She glared at him. “God, what is the matter with you?” she hissed.
He curled an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the car. “Not a thing, sweetheart, not a thing.”
* * * *
They drove away from the strip in a southerly direction. “So, Mr. Porter, where are you taking us for lunch?”
Mr. Porter, was it? Did she think she was going to turn this into a business lunch? Man, did she have a surprise coming. “It’s a very unique restaurant, just a—select clientele.”
“That sounds mysterious. It’s legal, right?”
“Are we back to the syndicate boss?” he asked. When she tightened her lips and raised one eyebrow, he thought he’d better leave it alone. “It will definitely be a new experience for both of us. You do like Japanese?” He hadn’t even thought to ask her, he was so preoccupied with the experience he was about to go through with her.
“As long as it didn’t meow or bark at one time, I’ll try anything once,” she quipped as they tore down the road.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Not even the Mercedes could get them to the restaurant fast enough.
* * * *
As Steven parked the car in the small parking lot, she peered at the Japanese temple rising through an expansive garden that lay before them. “Las Vegas has a way of blowing your mind. It can create just about anything out of the sand, can’t it?” She marveled at the Shangri-la they walked into. Small bridges and babbling brooks, bamboo water flutes and sprawling lawns with pebbled trails guided them toward the temple.
The door opened just before they reached it. A woman dressed in a beautiful kimono appeared and bowed deeply. “Mr. Porter, Ms. Viterra, please come in.”
She expected a lineup with sushi chefs whacking at eel parts and cucumber bits flying behind a bar, but instead they found themselves in a sparsely decorated lobby with serene Japanese architecture, the chi flowing freely.
“Please, follow me,” their hostess said, and shuffled down a wide hallway.
They passed several opaque glass doors as they wandered behind the gracious Madame Butterfly. She slid the door open at the very end of the hall and invited them to enter. A beautiful, tranquil room met her gaze. The walls, decorated with ornate designs of opal and pearl, soothed the eye. Beautiful silk sheets lay across large pillows in the middle of the floor.
Their hostess turned to them, holding two folded robes. She bowed, offering them. She looked up at Steven who smiled graciously. Madame Butterfly bowed again as she extended the delicate silk robe for her to take. She turned her palms up as their hostess laid it in her arms.
“Please, Mr. Porter, follow me. It will take a moment or two before she will be ready.”
“Ready?” she repeated, looking at Madame Butterfly, and then at Steven. “Ready for what?”
“Could we have a moment?” he said to the hostess.
She bowed and backed out of the room.
“Ready for what?” she said, her voice becoming dangerously low. “Are we getting a massage before lunch?” She looked around the sparsely decorated room. “And where is the table to eat on, or is it picnic style?” Pillows made of delicate silk covered the floor, but that was about it. An uncomfortable feeling tugged at her core.
“In this restaurant you share the meal a little more intimately. We will be the table,” he said simply, watching her carefully.
“Say what?” Losing her appetite, she backed up a step.
He closed the distance between them. “This place has a unique perspective on having a meal.” He slowly ran his hands down her arms, sending a small tremble through her. “It allows two people to capture each other’s energy, feeding each other in spirit by eating from the body. The food is prepared and…” He paused, considering something.
She didn’t like the burning look in his eyes. “And?” she said, her voice trembling.
“And my meal is presented on your body, and yours is presented on mine.”
She turned away from him, trying to center herself. “No, no way, not unless you’re thinking about using a fifty-foot-long chopstick.”
Even as she said it, lustful heat gathered in her belly with the idea of this man eating raw morsels of fish off her. The tingle turned into a hot flash thinking about his tongue licking sweet sauces from her skin. “If you want to eat off a beautiful body, you’ve come to the wrong place, Mr. Porter,” she said tersely.
Steven grasped her from behind, holding her gently and pulling her to his chest. “I know we’re both going to enjoy this.” He paused. “I don’t believe a woman responsible for a busy port would be anything other than bold and brave. I already know she’s beautiful.”
Their little hostess shuffled in and nodded, then stretched her arm out for Steven to follow her toward a private patio where a silk screen shielded the view from the room.
Five young geishas skittered into the room. Before she knew it, her clothes were gone, and the women flitted around her as she lay on the silk sheets. They arranged comfortable pillows under her head, and worked quickly to wrap her body in silk.
She looked at Madame Butterfly. “You’re not going to rub wasabi all over me, are you?” Moira’s eyes narrowed in warning at her. The girls giggled, and she laughed uncomfortably for a second, lying back with a groan caused by her own butterflies. This was nuts.
The girls returned carrying trays, and went to work. Within minutes, they had turned her into a body of art, painting beautifully colored symbols across her skin. Every type of sushi she’d ever seen, dotted her body in strategic spots. For extra decoration, pink and purple blossoms lay scattered for modesty.
Her nipples, now rock hard with nervous anticipation, had been covered by sashimi, not with flowers. She truly thought she was going to die. The door slid open from the patio. Music—barely audible—began. She prayed there wasn’t a little Japanese fellow strumming in the corner.
