A Deceptive Attraction: The Wilsons, Book 3

by Alicia Roberts

  Violet cried out with pleasure and pushed her breast upward into his hungry mouth. As he kissed and pleasured her right breast, Leon tugged her left bra strap down around her arm and released the left one. Instantly his mouth was on it, equaling the attention he had just given the other one.

  Violet felt Leon’s hard organ digging into her bare belly through his trousers. Without warning, he stood up, unbuckled his leather belt, let his pants drop to the floor, and stepped out of them.

  Violet opened her eyes and gasped. He wore no underwear and hadn’t been for the entire day while he had been with her. He was fully erect and stood proudly in front of her, showing his desire for her with his hard flesh. His entire body was muscular and deep tan.

  Again, Leon bent over her on the bed, this time tugging at her panties. Violet willingly helped him as he stripped them down over her thighs and tossed them aside.

  Lying beside her, he gathered her into his arms and groaned as her skin made full length contact with his body. He pulled her against him more tightly, crushing her soft breasts against his hard chest and kissing her so hard that his face rasped her cheeks and lips like sandpaper. Violet felt him making small thrusting motions with his hips against her belly. The hot length of his erection burned against her skin.

  Gaining control of himself, Leon gazed longingly at Violet, and lightly trailed his fingertip down her nose, across her lips and chin, and down her neck. His finger’s journey continued between her breasts and down the length of her belly, slower and slower, until he arrived at her sex. His eyes met hers, asking her a silent question.

  With a rush of wetness and desire, Violet opened her thighs and gave herself to him, letting his finger caress and explore her soft parts with matchless intimacy. He kissed her deeply while he touched her and kindled the ecstasy between them. Violet felt a slow fire start to burn deep in her belly.

  Leon positioned himself on top of her and entered her. They both gasped out loud at the same time as they joined together as one and moved as one. Violet accepted his thrusts with pleasure at first, then with wild abandon, arching her back and heaving her hips up and down, lost in their dance of lovemaking.

  They climaxed together, their sighs mingling in each other’s ears, and fell back on the bed.

  Leon spoke first.

  “Was it good for you?”

  Violet tried to remember the last time a man had asked her that question. It was almost funny. She had been quite vocal in her pleasure just now, so her answer would seem obvious.

  And yet, Leon’s earnestness was completely sincere. He was looking expectantly into her eyes, and she understood that he would never be satisfied until he was certain she was satisfied.

  “It was wonderful,” she told him, smiling as she saw the look of relief on his face.

  Chapter 10

  Leon awoke with his hand cupping something smooth, warm, and round. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in New York City, in bed with a naked woman, and the shape beneath his hand was her bare bottom.

  It was the scent of lavender that finally lifted him to consciousness. Ever since he had first met Violet on the street in SoHo at six-thirty in the morning, that scent had left an indelible stamp on his senses and made him associate it with her.

  She stirred next to him. Even in the jumble of sleep, she was lovely, so perfect and so cool. Her blonde hair framed the serene features of her face. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him with those violet eyes, without a trace of shame or surprise.

  Leon felt a stab of desire in his loins and realized he was already fully aroused. Gathering Violet in his arms, he pulled her on top of him.

  She knew exactly what he wanted, and she gave it to him. As they coupled joyfully, Leon closed his eyes and gave himself over to the scent of lavender and the warmth of Violet’s body.

  Afterward she only stayed in his embrace for a few minutes before grabbing a robe and heading for bathroom. He heard the shower running and shook his head.

  When she emerged with a towel wrapped around her body, Leon rose from the bed and grasped her arm. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Violet said.

  “Nonsense. We need to have breakfast.” What was she thinking? He wanted to spend the entire day with her.

  Violet gave him a cryptic look. “I can’t take another day away from the shop. It’s not fair to Troyesha. And you told me yourself that you’re very busy this week.”

  “I did?” Leon was incredulous. He didn’t remember saying that.

  “Yes, you did.” Holding the towel around her nude body, she gave him an unhurried kiss on the cheek. He felt another stab of desire for her.

  “Call me at the shop,” she said and left his room to go to her own.

  “You have much too good a work ethic, Violet,” Leon called after her. “Are you sure you’re not French?”

  ***

  Violet’s cab dropped her off on Broadway in front of Daylily exactly at nine o’clock in the morning. It had been a struggle to leave the bed she had shared with Leon last night, especially with his big, muscular arm thrown carelessly across her waist and cupping her bottom in his hand. He was a good sleeper who knew how to give her room to breathe while staying close by and touching her throughout the night.

  Troyesha had come in early and was already busy at her sewing machine. She looked up as Violet entered and smiled. Her smile was so big and beautiful that Violet couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I’m sorry to leave you alone in the shop yesterday, Troy,” she said.

  “Never that mind that,” Troyesha said. “Dish, girl!”

  “Can I at least get a cup of coffee first?”

  “Oh, all right,” Troyesha allowed. She looked at Violet searchingly. “You’ve got that glow on. This is gonna be good.”

  The first tailoring customer of the day came in as Violet was coming out of the break room with her mug. She was going to need a lot of coffee today.

