A Seductive Kiss

by Francis Ray

  He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I wanted our first time to be special and memorable.”

  Excitement rushed through her. She shivered.

  Alex straightened. He stepped away and hit the light switch. Light flooded the room. Frowning, she whirled on him.

  “The evening is still young,” he said casually. “What would you like to do?”

  He was giving her a choice. She walked over and flipped off the light. “I want to make love with you. I was nervous because I might disappoint you.”

  “Honey.” He said the word with reverence, then took her gently into his arms. “Never. I told you that you are a fantasy that I never allowed myself to believe would be mine.”

  “I don’t want it to turn into a nightmare,” she said, trying to sound teasing and failing miserably.

  “I had planned for us to wait, but I think it’s best I show you just how much you mean to me.” His head bent, his mouth gently settled over hers, letting the heat and need grow. Molding his mouth to hers, he let his tongue lazily lap against hers.

  Dianne felt her breath leave her as she sank deeper into the kiss, letting the rising sensation push away her fear, replacing it with a flickering flame of desire that grew as his hand worked its way beneath her jacket and brushed against her bare skin. Her hands clutched his arms, felt the muscles bunch.

  “Your skin is like the softest velvet,” he murmured as he ran a thumb over her tight nipple.

  Heat and need spiraled through her. She wanted to touch him as well.

  Her fingers quickly unbuttoned his shirt. By the time she was finished he had his jacket off, his belt unbuckled. She pressed her hands against the muscled warmth of him, then her lips, and felt him jerk.

  Her head came up. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly, but his breathing had altered. She’d done that. “I’m not scared anymore.”

  “You may have saved my sanity.” He laughed.

  She laughed with him, feeling freer than she ever thought possible, and it was all due to the man standing before her. “This feels so right.”

  “Honey,” he said, his mouth finding hers. This time there was nothing gentle about the kiss; it was bold and daring and demanding.

  Dianne felt her jacket leave her arms, felt desire rise as he clamped his arm around her waist, drawing her against him. He bent her backward, his mouth fastening to her aching nipple. Air hissed though her teeth. She felt the sucking sensation deep inside her. Moaning, she clutched his head to her.

  His head lifted. His breathing ragged. This time she could see his eyes. They were dark with desire and an inner fire that called to her. “Alex.”

  Sweeping her up in his arms, he went to the bedroom at a quick clip when he wanted to run, would have if there had been more light. He had never wanted, needed like this. He’d always known it would be different with Dianne; he just hadn’t known how much. He wasn’t even inside her body, but just the thought had him teetering on the edge.

  Stepping into the bedroom, he heard her sigh his name. He tried to see it though her eyes—the soft glow of candles on the dresser and night chest. A huge bouquet of roses and gardenia blossoms on a table. A bottle of Perrier-Jouët chilling in an automatic champagne server. The covers of his bed pulled back with white rose petals sprinkled on top.

  He felt dampness against his chest, and quickly set her to her feet to stare at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Better than I ever thought possible.” She sniffed. Circling his waist, she leaned against him and gazed around the room. “This took thought and planning.”

  He tilted her chin upward to stare into her teary eyes. The flowers had been delivered before he went to pick her up. He’d personally sprinkled the rose petals. He wished the candles were real instead of battery-operated and on timers. One day they would be.

  “There’s more, but for now…” He kissed her, tasting the sensual sweetness and passion that was uniquely hers. Lifting his head, he picked her up and went down on the bed with her. The scent of the roses wafted around them. With their faces inches apart, their hands locked, their breath mingling, he wanted to tell her he loved her, but realized that would have to wait. She wasn’t ready to believe him. She’d think he was caught up in the moment. He could show her, though.

  Straddling her, he unclasped her bra, then stared in reverence. “You’re exquisitely beautiful.” He tasted her skin, curled his tongue around her nipple. Moving lower, he unfastened her skirt and, standing, tugged it from her body.

