Read Between The Lines: Business of Love 6

by Parker, Ali

  I stripped out of my socks and returned to the bedroom as Walker loosened his tie.

  He turned and his eyes raked over me. “Why are you still dressed?”

  My cheeks burned. “Why are you?”

  He pulled his tie over his head and dropped it on the bed. His fingers worked to undo the collar of his shirt. As he did, he came toward me one slow step at a time. I held my ground until he was right on top of me.

  “There are so many things I want to do to you, Nora,” he breathed.

  I didn’t dare blink for fear of missing how he was looking at me. “What kind of things?”

  He reached up and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, leaning in close, daring me to falter. “I want to feel your thighs tremble as I reach that deep spot inside of you. I want to make you forget how to breathe.”

  He was already making me do that now. My voice failed me.

  What else do you want to do to me?

  He trailed his finger down my cheek, the side of my neck, and chest, until it landed at the front of my pants. “I want to make the rest of the world fade away.”

  I gazed up at him, mesmerized by the green of his eyes. “You already have.”

  Chapter 24

  Walker

  After a hotel employee dropped off our bottle of champagne and two flutes, Nora entwined her fingers with mine and pulled me along as she walked backward into the bathroom, balanced on the balls of her feet, her steps silent and catlike. I pinched the neck of the champagne bottle as well as the stems of the flutes in my other hand.

  I could feel the moisture in the air. Steam fogged the mirror over the vanity as the bathtub filled. It was nearly done now, the pale pink bubbles popping and rippling at the surface as it inched toward the rim. Nora leaned over and stopped the tap. The drops caught in the faucet continued to fall.

  Drip.

  Nora released my hand to slowly lift the hem of her shirt. She continued working it up, exposing her tummy, ribs, and white bra, until she pulled it over her head. Her braid, now dry, fell against her back. She drew it over her shoulder before undoing her jeans and wiggling her hips side to side as she leaned over and pulled them all the way down to her ankles.

  She stepped out of them and pushed her clothes across the tile floor with one foot.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  Drip.

  My shirt was half unbuttoned already. I finished the job, and Nora’s eyes focused on my shoulders and chest as I shrugged out of the shirt. She swallowed.

  Whatever effect she had on me seemed the same as the one I had on her. Looking at her made my artist’s mind reel with infinite possibilities of how I would paint her if time slowed down and I had the chance to press paintbrush to canvas. Part of me wondered if it would even be possible. Would I be able to capture her beauty in paint, or would the piece pale in comparison to the real thing?

  The latter seemed most likely.

  I also doubted we’d be able to commit to the amount of time required to finish a piece. If she was naked, draped over a piece of furniture, looking at me out of the corner of her eye while I painted the curved strokes of her hips or the swell of her breasts, I doubted I’d be able to see it through. I’d go to her, kiss her, press her legs apart, and take what I wanted—while giving what she deserved.

  My jeans joined hers on the floor.

  Drip.

  Neither of us moved. We stayed there about five feet apart, soaking in the sight of each other’s nearly naked bodies.

  The bathroom lighting was dim. Nora had only turned on the light in the rain shower, which reflected off the glossy black tile walls and bounced reflections around the bathroom. The corners were dark, and more light refracted off the mirror, creating a storm of shadows over the ceiling and Nora’s fair skin. Half of her was dark, turned slightly to the side, hidden as if wearing a dark cloak.

  The sight of her in this moment was worth remembering. If I’d been in front of an easel with a canvas and a piece of charcoal, I’d have been committing her to exist on the flat plane just as she was now.

  Perfect.

  The corner of Nora’s mouth facing the light twitched. “I’m waiting for you to drop the boxers.”

  I raised the bottle of champagne and flutes. “Should we pour first?”

  Drip.

  Nora pinched her bottom lip between her teeth and watched as I set the flutes down on the vanity counter and angled the cork on the bottle toward the shower. I pushed up with my thumbs until it popped. The sound echoed around us. Nora yelped delightedly and covered her mouth with both hands as I poured foaming bubbles into the flutes.

  I handed one to her. “To a night neither of us will likely forget.”

  We’d toasted to each other at least three times this evening but it didn’t feel tired or old. I could have toasted to this woman a thousand times over and never run out of things to say.

  Nora sipped her champagne. Her eyes flicked down to my boxers. “I’m still waiting.”

  Drip.

  Chuckling, I stripped out of the boxers, bunched them up, and tossed them across the bathroom.

  “That’s better.” Nora shimmied out of her panties and unclipped her bra. She slid it off and let it dangle from the tips of her fingers.

  Drip.

  I rushed forward and gathered her up in my arms. She giggled and the bra fell to the floor as I spun her around and held her over the tub. She clasped her arms behind my neck and stole several sweet kisses before I let her legs fall and lowered her into the tub. She stood in the water while the pink bubbles popped around her kneecaps, and waited for me to step over the side. Once we were both in, we sat on opposite sides facing each other. The bubbles came up to her collarbones and my chest.

  She let out a dreamy sigh and settled against the rim to rest her neck there. The end of her braid turned several shades darker as it got wet.

