoved it upwards, his fingers gripping the underside of her thigh as he lifted it, forcing her to wrap her leg around him.
He raised his head to gaze down at her, his hand tracing the band of her stocking, tension working in his jaw. ‘You’re dangerous.’