  His throat dried. His heart raced on seeing the first hint of her lace panties. Mercy. His hands trembled so much he had to grit his teeth to have enough composure to pull her skirt from her body. Finished, he gazed at her, beautiful and exquisite and his.

  Quickly he finished undressing and crawled back on the bed over her. “You’re all that I desire,” he breathed, then began raining kisses over her body. His hand worshiped her until she was twisting restlessly beneath him.

  Quickly sheathing himself, he slid his hands beneath her hips and entered her. The fit was tight, exquisite. He felt the resistance of her body, reached between them and found the sensitive nub and flicked his thumb again and again. He flexed his hips, going deeper. His mouth clamped on hers as he bought them together again and again.

  It was almost too much. She hadn’t known desire could take you under so fast, so completely. All she could do was hold on, revel in the power and the passion of the man loving her so completely that tears stung her eyes. She felt something coil tight inside her, tried to pull back. He wouldn’t let her. He surged forward, faster, deeper, stroking, compelling her to let go of the control she’d always prized.

  This time when the coiling sensation began deep inside her, she reached for it, embraced it. The orgasm tore through her. She locked her arms around his damp back, her legs tightening around the hips pumping into her, and held him tightly. His arms were even tighter around her, holding her as he reached his own pleasure.

  As she came down, one word came to her. “Bliss.”

  “Bliss,” he repeated, nuzzling his cheek against hers before rolling and taking her with him. His hand threaded though her hair. He smiled.

  “What?”

  “I dreamed of your hair on my pillow,” he said.

  Leaning up, she climbed on top of him. “I’ve had a few dreams myself.”

  “Keep that thought.” Gathering her tenderly in his arms he started for the bathroom. “You need some time in the Jacuzzi, and since I don’t want to be away from you, we’ll go in together.”

  Happier than she ever thought possible, she leaned into him as he turned the faucets on and water gushed into the Jacuzzi. “Taking care of me?”

  Shutting off the water, he kissed her on the forehead. Then with her in his arms he stepped into the swirling water. “Always.”

  * * *

  She was driving him slowly out of his mind, and he was enjoying every second. They’d no more than returned to his bed than she had pushed him down on his back and began to kiss and nip her way over his body. When she’d taken him inside her, he’d had to grit his teeth and grip her slim waist to maintain control.

  Then she’d started to move, and he’d lost it. Pleasure swamped him. His body deep inside hers, she rode him, satisfied him. He watched the intense pleasure on her face, felt a wild exhilaration that he had put the look there.

  She was shameless and reveled in it. Her hands on his muscled chest, her eyes half closed, her head thrown back, she met his demands and made demands of her own. Pleasure and need drove her. She wanted to give back to him as he’d given to her.

  He quickened the pace. This time she knew what would happen. Her body tightened, her hands fisted. His hands held her as he reached his satisfaction at the same time.

  Deliciously sated and tired, she lay on top of him, content and happy. “I never imagined it could be this good.”

  He turned her face to his. “Neither did I.”

  Smiling, aware of the gift he
had just given her, she felt her heart stumble. Please, don’t make me fall in love with you, her mind whispered, but she wondered if it was already too late.

  * * *

  “Wake up, beautiful.” With a breakfast tray, dressed only in pajama bottoms, Alex approached his bed a little after ten Sunday morning. “Breakfast is here.”

  Dianne lifted her head from the pillow, blinked, then smiled. His heart knocked against his ribs. She got to him, and always would. With her hair tousled, her skin glowing, she was gorgeous and tempting. When she sat up, the sheet slid down over the creamy breasts he’d taken great pleasure in loving. His body immediately hardened.

  “Please pull the sheet up or this will be stone-cold before we eat,” he warned, his grip on the tray tightening.

  With a teasing smile, Dianne tugged the sheet back up and scooted against the headboard. “If you hadn’t looked so pleased with yourself, I might test your theory.”