  Another drop fell from the faucet but it hit my knee instead of the water. It was cold and sharp, a contrast to the hot water and pleasant champagne bubbling on my tongue as I took a sip.

  Nora set her glass down on the wooden table beside the tub. She shifted so she was sitting on her knees, and the bubbles teased me by clinging to her breasts, hiding her nipples.

  I set my glass down, too.

  She settled between my legs, still on her knees, and pressed a warm, champagne-flavored kiss to my lips. I cupped her cheek and held her there. Her lips parted and her tongue slipped between my teeth. Under the water, her hand slid up my thigh until she found what she was looking for.

  Her lips curled in a smile as she gripped me gently. “We didn’t bring a condom in here.”

  Shit.

  “My pants,” was all I managed to say. The condom was in the pocket. I could hardly think straight with her hand stroking me up and down, her lips lingering at my jaw and throat as she teased me.

  She released me and leaned over the side of the tub. Water dripped from her elbow and fingertips as she strained to reach my pants lying on the floor. Giggling, she told me to hold her legs so she didn’t fall out of the tub. I wrapped one arm around her knees and she was able to reach forward a few more inches.

  She caught hold of the end of one of my pantlegs and began pulling them closer.

  Meanwhile, I ran my free hand up the back of her leg and slipped it between her thighs just below her ass. She stiffened but only for a moment. Her muscles softened when my fingers found her pussy. Even though we were in the water, she was still slippery and wet with her own juices.

  She fumbled with the pants as I pressed a finger inside her.

  “Walker.” My name fell from her lips in a sigh.

  Pleasure rippled through me at the sound.

  I gave her another finger. Nora whimpered and moaned but still struggled to find the condom in my pockets. She was tight around my digits. Her pussy constricted around me as I pressed up toward her G-spot, searching for that same place that had made
her nearly lose her damn mind the last time.

  She finally found the condom.

  I released my hold on her legs and pulled her back in, my fingers still buried inside her. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub. She slid onto my lap, cupped my face in her hands, and kissed me deeply. I moved my fingers in come-hither motions, teasing her, daring her to break. She rolled her hips in my lap and reached underwater once more to work me over while I fucked her with my fingers.

  Nora’s kiss grew more desperate. She nipped at my lips and rocked against me. I cupped her breast and flicked my thumb over her nipple. She flinched, giggled, sighed, and melted farther into the water like she was part of it.

  “I want to feel you inside of me,” she whispered with her cheek pressed against mine. “Right. Now.”

  I wasn’t one to tell a woman no. Especially this woman. My woman.

  I took the condom from her, tore it open with my teeth, and let her slide off my lap to settle on her knees in front of me. I went to my knees so my hips were out of the water, and rolled the condom on. She watched, seemingly transfixed by every move I made, and licked her lips.

  I liked the power I held over her when it came to pleasure.

  “Turn around,” I told her.

  Nora turned. I moved up behind her, wrapped an arm around her chest, and held her against me. Her shoulder blades pressed against my chest and I placed a hand under her chin to tilt her head back so she rested it upon my shoulder. She gazed up at me, eyes heavy with pleasure and liquor, and blinked slowly.

  I pressed my hips forward.

  My cock slid between her thighs. She spread her legs a little farther. I arched my hips upward, searching for her, and she grew impatient, reached down, and guided me inside her.

  I groaned as I slid deep inside her pussy.

  Nora’s eyes fluttered closed. She sighed breathlessly as I filled her up. I held her firmly against me, reminding her who was in charge, and held her chin in one hand to turn her face to mine to steal kisses as I pressed in farther.

  Much farther than the last time.

  She arched her back, sat lower on her heels, and took all of me.

  I tightened my grip on her chin and broke our kiss. “Good girl.”

  Nora practically purred in my hands. “Harder.”

  “Patience.”

  She moaned.

  The truth of the matter was I felt like I was going to blow any second and I didn’t want this to be over and done before I pushed her over the edge. I needed to buy myself more time, so I slowed things down, reached around her hip, and rubbed her clit as I fucked her.

  Nora was completely at my mercy and she knew it.

  She also loved it.

  As the minutes passed, she grew more breathless and needy. She wanted more—craved it like I craved the sound of her orgasm and the way she would tighten around me. I picked up the pace but only slightly, and it was enough to elicit moans from her that she couldn’t contain.

  Right when I knew she was about to come undone, I pushed her forward over the edge of the tub. Nora braced herself, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge, and I grabbed her hips and bucked hard against her. The water sloshed all over the place.

  Her back arched. The indent of her spine and the two dimples in her lower back stood at attention. She bowed her head and shrieked into the tub as she came.

  Her pussy tightened gloriously around me.

  I growled as my climax mounted. Nora shuddered in my hands. Just as her muscles began to relax, I gave in and let loose. She begged me to come for her and watched me over her shoulder with lust-filled eyes.

  I doubted our evening would end here.

  Chapter 25

  Nora

  The common areas of the Tiger House were infinitely more impressive than the staterooms, which had received makeovers that made them feel a little more modern and fresh than the rest of the house. The walls, ceilings, and floors were rich, dark-stained woods. Grand archways with hand-carved patterns invited us from one room to the next, from library to sitting room to dining room.