  “Well?” Troyesha said after the customer had left.

  “His name is Leon, you already know,” Violet said. “He lives in France but he works on Wall Street, and he’s staying in a huge suite in the hotel I had you send my bags to yesterday morning. He offered me my own private room after we had dinner the other night, and I took it, but I needed some clothes.”

  “Private room, huh?” Troyesha said. “Riiiiight.”

  “Well, I did sleep in it,” Violet said, pausing for effect. “Once.”

  “So what did you need clothes for?” Troyesha’s black eyes danced wickedly.

  “I couldn’t go around butt naked all day.”

  “Why not?” Troyesha laughed. “Never mind. Did you take him on the bus tour?”

  “I sure did. We had a wonderful time.” Violet decided not to mention Leon’s panic attack at the Top of the Rock. “After that we rode the Staten Island Ferry at sunset and had dinner in Little Italy.”

  “Really? Where?”

  Violet shrugged. “Oh, someplace small and dark.” She wanted to keep the location a special secret between her and Leon.

  “And then?”

  “We went back to the hotel. I bet you can guess what happened after that.”

  “I sure can,” Troyesha said. “You’re wearing it like a red party dress this morning. Did you get any sleep?”

  “A little,” Violet confessed.

  Troyesha started pinning up the hem on a pair of trousers. “You should have taken another day off. You never even take a vacation from this place. I can manage fine, you know.”

  “I know you can,” Violet said. “But I’m in danger of being swept off my feet.” There. It felt better to say it.

  “Working won’t help that,” Troyesha told her. “Either a man’s got it or he don’t. If he does, just hang on and enjoy the ride.”

  “Oh, he’s got it,” Violet said. “But there are all kinds of things he’s not telling me. Who he is. Where he works. What he’s doing in New York City
. He just says he’s here on business.”

  Troyesha knitted her brow. “When they talk like that, it means they’re up to no good.”

  “That’s what I think, too.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” Troyesha said. “But you look happy this morning. You never looked like this when you were shacked with that dog Tim.” She slid the trousers under the sewing machine needle and began to sew. “Leon wouldn’t hurt you, would he?”

  “Not physically.” Violet was certain of that. Leon had been absolutely consistent in treating her like precious crystal. “But there are other ways to get hurt.”

  “I know,” Troyesha said. “But you can’t always dodge them. If you do, you end up dodging the good stuff too.”

  “You’re right, Troy,” Violet said. “You know what? You’re always right.”

  Troyesha nodded smugly, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Remember what you said? Wild horses couldn’t keep me away?” Violet suddenly remembered her wild night with Leon, how his impatience had matched her own eagerness. If anyone had told her to wait before she let him inside her and gave herself to him, she would have run over them.

  “I think I finally understand what you meant by that,” Violet continued. “Last night I found out how good it can be. What I want to know now is how bad it could get.”

  Troyesha shook her head. “You don’t really want to know that,” she said. “Put it out of your mind.” She started up her sewing machine. “Why invite trouble?”

  Violet had no answer for that.

  Chapter 11

  “The reception is a black tie affair,” Leon told her. He was lazily slouched on the suite’s luxurious leather sectional sofa. “By invitation only.”

  “Then I’ll need to make a short trip to my apartment for something to wear,” Violet said.

  She was thinking of the black velvet evening dress that she had bought last year at Bloomingdale’s and dressed up with a matching cummerbund and a vintage rhinestone buckle. She had been waiting for the right occasion to wear it.

  Violet had just arrived at the hotel. She had worked until four o’clock, when Troyesha had shoved her out the door of the shop and told her she needed to go spend some time with Leon so he wouldn’t get away.

  “It won’t be the most exciting evening you’ve ever had,” Leon said. “Besides the tech geeks who are putting on the show, those in attendance will be mostly financial types like me. We’re not a very interesting crowd.”

  “Right you aren’t,” Violet said, leaving Leon to figure out exactly what she meant by that. She seated herself next to him on the sofa.

  Leon cocked an eyebrow at her. “Your New Yorker sassiness will keep me from getting bored this evening,” he said. “Not only that, but I will look so much better with you at my side.”

  “Ah,” Violet said. “We Americans have a saying for that. We call it ‘arm candy.’”

  “Arm candy,” Leon repeated. “I like it. And this particular arm candy is especially sweet.”

  He kissed her on the mouth and didn’t let up. Violet felt his arms tighten around her waist as his lips raked hers and his tongue beckoned her to return the kiss. She did.

  When he released her, her face was flushed and they were both breathing hard. “I’ll get you a cab,” he said in a husky voice. “We need to leave at seven-thirty.”

  Violet took the cab to her apartment and was surprised when the doorman recognized her and admitted her without comment. It had been a while since had been home, if that’s what she wanted to call it.

  Everything was neat and clean, just as she had left it. She found the dress she was looking for immediately, along with a few other life necessities. She was especially pleased to find the beautiful NARS eyeshadow she had bought last year at Sephora and never wore. The color was “Daphne,” an especially vibrant shade of deep indigo that she knew would make her eyes look stunning in an after-five setting.

