Sky High (Three Contemporary Novella's)

by Amanda Weaver

  But she didn’t have to trust him to enjoy having dinner with him, or even to sleep with him. As long as she was cautious, she was safe.

  They ordered dessert. Of course they did. It was some ridiculous rich concoction of chocolate and cream that Rita brought to their table personally, since the restaurant had begun emptying out. Rick came over for a bit, too, pouring them glasses of rich Tawny Port and telling stories about their last trip to Italy. Simon chatted easily about Europe with them and it was clear he’d been all over Italy, Greece, France, and half a dozen other European countries when he’d still lived in England. She’d been to all those airports, and several nice corporate hotels, but she’d never eaten at tiny Parisian bistros in far-flung neighborhoods off the tourist radar, or sampled wine straight from the cellar in a Spanish vineyard. She really needed to schedule a proper vacation soon.

  When the check came, she made a grab for it, fully intending to split it. That was what she always did. But Simon’s hand came down on hers, his fingers curling around her wrist and brushing against her pulse.

  “I’m buying.”

  “But—”

  “Cass, let’s just call this what it is.”

  She blinked at him, unbearably aware of his hand covering hers. God, could he feel the way her pulse was racing under his fingertips? “And what’s that?” she asked, her voice thick and quiet with nerves.

  “A date.”

  “This is a date?”

  He shrugged casually, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smile. His fingers slowly slid higher on her arm. “Yes, a date. We might not have set out to go on one today, but that seems to be where we’ve found ourselves. So let’s go with it.”

  “On a date.”

  His smile grew wider and he nodded once. He was positively caressing her arm now. “A date. Which means I’m buying.”

  She didn’t protest when he slid the check out of her reach. After tucking his credit card in the folder, he took her hand again, turning it over and skimming his thumb over her palm. Her breath caught in her throat. Such a tiny, insignificant touch and yet she felt it in so many places.

  “Since we’ve agreed that we’re now on a date, maybe you won’t mind me doing this,” he murmured, lifting her hand and pressing his lips against the pounding pulse in her wrist. He looked up at her, his lips still brushing her skin. “Okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “And this?” He kissed the center of her palm, slowly, deliberately, and she was fairly certain she felt his tongue flick out to taste her skin. She pressed her knees together as her nerves and muscles slowly melted. She wanted to climb into his lap, straddle him, push his shoulders back, grab him by that tie…

  “That’s okay, too.” Her voice had turned into a rasp.

  “You’ve got some chocolate on your finger,” he murmured, his breath washing across her palm. “Right here.”

  There was no errant spot of chocolate, but she said nothing as he drew the tip of her index finger into his mouth. She thought she might combust on the spot. It didn’t last long, just a whisper of his slick, warm mouth around her fingertip and then he let her go, sitting back and smiling with an expression that was nothing short of salacious. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

  “You have?”

  “Well, I’ve wanted to do a lot of things. But we’re in a public place. For now.”

  Good God, she wanted him so much. She didn’t care if Simon had dinner here with a different woman every night he was in town. Because tonight the woman was her. For tonight at least, no one else existed and real life didn’t matter. She’d have this night with an incredible, hot Englishman and she’d enjoy the hell out of whatever they decided to do together, and pretend there was no tomorrow.

  As they lingered by the door waiting for the bartender to drag their carry-ons out from the back room, Rita came out of the kitchen again to say goodbye with Ron. Rita kissed her cheek when they left and Ron made her promise to come back in the summer when the fresh tomatoes were in.

  There was a moment, when they first stepped outside, when Cassie was frozen with indecision. Maybe she should mention catching a cab, leaving him open to suggesting…more? But before she could, Simon gave her a small, secret smile and nudged her elbow.

  “My place is around the corner. Do you want to come up for a drink?”

  They stared at each other under the orange sodium glow of a streetlight. It felt like the whole of their dinner had been some kind of foreplay, knowing this still lay before them. There was really no doubt in her mind what she was about to do.

  “Sure. I’d like that.” He smiled, not charming, not bashful, not friendly. This one was all new, the smile of a man who knew what was coming next and was already savoring it.

  “I’m this way,” he said, indicating the direction with a nod of his head.” They wandered down Washington Street to the end of the block.

  “This is me.” He motioned to a glass door, framed with brushed aluminum. He was right, it was a stone’s throw from the restaurant. Through the door she glimpsed a small, hip lobby with an artfully weathered mirror on one wall and a bright red love seat under it.

  He unlocked the door and led her to the elevator, low lit and lined with mirrors. She watched their reflections as he punched the button for the fifth floor. They looked surprisingly good together, his patrician, blond handsomeness and her willowy, tall frame. He glanced up and met her eyes in the mirror.

  “Nice building,” she murmured.

  “I like it. You know…when I’m here.”

  The air in the little elevator felt so charged with potential that it might ignite. They’d talked so easily all day long and now words were sticking in her throat. Thankfully the trip was short.

  The building wasn’t one of the modern new skyscrapers popping up all over the neighborhood. It was a converted early 20th century warehouse and Simon’s apartment was on the top floor, one of two units. He unlocked the door and ushered her in, plucking the handle of her carry-on from her hand as she passed.