  “Fact.” He placed the tray over her lap, gave her a hot wet washcloth for her hands, then climbed in beside her. He lifted the domed top. Beneath was a large platter with soft scrambled eggs, cinnamon toast, pan sausages, bacon, and a fruit cup.

  “Thank you.” She blessed the food, then reached for the cup of steaming black coffee. “Why didn’t you wake me to help?”

  “Not necessary. I had it delivered. Lunch and dinner will be delivered as well.” He reached for a slice of crisp bacon. “We’re going to spend a leisure day in bed.”

  She sipped her coffee. “Good, because there are a couple of things I was thinking about doing with you.”

  He grinned. “I’m your man.”

  Chapter 8

  Monday morning at 9:50 Dianne stepped out of the cab in front of the House of Harrington’s office building for her 10:00 AM appointment. In a lemon-yellow silk suit, understated gold jewelry, and five-inch Chanel leopard-print heels with matching clutch, she couldn’t help the smug, satisfied smile on her face. Her skin tingled. She could almost taste the last kiss Alex had given her before they’d left his apartment that morning.

  Inside the building, still smiling, she stepped into the crowded elevator and noted that someone had already pushed the button for the eighth and top floor where the executive offices were located. Her thoughts easily returned to Alex. She’d just spent the most fabulous weekend of her life with a man who’d fulfilled her every desire and fantasy. In bed and out, Alex was everything she could have wanted in a lover.

  He made her feel desirable, sensual. She now knew a little bit of the way Catherine felt with Luke—giddy with happiness and on top of the world.

  But Catherine and Luke had forever. She and Alex just had tonight. Sadness hit her, but she shook it away. She’d known from the beginning that this wouldn’t last forever. They hadn’t discussed the future. When she left for Paris tomorrow, that might be the end of it. Her stomach knotted at the thought of never again being in Alex’s arms, or seeing him smile.

  No wonder Catherine and Luke, no matter what, never spent the night apart. It was too painful otherwise. Once she returned to Paris, her schedule would be hectic with fittings, photo shoots, and interviews. She wasn’t scheduled to return to New York until Fashion Week in September—three long months away.

  “Excuse me.”

  Startled out of her musing, Dianne stepped aside, then followed the young woman who had spoken to her off the elevator. The first thing Dianne noticed was that the pictures of her grandparents, and then her grandfather, standing with the designers or models depicting the evolution of fashion at Harrington, were gone from the freshly painted wall. Anger hit her.

  If the new CEO thought he could erase her grandparents’ influence and memory, he’d thought wrong. Her parents had been in a couple of those pictures. They both liked being in the spotlight. Dianne was sure they’d insist their pictures be rehung. She didn’t think they’d ask for those of her to be put back. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her grandfather’s memory and legacy be preserved, just as he wanted.

  Dianne went to the receptionist’s desk across from the elevator. “Dianne Harrington to see Mr. Boswell.”

  A redhead with her black roots and too much cleavage showing glanced up. She didn’t smile. “Good morning, Ms. Harrington. They’re in the boardroom,” the receptionist said. “Nancy will show you the way.”

  “Thank you,” Dianne said to the stony-faced receptionist, wondering what had happened to Thelma, the usual receptionist who always had a smile and stories of her grandchildren.

  “This way.”

  Although Dianne knew the way, she followed the young woman down the hall. Boswell probably wanted to show he was in charge again. The straight-backed unsmiling woman she followed was the woman from the elevator and another new face.

  Boswell had made noticeable changes in the New York office. Dianne’s stomach knotted with apprehension. She forced herself to relax. She had nothing to worry about. Her parents had a controlling interest in Harrington. As she’d told Alex, they valued money and the D line was selling well.

  Thinking of Alex again brought a smile to her face, and an embarrassing tightening of her nipples. It was a good thing she was walking slightly behind the other woman. Dianne promised herself that, as soon as the meeting was over, she’d call Alex and see if he could get off early. She wanted to spend every possible moment with him until her plane left for Paris tomorrow.