She couldn’t think—her stomach tied itself into a multitude of knots. “I’m not feeling any calming energy, Steven. In fact I think you should get a doggy bag,” she said nervously, closing her eyes because she simply couldn’t look at him.
Just then Madame Butterfly came in for a last inspection. “She is—beautiful?” she asked, nodding to Steven who stood just inside the room.
Moira opened one eye to see Madam Butterfly’s penciled eyebrows rise when there was no response.
* * * *
“No, she’s stunning,” Steven whispered. Her hair, her body, the silk sheets wrapped in perfect folds across her legs and stomach turned her body into a living piece of art. Blossoms, paint, and his lunch waited. He’d never been hungrier in his life. His heart pounded as he walked around to see her better. He nodded his appreciation to the Madame, who backed away quietly.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
He knelt down beside her. “Moira, open your eyes—please, I need to see you,” he commanded gently.
“I think you’re seeing enough of me,” she moaned. “I can’t look at you.”
“Why?”
She swallowed deeply. “I’ll know for sure if you’re even the littlest bit unhappy. Everything you feel is in your eyes,” she said. Her mouth opened to breathe in a little more air as if it would give her courage, but when she did, his lips were there to meet hers. Her eyes fluttered open as he backed away.
“I could look at you forever.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Look at me, Moira.”
She resisted, but his finger gently tilted her chin.
“That’s right.” His voice, low and sensual, soothed her. “Longing, desire, is that what you see? Because that’s what I feel when I look at you. God, I…”
His words lost their way, so he let his lips take over. Everything was different with Moira. He wanted her to trust him, want him. He’d never wanted that from a woman before. Being with her felt so natural, so easy.
His tongue wandered across the painted scrolls on her shoulder. It tasted
sweet, like her. “Dessert before dinner,” he murmured, his body flaming with desire. The taste of her skin mingled with the flavors of the painted symbols, tempting his senses. Her body shuddered as the tip of his tongue followed the curve of her breast. Small bowls of syrup and sashimi sauce sat by his knee. Slowly, he slid his finger through the dark, thick liquid, and let it drip across her right breast where a floret of fish lay, tempting him.
She closed her eyes when his tongue darted out to lap dangerously close to her hardened nipple. He taunted her, feeling her hips rise beneath his hand. He imagined the wetness growing between her thighs. Her body arched with every kiss, every lick of his tongue.
“Now, about our conversation this morning,” he said. “You’ve never what?” He kissed the sensitive areas of her stomach, letting his tongue flick across the tasteful artwork, working his way back to her full breasts. With a slow rhythm his tongue circled her nipple, driving him out of his mind.
She didn’t speak. Instead, a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips. Spurred on by her response, his mouth closed over the tip of her breast as his tongue scooped the fish from her peak, sucking on it, bringing it seductively into his mouth.
She tried to put her arm across her breast to hide her exposure, but he grasped her fingers, and gently pulled them away. “Now, sweet Moira, tell me your secret,” he commanded. She didn’t say anything, but her body spoke for her. His tongue travelled down to her belly button where another sweet treat waited.
As if she read his need, she reached to touch his thigh. Her fingers barely grazed his skin, sending shivers through his entire body. Would she touch him? His thick shaft hardened, the robe falling open around his erection. She couldn’t miss it.
He dipped his fingers once again into the sauce, letting it drizzle over the small roll covering her navel, licking it into his mouth. His tongue strayed but stopped just before her sweetest place. The gentle rise of her hips gave her away. “Tell me, Moira.” He blew his warm breath across the blossoms that hid her from his eyes.
“I can’t,” she choked out.
She squirmed when his breath skittered across her skin. His tongue wouldn’t accept that as an answer, and he followed a line of edamame pods balancing on her thigh, leading to her enticing fold. One by tantalizing one, he swept them into his mouth, greedy for what lay at the end. The last ones had been purposely placed to curve toward the seductive lips between her thighs. The slit of her sex, already glistened with her body’s moisture, made his erection jerk with need. He couldn’t help but moan with his own pleasure when his tongue slipped between her lips, lapping at her nub. Her entire body tensed. She was so wet. His finger joined in to pleasure her, and she cried out, almost sending the rest of the sushi flying.
“Steven, what are you doing to me?” she gasped out.
“You are so exquisite,” he said, as a streak of fire passed through his body.
His heart pounded hard in his chest. She wasn’t just wet, she dripped with need for him. He could drink her like a glass of water, and he did—thirsty for her. When his lips wrapped around her clit her body stiffened, and he backed away, sensing that she was going to climax. He didn’t want her to.
No, he wanted her to beg him. He wanted to see her need for him in her eyes. Her fingers danced around his thighs, but she never touched his erection, and it drove him crazy. He wanted her to reach for him, he wanted her to tell him to love her, but she didn’t. She fought him and her needs, but he couldn’t understand why. No woman refused him.
He backed away to look at the beautiful symbols that ran from one hip to the other. Taking his time, he licked them clean, feeling the sway of her hips. His fingers brushed against the small swell of her stomach, exotic and enticing. He continued to eat his lunch with a seduction that could have made front-page news. His eyes blazed across her curves to the one piece of delicious white flesh that he hadn’t touched.