  “You can leave this here.”

  There was a light left on over the sink in the open plan kitchen, but the rest of the apartment was dark. Simon made no move to turn on more lights. He watched her in the gloom, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

  “What can I get you?”

  Did she want a drink? Not really. They both knew she didn’t come up here to sip another glass of expensive red wine. So she let the strap of her bag slide off her shoulder. It hit the floor with a thunk. His eyes flicked to it and then back to hers. He looked beautiful and sinful in the half light, like some kind of finely tailored fallen angel. It made her next move much easier. Or maybe it was easy because this—like everything else that had happened today—didn’t quite feel real. And if it wasn’t real, she could do anything, be anyone, be brave enough to make the first move.

  Her heels on the hardwood were the only sounds in the room as she moved towards him. When she reached him, she laid her palms flat on his chest and tilted her face up to his. He didn’t hesitate, as if he’d been planning to do this himself if she hadn’t done it first. He straightened and reached for her, grasping her face in his hands, and lowering his mouth to hers.

  Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that long, sensual dinner. Maybe it was this improbable day, ending in this magic moment. But this was like no first kiss she’d ever experienced. There was no tentative exploration, no slow start and gradual build. She didn’t hover slightly outside herself, debating her partner’s kissing technique. She didn’t worry about her own kissing technique, or anything else. They just kissed, thoroughly, deeply. It was a kiss born from hours of thinking about kissing, imagining the feel of the other person’s skin under yours.

  Her fingers found his hair, which she’d wanted to muss since she first saw him. It felt as good as it looked, perfectly soft and feathery. She ran her fingers through it and wrapped her arms behind his head, wanting to wrap her whole body around his.
Simon tilted her face and kissed her from a new angle, sweet and hot and perfect.

  When he finally released her face, his hands skimmed down the sides of her neck, her shoulders, her ribcage and waist. His arms came around her, enfolding her in his strong embrace, pulling her up to her tiptoes. His body was pressed against hers all the way down to her knees. It felt like a shocking intimacy after spending the day at a careful physical distance.

  His palm slid up between her shoulder blades, his splayed fingers practically spanning her back. Then he twisted his wrist, gathering the long fall of her hair and wrapping it gently around his hand. He tugged her head back as his lips left hers and skimmed down her arched throat. Parting his lips, he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to her neck, pausing to dip his tongue into the hollow at the base. A spear of desire shot through her, landing right between her thighs. She moaned.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  Cradling the back of her head, he lifted her mouth back to his. This kiss was different—hard, a little sloppy, a hint desperate, lips and tongue and teeth tangling with hers. Her hand traced the side of his face, the angle of his jaw, and her fingers tugged at the loosened knot of his tie. It was time to unwrap this beautifully tailored package and see what was inside.

  Simon raised his head, his eyes finding hers, just inches away. “Come to the bedroom?” Still a question, even after this long day, when sex seemed a foregone conclusion hours ago. He was still inviting, not expecting. She nodded. He leaned in and kissed her again, soft and light, then took her hand and led her through his darkened apartment. One wall was all windows, and the omnipresent New York City light pollution acted like a night light, outlining the shapes of his furniture, hinting at pictures on the walls, but concealing the details. She was a little curious, wondering what his apartment would look like, what he would choose to hang on his walls, but not enough to stop to look now.

  There were windows in his bedroom, too, giving off the same faint glow from the streets. Simon turned when he reached the middle of the room, taking both her hands in his. She expected him to pounce right away, to push her onto the bed and get on with it, but he didn’t. Still looking at her face, he ran his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and down to the first button on her blouse. Then he very deliberately began to unbutton it. Her breath left her in a whoosh. It was hard to hold still. She was used to this first disrobing happening in some groping tangle on the bed, no time or space to worry about her body and what he might think of it. Simon seemed to relish this, though, this slow revealing of her. And when she could stop worrying, being the object of such heated, single-minded attention was hot. Her whole body was tingling and he wasn’t even touching her. Button by button, he opened her blouse. When it hung loose, he reached up and slid it back over her shoulders and down her arms. She took a deep, quavering breath. His eyes watched her breasts rise and fall.

  “Stop over-thinking,” he said quietly. “You’re unbearably lovely.”

  She opened her mouth to ask how he knew what she was thinking, but then he cupped her breast in one hand and lowered his head, kissing the swell just above the edge of her bra. Her words were lost along with all her rational thoughts. His thumb rubbed her nipple through the lace and she shuddered. His free hand slipped behind her and deftly undid the clasp. He didn’t raise his head as her bra fell away, only replaced his thumb with his mouth. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as desire rocketed through her.

  His fingers found the zipper on her skirt, sliding it down, and then pushing the skirt down, too. When he finally straightened up, she was standing before him in panties and heels.

  “I like this,” he murmured, running a hand over her hip, tracing the black lace edging with one fingertip.

  “It works better when you’re naked, too.”