  Walker and I stepped into the dining room on Saturday morning. Other guests were gathered at the long table enjoying a fully served breakfast. It came included with our room. Two waiters in white coats slipped between guests to top off coffee cups or lemon water. Silver trays of pastries were piled high in the middle of the table flanked by baskets of fresh fruit, bowls of granola, and individual yogurt cups. Menus rested on each seat and invited guests to select something at an additional cost. On that menu, one could find full breakfast platters complete with eggs, sausage, hash browns, and toast. Or if one was feeling fancy, there were pancakes or waffles available.

  Making a decision didn’t come easy to me that morning.

  My mind was still foggy and it wasn’t from the alcohol. Walker and I had stayed up well into the early hours of the morning making love.

  Or rather, having sex.

  I wasn’t sure if we were in that zone where I could refer to what happened last night as making love. Some of it sure felt that way. Other parts felt like a wild fuck-fest. I enjoyed every part equally.

  What I did not enjoy was how weak my legs felt this morning as I lowered myself into my chair, which Walker held out for me. He sat down beside me and we both thanked a waiter who popped up behind us in record time and poured us some coffee.

  Walker and I drank thankfully.

  I let my gaze roam over the food options on the table.

  Walker knew I was a tad out of sorts. He’d watched me getting ready this morning and asked if everything was okay, and I’d had to admit with very red cheeks that everything was more than okay. My body just hadn’t bounced back after last night, and neither had my brain.

  Who knew so many orgasms could leave a girl so dopey-headed?

  Walker, naturally, had made me regret telling him the truth because he’d practically pranced around our room like a proud pony talking about how good he was in bed. For once in my life, I didn’t have a snarky, playful remark to counter with.

  Because he was one hundred percent right.

  He was the best I’d ever had. Hell, he was so good he’d made me forget there was anything before him.

  Walker put a hand on my lower back and leaned into me a little while the other couples spoke to each other about the weather, politics, and the charming B&B. “How about you start with a croissant and work your way up from there?”

  I nodded.

  Walker put a croissant on my plate, along with a small square of foil-wrapped butter he plucked from an ice dish. “Eat,” he said.

  Slowly, I ate. Meanwhile, Walker seemed to be making up for all those calories we burned last night. He helped himself to nearly everything in sight, and all the while, he was grinning around at the strangers sitting at the table with us, making friends.

  The man and his wife across from us asked if this was our first time here.

  I had a mouthful of fluffy, flaky, buttery pastry, so I turned to Walker to take the lead.

  He rose to the occasion. “We’ve never been before. In fact, neither of us have even been to Hudson. But we decided a spontaneous trip to get away from the city was much needed. We got in the car and started driving and made a reservation once we got here. We’d come back though, right, Nora?”

  With a hand over my mouth, I nodded eagerly.

  The husband, a man with salt and pepper hair and a moustache that suited him, inclined his head to his wife. “Deborah and I have been visiting annually since we were just kids, like the pair of you.”

  Walker chuckled. “It’s been a long time since someone called me a kid. I’m flattered.”

  Deborah, the man’s wife, patted the back of her husband’s hand. “Age has a way of making all young people look like kids. Isn’t that right, darling?”

  “She’s always reminding me we’re getting old,” her husband said.

  “Well, that’s never changed, has it?” Walker mused.

 
It took less than five minutes for the whole table, comprised of us and four other couples, to take interest in Walker and me. Truth be told, I doubted I had anything to do with their curiosity. They only had eyes for my handsome, smooth-talking, charismatic companion. I couldn’t blame them.

  He was all I had eyes for, too.

  Walker dazzled them with animated stories, talked about his work, and when conversation turned to our relationship, he was surprisingly humble and honest, telling the table that he and I were something new, but he hoped in time our status would shift to something more.

  I smiled down at the yogurt cup and small bowl of fruit Walker had put in front of me once I finished my croissant. I hoped the same thing.

  When the table found out he and I had only known each other for about two weeks they were shocked. Apparently, we came across as a couple who’d been together at least four or five months. It kind of felt that way to me, too. When I sat and thought about how little time Walker had actually been in my life it made my head spin. How was it possible that two weeks ago I didn’t even know him? Hadn’t felt the warm press of his hand on the small of my back? Hadn’t gazed into those marvelous blue eyes of his and forgotten everything else in the world?

  By nine o’clock, we had to leave the table and say our goodbyes so we could check out of our room and head back to the city. My parents would be arriving around noon or so, and I wanted to make sure we were home before they arrived. For starters, I wanted to put on some clothes my mother would approve of. Secondly, Grace would light me up for leaving her alone with my folks like a babysitter.

  Walker checked us out and indulged in a brief conversation with the owner of the B&B, who’d found out Walker was a well-known artist from New York. The owner wanted to discuss the possibility of purchasing some art for one or two of the staterooms. Walker handed over a business card and said they would speak during business hours this coming week. The owner, a slip of a woman with white hair and inquisitive green eyes, slipped the card in the pocket of her trousers, thanked us again, and wished us a safe drive home.