Very, very active, and she fed it regularly. With Tumblr, with toys, and with wild images of pleasure.
“That’s too bad then,” he said, and his voice was deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that had a rough edge. That edge in it sent goose bumps down her spine. Or maybe it was his words, the hint of possibility to them.
“Is it? Too bad?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, shifting her body language, one hundred percent aware that she was getting her flirt on.
“Not just too bad. It would be a travesty.”
She brought her hand to her heart, playing along. “How sad. I’d hate to be responsible for a disaster of that degree.”
“You could avert it, then,” he said dryly, arching an eyebrow, then taking another swallow of his drink. The sight of his lips on the glass had her mind galloping off to a naughty land, because those lips looked delicious. Soft and kissable, while the rest of him looked hard and strong. She liked the way his tie was loosened, and his jacket draped over his chair. A businessman in repose.
“I could, couldn’t I? If I were interested in avoiding such a sad turn of events.”
“Are you, though? Interested?” he asked.
Michelle was almost certain a butterfly had taken off in her belly because her stomach flipped, and it was primed to flop again. “I’m getting there,” she said playfully, enjoying the back and forth, the very fine layer of innuendo that lined this conversation like a cool evening mist after a hot day. She brought her glass to her lips and took another drink, hoping it would have the same effect on him that his sip had had on her.
“Excellent,” he said, giving her a quick, appreciative nod. “So . . . are you having a good evening?”
“I am, as a matter of fact. Productive day, energetic evening, perhaps a satisfying night overall,” she said, and he chuckled softly when she said satisfying.
“What would make your night satisfying?” he asked, his cool blue gaze pinned on her. Then he raked his eyes over her, and she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the possibility that he liked what he saw.
“I enjoy a satisfying conversation.” She threw down the gauntlet. He seemed a good sparring partner.
“Let’s satisfy you conversationally then,” he said, picking up the challenge easily. “Now, I could ask you what you do for a living, but everyone does that. I could ask what brings you to this hotel, but that’s also trite. Instead, why don’t we talk about something that people don’t usually discuss. For instance, what is your favorite body part?”
She burst into laugher at his out-of-left-field question and the completely deadpan manner he asked it in, but then quickly grabbed the baton of the conversation. “On me, I would have to say it’s my elbows. I have absolutely amazing elbows,” she said, crooking her arm and showing him her elbow.
“Wow. You’re right. Those are glorious elbows. Smooth and soft, and yet pointy, too. And they make the arm move.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, demonstrating playfully. “And my second choice would be my right butt cheek.”
“Not the left one?”
“Well, they both are pretty nice.”
He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I bet they’re spectacular,” he said, that sexy gravel of his voice sending a charge through her.
“And you?” she asked, as her skin heated up. “Your favorite body part?”
“I’ve always been told I have great ears. It’s weird, but women sometimes stop me on the street to comment on my ears,” he said, shaking his head in faux wonderment as she laughed again.
“They are really nicely shaped,” she said, pointing to his ears, then looking him in the eyes, before offering a true compliment, as he’d seemed to do for her. “But you have beautiful eyes.”
He flashed her a quick smile. “Thank you. So do you. And legs. And arms. And lips. And eyes. Okay, here’s another question,” he said, after he moved through the sweet litany of compliments, as if he wanted to give them but was careful to not be more forward until he knew if she wanted it.
“Wait,” she said. “You didn’t research interesting questions to ask women at bars, did you?”
“What if I did?”
“Did you?”
“No.” He held up his hands as if to say he was innocent.
“The favorite-body-part question just came naturally to you?”
“A lot of things come naturally to me,” he said, with a confidence in his voice that bordered on cocky. She kind of liked it. More than she thought she would. He leaned back in the bar stool, his whole demeanor assured and relaxed, as if nothing could throw him off his game. She was willing to bet he was in a profession that valued this sort of mindset. She was also pretty sure this was an ideal mindset for random bar chatter.
“All right, then. Let’s see how you do on the other side.”
“Turn the tables on me.”
“I will. Since we’re not talking about professions, how about this one? If you had an extra thirty minutes free in the day for fun, what would you do with it?”
“Shoot hoops,” he answered immediately. “You?”
“I’d spend more time on Tumblr,” she said, and left it up to him to figure out what she did there. When he gave her an approving nod as he downed more of his vodka, she knew he understood what Tumblr was good for.
“Perhaps we should go back to that pick-up line, then?”
“The one where I buy you a drink?” she asked, as a mischievous look flitted past his blue eyes. Damn, they were gorgeous eyes. A pure and light blue, like the crystal waters off Fiji.
“Or I could buy you a drink,” he offered, and this time the cool charm was gone, and his tone was direct. A direct line to her desire to spend more time with him, here at the bar.
There was a rustle of noise as the man grabbed his phone and his glass and stood up. Was he leaving? No, he moved a seat closer, and that brief few seconds of him standing gave Michelle the chance to look up, and admire his height. He had to be easily over six-feet tall. That height was a basic requirement for dating, she and her friend Sutton had joked. A man needed to be a “standard six” and then some, preferably.