“Steven—”
When he looked at her, he saw her entire body shudder and tense with blistering heat. One hand snaked gently across her skin to slide around her waist. His other joined in, and he pulled her toward him.
“God, you are so beautiful to me,” he said as his lips surrounded her breast and his tongue swirled around her breast to take the last piece.
She gasped, her eyes snapping shut. She triggered every desire inside of him, firing his needs into a fury. Her hands fell to the floor as he drew her to him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth to find her soft wetness.
She arched her body upward, pressing it against his moist chest as her lips responded to him. Wave after wave of heat struck him. It took all his will to stop from demanding she touch him.
When her breasts rubbed against his chest, he began to shake, making it hard for him to breathe. He wanted to take her so badly. If she touched his shaft just once, he would explode from the excruciating pressure. It was the first time in his life he hadn’t taken what he wanted, expected it and got it. But if he went one step further, she would tear herself away from him. He knew it.
When their lips parted, she tucked her head next to his, almost curling herself into his neck for protection. She didn’t wrap her arms around him. She kept her hands clenched in her lap. “I’m going to get dressed,” she whispered in his ear, “and wait in the car.”
“Moira—” He wrapped his hands around her cheeks. “I want you…” He paused, hearing his own words. He did. He actually wanted her, but more than that, he knew he needed her. “I want you to experience this, I want you to touch me.” If she didn’t want to be honest with her desires, he would at least be honest with his.
“I can’t, Steven.”
Her eyes filled with fear. He suddenly understood that she was terrified, and he had done this to her.
She tried to draw herself away. “I’m all right.”
He didn’t believe her. His lips found hers again, and his kiss possessed her, driving him mad, but hoping to allay her fears.
He opened his eyes when a single tear escape hers, and touched his cheek. His heart fell. “No, sweetheart, no.” He pulled her tight with the need to protect her, but it was him who she needed to be protected from. “Moira, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He held her and rocked her body. “Do you know what went through my mind today when your hand was slipping from mine on the cliff?” Her eyes closed and she shook her head. “That I was about to lose someone incredibly special. I didn’t know what fear was until that second, and I never want to feel it again.” His finger traced a path across her lips. “I didn’t know what beautiful was until you sat across from me last night, and I’ve been surrounded by it for years.”
“Doing what?” she asked, the curl of her lips already giving her away.
A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Nice try,” he said, brushing the bangs from her eyes. “I’ve had lots of offers to come to this place, but I never did, and I understand why now—I was waiting for you.” He looked deep into her soulful eyes. “Don’t be scared of me, Moira. I’m not a gangster. I’m not an escort for hire.” He shook his, confused by his own feelings. “I’m just a man who’s falling head over heels for a woman he’s just met.”
“I’m not scared.”
“That’s the granddaddy of all lies,” he murmured good-naturedly. His forehead touched hers, his concern growing. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”
“I’m painfully aware that my bare breasts are pressed against your chest. How I’m going to get out of this situation without dying of mortification I haven’t figured out yet.” She laid the palm of her hand along his clenched jaw. “Steven, I know who I am and what I’m not. I’m not beautiful. I don’t have any soft edges left.” Her brows pinched together as if she were in pain. “I work in a world of dominant men. I’m crass, and I swear like a sailor. I could probably drink you under the table. You’ve read me totally wrong.” She pulled away from him, trying to cover herself with her arm.
He gently stopped her again, push
ing her arm down and letting his thumb graze her nipple. The roughness of his finger against her peak filled him with need, and he knew it affected her when her lips parted.
“There are plenty of gorgeous women in Las Vegas that are your caliber,” she said weakly.
“You can’t hide from me. I see you, Moira. I want you, not them—you.” When her lips parted with his touch, it was the most sensual thing he’d ever seen in his life.
He wanted to be inside her so badly he could almost feel her wrapped around him. Gathering her in his arms, he held her tightly. He had to calm down.
His hands slipped to her fingers, feeling them clenched into tight little fists. Why was she fighting this? He backed away from her. It wasn’t just her hands that trembled. It was all of her. He raised her small hand to his lips, suddenly feeling terrible. “So I suppose what you’re telling me is that your lunch is to go?” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but he couldn’t force her to want him.
“I’m telling you, you don’t need me.”
Lifting her up, he gently pulled her body to his. Her breasts pressed against his stomach, and his shaft went rock hard again. She was wrong about that on so many levels. He did need her. “Not even twenty-four hours have passed and you think you know what I need?” His eyes drank in the small woman who fit so beautifully against him.
“No, but I know what you should want.” Her hand drifted absently across his abdomen. “I think your world is a little different from mine, wherever it is that you come from. I’m sea and storm, tug boats and deep seas. I take crap from the mariners when my staff screws up. I shoulder it and try to diffuse it.”
“I’m a lifetime of hard knocks and broken angles, and I can’t change who I am. I would love to be soft and feminine, but I never will be.” She stared up at him apologetically. “I can’t be something I’m not.” She bit her lip and smiled at him sadly. “I’m sorry.”
Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 9