  He smiled widely in the near-darkness and spread his arms in invitation. She took a moment to summon her nerve. It wasn’t hard to find when he was standing before her all but begging her with his eyes to touch him. Reaching out, she finished what she’d started in the entry way with his tie, undoing its perfect knot and dragging it slowly out from underneath his shirt collar. The shirt buttons came next before she pushed his shirt back off his shoulders. He took care of his undershirt, reaching up behind his neck with one hand and pulling it off over his head in an effortlessly sexy move that made her mouth go dry. His lightly sculpted abs flexed as he moved and she couldn’t resist reaching out to trail her fingers over them. When his shirt was gone, her fingers continued upward, over his chest, scattered lightly with wiry blond hair. Simon watched her explore, a slight smile on his lips. When her fingers trailed back down and landed on his belt buckle, he sucked in a breath. She glanced up at him, eyebrow cocked. He bit his bottom lip and nodded.

  It had been a long time since she’d undressed a man with such focus. There was something unspeakably erotic in doing only that, not kissing, not groping or stroking. Nothing else to distract from the act, the intimacy of it. Just peeling away the layers to get to the man. Simon’s abdominal muscles contracted and he shuddered when she lowered his zipper and her fingers brushed against the hard ridge of him. His pants dropped to the floor. He toed out of his shoes before stepping free of them.

  “I think you should kiss me now,” she murmured.

  “I think I should do much more than kiss you.”

  His hands found her waist, his palms hot against her cool skin, then he dipped his head and kissed her again, slower, less desperate, but more focused. She didn’t think she’d ever been so aware of every aspect of a man’s kiss—the softness and texture of his lips, the perfect amount of pressure, the tease of his tongue, the hint of his teeth now and then. She was insanely aroused and he’d yet to touch anything but her breasts. Taking her hands, he backed towards the bed. Cassie stepped out of her heels and let him lead her. At the edge, he kissed her again, turning and lowering her, until she was lying across the dark duvet. His hand touched her hip, his fingers dipping under the edge of her panties in a silent question. She nodded and he slid them down her legs, his palms smoothing over her skin all the way down.

  Again, he didn’t do what she expected once he had her fully naked. He lowered himself to the bed, just next to her, not on her, and he kissed her—only kissed her. She was acutely aware of the cool air on every exposed inch of her skin, somehow all the more sensitive because he wasn’t touching her yet. She threaded her fingers into his hair, gripping slightly, encouraging him with her need, which was becoming a little desperate.

  Cupping her face with his palm, he bit slightly on her bottom lip. She moaned, her body pressing against his. His breath left him in a shaky exhale and he shifted over her, closer to where she wanted him. Just when she thought she might explode if he didn’t touch her, his hand began a slow descent down her body, stopping to explore everything on the way. He touched her in places she’d never thought of as particularly sensitive before, but because of his slow, determined exploration, each left her twisting with desire. His fingertips dragged in a line down her sternum, making her arch into him, then he traced the bottom edge of her ribcage, all the way up until he was cupping her breast. Later, after he’d thoroughly memorized the shape and feel of her with his hands, he moved down, his fingers running along the hollow between her hip and thigh and the crease along the back of her knee. By the time he slipped his hand between her legs, she was nearly there in an instant.

  “Simon,” she gasped.

  “Shhh.” He knew he’d worked her into a frenzy, and he kept her there, drawing it out until she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t tipped over the edge yet. It felt a breath away. She was shaking all over from it. He captured her mouth in a deep kiss, biting her lip gently before pulling away. “Hang on,” he murmured against her lips. He rolled away for a moment, fumbling in the drawer of the bedside table for a condom. She wished there was more light so she could see him do it. The glimpses of him she’d gotten in the dark while undressing him made her think she w
ouldn’t be disappointed.

  He rolled back over her and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear. “Ready?”

  “God, yes.”

  As he filled her, she felt a faint ache and an astonishing sense of completeness. He groaned in her ear, a low, animal sound completely at odds with his cool, urbane self. The sound drove her wild, and so did his urgent, powerful movements. Just like their first kiss, there was no first time fumbling, no figuring out what the other person liked. Simon seemed to know just what she wanted, and he had no problem taking what he wanted from her. She’d been nearly to the edge before he ever entered her and now it was bearing down on her with a fierce urgency. Cassie gripped his shoulders, her nails cutting in. She buried her face in his neck, gasping for breath, hanging on.

  His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. It was such a sweet, tender gesture, completely at odds with the way he was assaulting her body.

  “Come on, love,” he muttered. And that was all it took. One brief endearment and she was done, flying, falling, splintering completely apart. She was barely through it when he came, letting out a strangled groan. He collapsed down on her, kissing her shoulder and the side of her neck, breathing into the hollow under her hair. She brought a trembling hand up to stroke his hair away from his temple.

  “That was…” she began, when her voice returned.

  “Spectacular,” he finished for her. He rolled off of her and hauled himself upright just long enough to clean up and came back, curling himself around her, tucking her into his chest.

  They said nothing else for a long time. She kept playing with his hair, he kept stroking his palm over her shoulder and down to her hip. She flashed back to the morning, to yet another business flight to be endured, and couldn’t believe the day had ended like this.