He gestured to the stool next to her. “Is this seat taken?”
“When you sit down in it, it will be.”
“Then I will gladly make sure it’s taken, and that no one else can get it.” He smiled at her, and extended a hand. “I’m Jack. Just Jack.”
She shook his hand as he sat next to her. “Michelle with two Ls. I used to have one L in my name, but it always looked like it was spelled wrong, so I just decided to add the second L. Because I can.”
“Hell yeah, you can. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Michelle who now has two Ls. I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but you don’t seem like a woman who’s going to get offended easily. I noticed how hot you are when you walked into the hotel an hour ago.”
Hot. He’d called her hot. Not pretty. Not beautiful. But hot. She’d take hot. She’d happily take being called hot, because hot was what she felt when he said it. Hot all over. Bothered in all the right places.
“How hot?” she asked, eager for more of his compliments.
He leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a sexy whisper. “Fucking hot.”
She shut her eyes for the briefest of moments, letting the words flare through her body, igniting something inside of her that usually was only lit up from her fantasy life. But now she was feeling something in real life, from a real person, who seemed to have real interest.
“I believe we could make a nice mutual admiration society then, because I noticed the same of you. Also about an hour ago.”
He raised his glass and clinked it with hers. “To mutual admiration.”
“And to another drink, and I will buy. Because it looks like we’re ready for another one,” she said, glancing at her nearly empty glass.
“I’m ready for more,” he said, and brushed his hand against her shoulder. A fresh blast of sparks ra
ced through her body as he traced a soft line along her collarbone. The tiny touch that started on her neck spread through her, like a golden comet, leaving heat in its wake. In the span of time, his touch was a blink, but it held the promise of so much more.
“I’d be up for more,” she whispered.
“Much, much more,” he said slowly, seductively, that deep, sexy voice threading its way through her, settling down between her legs, turning her on to the point where she was picturing reaching for that wine-red tie, tugging him close, and learning how that stubbly goodness on his jaw would feel against her. And how much more he could raise the heat inside her body with a kiss.
She ordered but when the bartender returned with the drinks and she reached for her purse, Jack placed a hand on top of hers. Firmly. “I was only joking about you paying.”
“What if I want to pay?”
“I’m not going to let you pay, Michelle,” he said in a determined tone, his bright blue eyes fixed on her.
She swallowed, looked down at his hand covering hers, and already her imagination revved into hyper-drive. Long, strong fingers. Big hands. Holding her down. Pinning her.
He seemed to sense where her mind had gone, or maybe he just felt the tension radiate from her body, because he didn’t move away as he paid for the drinks. Before she knew it, his fingers were laced through hers, and he was holding her hand at the bar.
She’d never known holding hands would feel so erotic, but with the charge in the air between them, this was no kids’ play. It was almost like . . . foreplay. Then, it most decidedly became the start of something when he stroked his thumb over her palm, tracing lazy circles on her skin, a promise of what he might be able to do with those hands. She nearly combusted from the spark he’d set off inside her body, like a fireworks twirler lit up and racing.
She shut her eyes briefly, breathed out, her body betraying her. There was no hiding the lust she felt radiating in the air. It was like heat in the desert, shimmering on the horizon. Undeniable.
He was a stranger who wasn’t quite a stranger, and he was the only thing she was thinking about right now. Her mind was one hundred percent here, and nowhere near her past, nowhere close to anyone else, not lingering whatsoever on the man she had thought she loved for years. Nope. She was present, only present, and she enjoyed this moment so much that she hoped it lasted and knit itself into the rest of the evening.
Into sex with a stranger.
Because that was some of the best sex there ever was. No holds barred, no past, no future, no emotions or history to cloud the moment.
She knew what she wanted tonight. A night with him.
CHAPTER THREE
Wet Kisses
He was no virgin. He was no saint.
He’d had a quiet year by choice. Guilt had clawed at him, and though he’d had plenty of chances, and plenty of attempted set-ups from women in his office who wanted to introduce him to their sisters, or their best friends, or their cousins, Jack had kept his nose to the ground and his pants zipped. He was a mess in the head, and a fuck-up in the heart, and that had kept him out of the bedroom.
A self-imposed monkhood, his sister had called it.
But hell, he wasn’t thinking of his sister right now.
He was thinking how much he’d like that dry spell to end tonight. Maybe even in the next hour. Because this woman was everything he wanted—sharp, clever, playful and hot as fuck in that blouse and skirt. She had the perfect body for that businesswoman look she had going on, with the skirt down to her knees that made him think of her in a boardroom, crossing her strong, sexy legs as she sat at the head of the table. She probably ran her own business, and that made her even sexier. He was drawn to the kind of confidence that a high-powered woman possessed. And he particularly liked that this high-powered woman had no clue he ran Joy Delivered, because that meant she was actually interested in the guy she’d met tonight, and not the label that sometimes lured others. With the years he’d spent in the military after college as an army intelligence officer before founding this company, he’d been labeled by the press as the Soldier-Turned-Sex-Toy-Mogul. It wasn’t the sort of a title that could be bestowed very often, but it was part and parcel of who he was. Though it didn’t bother him one bit, he also didn’t mind not being that person tonight, along with the baggage attached. He could be himself again. Not a man with a past tethered to him, or a sandwich board slung on his chest.
