The car ride is torture. Her legs are distracting, especially in a peekaboo skirt cut at different lengths. One moment she’s covered, the next she moves her leg and the material slips and gives me a view of one supple thigh.
I weld my teeth together and force my attention on the road. I absolutely cannot wait to have her naked.
Presumptuous or not, she’s coming to bed with me tonight. Not because I’m an arrogant prick accustomed to having his way—though, arguably, I am—but because Vivian takes what she wants. I respect the hell out of that approach. It’s one I use often.
Inside, I hang my keys on a silver hook by the door. Hands in my pockets, I follow behind her, trying to see what she’s seeing for the first time.
The foyer opens to the living room, the tall ceiling extending all the way up to the second floor. The living room and staircase are divided by huge panes of glass framed in black and complemented by glass coffee and side tables. The flooring is textured brown wood, which “lends the space warmth,” according to my decorator. A modern cream-colored sofa with bold navy blue decorative pillows invites anyone to sit, the shag rug beneath it begging you to slip off your shoes and wiggle your toes.
Vivian does that next, after sinking onto a couch cushion and unstrapping her shoes. “These are the worst.”
Her forehead pinches as she reaches for her foot. She didn’t wear the shoes I bought her. I suspect that was intentional. She’s built her guard sky-high, and she wouldn’t want to flatter me too much. On the plus side, she anticipated seeing me tonight. Maybe even when picking out her dress. I like that I was on her mind.
I sit next to her and take the opportunity to touch her. She has one leg crossed over the other and I slide my hand around her foot. When she doesn’t stop me, I dig my thumb into her arch. She moans.
“Lie back,” I say. “You won’t be sorry.”
Her narrowed eyes hint she’s going to challenge me, but her smile disagrees. Adjusting her skirt, and giving me another glimpse of her mouthwatering thighs, she props herself on a fat down pillow. I make myself comfortable too, and lift her feet to my lap. I start with her right one and begin to rub. Thumb to arch, then up to the wide part beneath her toes.
Her eyelids shut and she sighs. She actually seems relaxed. A rare look on her. Have I ever seen her not on the move? At dinner, she sat, but she was ducking and dodging constantly. Not now.
“As foreplay goes, this won’t get you far.” A smile plays at the corners of her lush mouth. She’s putting me through my paces.
The kiss earlier was too brief. I’m already nostalgic for her flavor. Martini be damned, her taste was more like rich, velvety white chocolate. Or maybe I’m thinking of the heady vanilla scent of her perfume.
“I’ll fall asleep on you and then where will you be?” she murmurs sleepily.
“In that case, I’ll carry you upstairs,” I answer.
Her dark eyes open. She studies me carefully. “To tuck me in?”
Was that longing I heard in her voice? Does she crave connection as much as I do? Is she using me to feel less lonely? Do I mind being used?
Hell, no.
“Of course,” I answer.
“You’d let me sleep in your bed all by my lonesome?” I can’t tell if she’s sincerely asking or flirting with me some more.
“Sorry.” I dip my voice as I massage her foot. “Women don’t go to my bed without me.”
“How noble.”
Her mouth is good for more than kissing. She’s sass and class. Wrapped up in a reduced-price department-store dress and shoes that hurt her feet. I want to clothe her in the finest satin and lavish her with gifts. If you haven’t picked up on it, I’m a family guy who likes to take care of people. That said, I’m not usually this taken by a woman. This one already has me in knots.
“You can’t bribe me, you know.”
This again? “I haven’t.”
“You bribed me with shoes.”
“I gifted you with shoes. They weren’t a bribe.”
She puts her feet on the rug and sits up. Her dark, almost black, hair ruffles around her shoulders, having lost some of its bounce. It doesn’t take away from how beautiful she is. She let her guard down for a moment, but now it’s up again. As if she’s back on the clock. As if she’s trained herself to look and behave a certain way. I don’t like her buttoned-up. I want her wild.
“Shoes you should have worn instead of those,” I tell her as she flexes her toes in the deep-pile rug.
“I didn’t want you to know how much I liked them.” She turns her head to regard me over her shoulder. I can’t resist her delicate expression or the unexpected honesty that arrived with it.
“Admitting how much you like me seems equally difficult.”
“What makes you think I like you?” she purrs. Her eyes grow darker as she tilts her head.
“Hell, I don’t care if you do,” I lie. I like people to like me. It helps me sleep at night. “But I won’t deny wanting another taste of your lips.” I lift her hand and tug. She comes closer, and before I know it her lips land on mine.
That wasn’t difficult to orchestrate.
She allows me to take her other hand, but before I have a chance to pick my next move, she’s leaning against me, her breasts on my chest.
Clothing has never been more inconvenient.
“Sleeping with me won’t give you an inch at the bureau,” she informs me while unknotting my tie.
“Ironically, sleeping with me will give you more inches than you can handle.” I grin when she laughs. She has a nice laugh.
“Oh, I can handle your inches.” She undoes my shirt buttons, her attention on her work. “I don’t see the point in resisting you.”
“I know just what you mean.” The silken strands of her hair run over my fingers like water. When her lips hit my bare chest, I suck in a breath and shove my other hand into her hair. I’m holding her head while she licks a trail down my chest. The wet heat from her kisses sending me on an erotic roller coaster ride.
Tempting as this is, no way is she blowing me before I have her naked.
I unzip the back of her dress, and her face lifts to meet mine. This time when I kiss her, I pull the bodice of the dress down and cup her generous breasts. Her black lace bra costs more than her dress and shoes combined, I’d bet my bank account on it. I’ve purchased this brand for women before—it’s luxury. I know how to treat a woman and how to give a gift that will land me in her good graces…and between my bedsheets.
I unclasp the bra and slip the straps off her shoulders, then slide them from her arms. When her breasts are released to my capable hands, I suck in a breath of pure need.
They’re gorgeous. Heavy C-cups with nipples the color of the peach rosebud she was touching in the garden tonight. I touch them with the same reverence, watching her cheeks stain pink and her lips part. When I tug those tender buds and pinch lightly, her breathing takes on a hectic pattern.
Her fingers busy themselves undoing my belt as I continue my leisurely play. When she puts her hand into my pants and cups my erection through my boxer briefs, I let out a hiss.
“Well, well,” she says. “Big everywhere.”
“I promised you inches.”