  “Here we are.” Stopping at a door in the middle of the hall, the woman knocked briefly then opened the door and stood to the side for Dianne to enter

  “Thank you.” Dianne’s smile warped into the World be damned confident runway look that said she owned the universe and everything in it. She stepped past the young woman.

  The first thing she noticed was there were only four people at the large table, which seated twelve. The second thing was that her parents didn’t even look up from studying the contents of the open blue binder in front of them. The third and most daunting fact was that the new CEO wore the same be damned look.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  Her parents, elegant and remote, finally glanced up. They didn’t return her smile. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  “Hello, dear.”

  The muscles in Dianne’s stomach tightened. Her parents were in their on-camera mode. When that happened, she always got the shaft.

  “Good morning, Ms. Harrington, I’m Ms. Hill,” said the tall, slim middle-aged brunette sitting beside the remaining person in the room. “Mr. Boswell, the CEO.”

  “Ms. Harrington, please have a seat,” Boswell said with as much warmth as an icicle. Dressed in a tailored blue suit, he appeared to be in his midsixties, with salt-and-pepper hair, a strong, angular face, and eyes that revealed nothing. He didn’t bother to stand.

  This isn’t good. She looked at her parents for reassurance, and received none. They were perfectly groomed in the latest fashion, elegant and gorgeous and as self-centered as they came. They made a good pair.

  Dianne remembered how scared she’d been at her first runway show. Her grandfather hadn’t been able to soothe her. A few of the seasoned models tried to help, but nothing could calm her—until her grandfather handed her the phone. It had been Alex, wishing her luck. While she was talking to him, she’d received a huge bouquet of white roses and gardenia blossoms.

  She thought of the rose petals on the bed Saturday night and floating in the tub last night. She’d held her head high after she’d gotten off the phone with Alex before that first runway show, stopped looking at her feet and pranced. She did the same now, taking a seat opposite her parents, tilting her sunshades up on her head. And waited.

  Boswell nodded to the blue binder in front of her. It had HOUSE OF HARRINGTON ANNUAL REPORT stamped on the front. “Please open it and turn to page twenty-six.”

  Ordering her hands not to tremble, she did as he asked. Dreading what she’d find, she slowly turned the pages. Her grandfather had taught her how to read the report. He wanted at lea
st one member of the Harrington family to always control the company and know how to run it. He’d given up hoping that it would be his only child and son.

  Her eyes zeroed in on the final numbers. She sagged in relief. Harrington House continued to make a profit even in difficult times. She glanced up with a smile. No one smiled back. “We’re making a profit.”

  “Do you know how many people Harrington employs?” Boswell asked, leaning forward to put his arms on the table. He wore Tom Ford.

  “Two hundred and seventy-five when Granddad ran the company,” she said promptly, and watched surprise flicker across his face. Then it was gone.

  “Each of those people expects a paycheck,” he told her.

  “And they get one,” Dianne snapped. “Granddad took care of his employees. They were more than numbers, they were the heart and soul of Harrington House. He understood that he couldn’t do everything, that he needed people who cared about Harrington and took pride in their jobs. My granddad was respected and loved.”

  Boswell’s eyes, dark and cold, narrowed. He hadn’t liked that. Good.

  She could understand why her grandfather admitted to her that he regretted taking the company public to raise capital when she was no more than an infant. He hadn’t liked answering to people. When profits began to climb, he’d begun buying back shares until he owned 55 percent. He’d given 10 percent jointly to her parents before she was born.

  She and her grandfather had never talked about his remaining shares. He had talked of changing his will so the company would be in the hands of someone who cared, but he never had. No matter his intention or wishes, her grandfather had left his remaining 45 percent jointly to her parents.

  “Not enough,” Boswell finally said. “The board and shareholders want results and I intend to give it to them.”

  Dianne tensed. Her gaze flickered to her parents. She fully expected them to perk up at the mention of money. They looked down at the binders again. Odd. They’d never been interested in the annual reports. Their reading material consisted of fashion magazines for her mother and golf magazines for her father.