And so the last half hour with Michelle with two Ls he’d been precisely that—himself. They’d polished off another round of drinks and he’d held her hand, touching her in a way he hoped was driving her wild, and enticing her as much as her sexy librarian look and smart conversation was luring him in. The business meeting with Henry and the councilman was in the rearview mirror; he no longer had politics or problems on his mind. He and Michelle had talked about baseball, and beaches they wanted to visit, and Jack had even admitted that he had a buddy who’d made it his mission to have unusual questions at the ready, should he meet an interesting woman. Michelle didn’t seem bothered that he’d borrowed his friend’s body part question.
“I like that you just confessed. It makes you seem like you’re not just a smooth and polished James Bond lookalike, all dashing and debonair and able to fire off witty questions like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“James Bond,” he said, running his fingers down his tie. “I’ll happily take that comparison. Dashing and debonair, too—I like that as well.”
“Well, you are all of the above. So, Just Jack, what exactly is it that you just do?”
Uh-oh. The conversation he didn’t want to have. “What do you think I do?” he fired back, hoping to deflect.
“Obviously something that requires you to wear a tie, so unless you’re a gigolo,” she said, and that drew a deep laugh from inside his chest, “I’m going with businessman, and you were here tonight working on a deal.”
He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Businessman. He could work with that.
“You are very good at putting clues together.”
“That’s kind of my job.”
“Are you a detective?”
She shook her head and laughed. “Nope. But some days it can feel that way.”
“So is this when I ask you what you do? Even though we’re supposed to talk about far more interesting things?”
“But, see, I find what people do interesting and it says something about who they are,” she said, her brown eyes hooked on him, her gaze confident and alluring.
“Then I’ll tell you what I do, because I don’t want you to walk away and say you didn’t know anything about who I was,” he said, figuring he could give her something without telling her everything. “I am a businessman. I sell things—usually online, sometimes in stores—that make people feel better.”
“What sort of things?”
“Toys.”
She laughed. “Toys,” she said, amusement in her tone. “That is so damn cute.”
“Cute. Not exactly what I want a gorgeous woman to call me.”
“What do you want a gorgeous woman to call you?”
“Oh, God, at the top of her lungs,” he said, watching her breath hitch with his words.
“You are naughty, Mr. Toy Salesman,” she said, arching an eyebrow playfully. Fine, she thought he was a toy salesman. He didn’t need to disabuse her of that notion. He did sell toys, but tonight, he didn’t plan to use any because he was going to show her that this toy salesman wasn’t dependent on his products. He could use the tools he came with. Tools to make her come, again and again. Before he could respond, she spoke again. “So you want me to call you Oh, God, Jack,” she said, her mouth falling open, her breath coming fast as she imitated an orgasmic cry.
Like a shot of adrenaline to his groin. He shifted in the chair, sure she could see his erection, and equally sure he didn’t mind her knowing he was rock-hard for her. “As long as you’re looking at me like that, you can call me anything you want,
” he said, watching her reaction as she pressed her lips together as if she were holding back. He didn’t want her to hold back. He wanted her to let go.
“Well, Oh, God, Jack, we’re in the same field. I also help people feel better.”
She took another drink, and that seemed to be the end to the obligatory “what do you do” conversation. He was glad it was out of the way, that it had been handled without lies, and that they could move on to more interesting topics. He segued into something he’d wanted to ask all night. “Any chance you’d let me make you feel better, Michelle?”
“What makes you think I feel bad?” she countered.
“Nothing. But I think I could make you feel a little bit better if, say, I did this,” he said, then brushed a loose strand of her hair away from her shoulder, and leaned in. It took five seconds for him to bend closer, and the air was charged, heated with possibility. Then he pressed his lips to her neck, barely there, brushing her soft, sweet skin that tasted faintly of honey and vanilla, something entirely alluring that made him both want to kiss her and rip her clothes off at the same time. A feminine scent, but a thoroughly suggestive one, too, that hinted at the way she might taste all over. “Mmm,” he murmured against her skin, then pulled back to assess her response. The hazy look in her eyes told him all he needed. More. She wanted more.
She breathed out hard through pursed lips. “You know, I think, um, this spot,” she said, tapping her neck on the other side, “might need to feel better too.”
“I have a treatment plan for that,” he said, leaning in close to kiss her neck. He groaned faintly, heat rising in his body because she tasted so good. The scent of her was beyond arousing, and he wanted to know how she tasted everywhere. Her hair, the back of her neck, her belly, her legs, between them . . . he wanted his mouth all over her.
“What about here?” he asked, brushing a fingertip across her bottom lip, watching her hitch in a breath. That quick gasp signaled that she was losing control, and that was how he wanted her to be. Lost in him.
The Seductive Nights Novellas Page 6