  She considered returning to the suite to get ready for the evening, but as she made her way around the apartment gathering up what she needed, she found herself feeling more at home in her own space. She really had stayed with Tim too much at the end, probably because her intuition had told her some time ago that he was cheating on her. Instead of leaving, she had clung to him more tightly, trying to keep an eye on him, which of course was impossible.

  Violet vowed not to make the same mistake ever again. She stepped into the shower and got herself ready to go out on the town.

  As she emerged from the apartment building, she saw a town car waiting at the curb.

  “Car’s for you, Ms. Wilson,” the doorman said. “Sent by a Mr. Girard.”

  Violet was pleased. She used taxicabs as her primary mode of transportation. Usually they were fine, but they were noisy and not always the cleanest. With a cab you never knew what you might get. The town cars were run by a limousine service and were much more pleasant for riding to a gala event.

  The doorman helped her into the car and she settled in for the ride back to the hotel.

  ***

  Leon emerged from the shower in the master bath of the suite and toweled himself dry. He noted with a grimace that Hugh had called him and left a message.

  While he put on the various pieces of his tux, he considered whether to return his partner’s call. The evening’s work really was routine, no matter what bizarre ideas the American might have in his muddled head. Hugh would work the crowd, using the contacts in the investment world that Leon had been obtaining for him over the previous months. Leon would introduce Hugh to new prospects, and when enough alcohol had flowed, the chubby little American would dispense some unsolicited trading advice and provide an anonymous phone number. More often than not, human greed took it from there.

  All this was well and good, thought Leon, except that Violet was one of their prospects.

  Even before he had met her, he had told Hugh it was a dumb idea. Violet Wilson wasn’t a trader, and in Leon’s eyes she was much too far from where the action was to have any influence. But Hugh had insisted, and stupidly, Leon had gone along with it. Now it was too late for him to back out.

  Or was it?

  Leon fastened the white cummerbund of the tux and knotted the black bow tie, leaving Hugh’s message to wink away on his cell phone like a ship passing in the night. They would see each other soon enough.

  When the phone rang again, it was the front desk notifying him that the town car had arrived. Pocketing his wallet and phone, he made his way to the lobby, anticipating with pleasure his upcoming evening in Violet’s company.

  The driver opened the door and he got in next to Violet. “Mon cherie,” he murmured and planted a quick kiss on her lips, taking care not to disturb her lipstick. “My God, you look absolutely stunning.”

  “Merci,” Violet said, lowering her lashes down over those enormous blue eyes that already were haunting his dreams at night. “And where are you taking me this evening, Monsieur Girard?”

  “To the stars, my dear, to the stars.” When Violet looked quizzically at him, he said, “Actually, to the Edison Ballroom here in Midtown.”

  “That will do,” Violet said, “if the stars aren’t within reach.”

  “Ah, but they are,” Leon said. He banished the thought of Hugh and his job from his mind, put his arm around Violet, and pulled her close to him for the rest of the ride, as if he was afraid she would get away from him.

  They arrived at the ballroom and the driver let them out. Inside the hall, the big lighted ball spun, casting tiny lights around the dance floor, and the band was already warming up. Leon found them a table in the back where it was quieter. When the waitress arrived, he ordered a gin and tonic for Violet, along with a club soda for himself.

  “No party for Leon tonight?” Violet inquired.

  “I’m afraid not,” Leon replied. “I had to take some medication.”

  It wasn’t a lie, he thought to himself. He had taken a sedative yesterday as soon as he l
earned that the bus would be going to the Rockefeller Center. It just hadn’t taken effect quickly enough to keep him from having a panic attack.

  No, his reason for not drinking was merely dishonest as hell. The medication was absolutely not the reason he was abstaining from alcohol this evening.

  He wasn’t supposed to drink while he was on the job.

  The catering staff served dinner, which was execrable, but he was hungry, and he wanted to make sure Violet didn’t go hungry either. Damn! He should have taken her out for dinner before the reception.

  As if on cue, the band started its first number, a hot salsa tune. Across the room, Leon spotted Hugh working the crowd, earnestly doing his job. Probably looking for me already, Leon thought.

  “Do you dance?” he asked Violet.

  “I thought you would never ask,” she replied.

  He led her to the dance floor, took her left hand in his right, and placed his other hand on her slender waist.

  She was a skilled dancer and followed his every move through the merengue. Leon stepped it up, spinning her forward and backward, bending her like a willow and straightening her up. She looked at him through languid, half-closed eyes, as if she was taking a nap in the sun instead of spinning like a fireball on her high heels.

  They were both breathing hard by the time the number had finished. Leon saw that Hugh had scoped out their table while they were dancing and had helped himself to Leon’s seat.

  The bastard, Leon thought.

  “Another dance, mademoiselle?” he asked her, catching his breath.

  “Of course,” Violet said.

  This song was even faster than the first. The band’s horn section was ramping up to full throttle and riffing off one another as Leon spun Violet through another merengue, admiring how she executed the steps in her high heels as if she had been born with them on her feet.