Christmas Eve

by Flame Arden

  "Nick..." She moaned, surprising herself when his name escaped her lips.

  Chapter Four

  "I’d planned to go slow." Nick lifted his mouth rather than take advantage of Eve's parted lips and took a step back.

  Smiling seductively, she trailed her manicured nails over his ribs. He grabbed one hand, then the other, and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

  "You know what? I'm starved. Have dinner with me?"

  Those twin flames of flickering desire in his eyes intrigued her. Eve shook her head to shake off the last remnants of yearning, the faint muzziness caused by need.

  "Eat?" Good lord. She'd all but thrown herself at him and Nick was hungry for food.

  "Come on, the table's all set." Taking her hand in his, he urged her to follow him through a wide archway into the adjoining room where a candle-lit table for two had been placed near another fire, this one a gas log. Nick pulled out a chair for her.

  "Were you expecting company?"

  "Only you." His look warmed her toes far better than the flickering log.

  While she mulled over his reply, he excused himself for a moment, then returned with a heavily-laden tray.

  "My goodness." She stared at the bounty, inhaling the delicious aromas rising from each dish.

  He shrugged off her astonished response. "I had help."

  A wife?

  A lover?

  A roommate away on holiday?

  He lifted the lid of a soup tureen and offered her the ladle, then sat opposite her. "Help yourself."

  "Mock turtle soup?" She filled her bowl.

  He nodded. "A bit of sherry?"

  Eve swallowed her grin. A five star restaurant on the top of Mt. Charleston? Great place to get her car stuck. "Sure."

  Nick broke apart a round, partially-sliced loaf of dark bread, placed a piece on her bread plate, then slathered butter on his slice.

  He scooped up some soup in his spoon. "Have you lived in Las Vegas long?"

  Eve tensed. No personal queries. I can't abide anyone digging into my affairs.

  "Long enough. Why?"

  "I have the feeling Las Vegas hasn't always been home to you."

  Where was he going with this? Prying questions she could do without. "I came here to attend college and decided to stay."

  * * * * *

  Which proved Nick right. Eve had the self-assured mannerisms of a New England socialite. But even if she had worked her way through college on her back, why keep at it now? With a college degree in hand, she could turn to other things and forget turning tricks.

  Unless she had a child to raise.

  Still, with a college education, there was no need for a well-put-together woman like Eve to continue her trade. At one time only the direst of circumstances led a woman this beautiful to sell her body. And her soul.

  But the glamor of Las Vegas had turned many a young woman's head.

  Nick tried not to think about the other men Eve might have been with. For tonight, she belonged to him.

  Reaching across the table, he filled her wine glass, then his. "What made you decide to settle here?"

  "The booming real estate market."

  Of course. The desert metropolis was growing by leaps and bounds and...

  She was back to playing that silly game of hers again.

  "Real estate?"

  She swallowed a sip of wine and smiled broadly. "Newcomers move here every day. Someone has to help them find homes."

  Yeah. And my name is George W. Bush. "And that someone is you?" Nick asked.

  Eve casually broke off a piece of buttered bread. "It puts food on the table," she said proudly. "Selling real estate means I’m no longer dependent on my father. What about you? What brought you west?"

  The slow-moving freight train he'd hopped. And not all that long ago.

  Nick admitted that to no one. He let them wonder about his past. He'd come a long way from the one-horse town of Lost Coin, Texas, most of those steps sweating blood.

  "The lure of easy money," he said, truthful up to a point. "The hope of striking it rich." He stood to remove their empty bowls.

  Noticing that Eve's mood had lightened when she turned the conversation to him, Nick drifted past the CD player to select more soft jazz and assure Eve's attitude adjustment.

  He returned to the table with stuffed salmon, curried asparagus and mashed potatoes with just a hint of garlic. His favorites foods. Eve's too, he hoped, and set a temptingly arranged plate before her with a flourish worthy of a maître d'.

  "Heavens. I couldn't possibly eat all this." Her eyes danced as she looked across at him.

  He could gaze into those startling eyes all day, losing himself in their mysterious depths.

  Like the smoothest of waiters, he offered her the bread. "Try."

  While Eve spread butter on the crusty slice, she asked, "So, did you? Strike it rich, I mean?"

  "No," he said, his tone brusque.

  No, to my car keys. No, to my money. No, to the notion you can become a permanent part of my life.

  His pleasure in the fine meal before them ebbed away. He gritted his teeth, convinced the lady had her hand poised to reach into his pocket. In record time, to boot. She might as well have asked how much money he had in the bank.

  Like all the other women in his life, Eve seemed ready to sort his change for her benefit. Before long she'd be asking, "Can I drive this sporty little car? I’ve always wanted a Ferrari all my own."

  Always the same, no matter who he coupled with. After trying out Croupier, women usually wanted their hands on two more of his possessions: his car keys and his dough.

  Undaunted by his sharp reply, Eve forked up a bite of salmon, savored it on her tongue. "Delicious. My compliments to the chef."

  "I'll tell him." Without question, André could cook. Most nights, at the casino, Nick couldn't take time to enjoy his food, but for the next few days, the slowest time of the year in Vegas, he intended to indulge himself.

  Eve ate quietly, a small frown creasing her brow. Trying to figure him out, Nick supposed.

  She needn't bother. She wouldn't be around that long.

  "I love fresh asparagus." Eve's pink tongue curled around a thin stalk and he watched, spellbound, as she sucked the tasty morsel in, then bit off the tip.

  He winced. Even so, his blood moved through his veins like warmed honey, thick and slow. He abandoned all thought of money-grabbing women as his heart raced and his skin grew hot.

  Uttering a soft curse, he started to sweat.

  What that tongue could do to his body, he couldn't wait to find out.

  But first things first. They hadn't finished the main course and here he was, dreaming about dessert.

  Eve set her fork on her plate. "Is something wrong?"

  "No, why?" Nick's words sounded gravelly.

  "You look... besieged."

  "Just incredibly warm. It's probably the wine, and our closeness to the fire."

  Eve nodded, then tipped her own goblet to her lips. As she rolled a sip of the golden liquid around on her tongue, she smiled at him, one brow raised.

  She was slowly killing him. An experienced courtesan enjoying her game, aware of the effect she was having on him. Yeah...

  The sudden rush of anticipation sent the blood pulsing through Nick's veins, roaring in his ears. Even his palms felt sweaty. He picked up his napkin, wiped his hands, then his brow.

  Eve's puzzled expression was slow to change, but when a smile broke across her face, it was like the sun breaking through clouds. His heart moved, as if she held it in her dainty hands.

  Surprised by his reaction to her beguiling smile, he emptied his wine glass. Set it down.

  Sometime over the last few minutes, he'd cleaned his plate of food, but couldn't remember eating a single bite. Eve had cast a spell over him. He felt like he was swimming upstream, trying to keep his head above water.

  Trying to stay in control.

  He refused her offer of help and clea
red the table by himself.

  "Would you like dessert now, or later, Eve?"

  "Later, please." She pushed back from the table and stood. "I couldn't possibly eat anything else. And we really should do something about my car."

  Same song. Different verse.

  "It can stay where it is until morning. That way, we'll be able to see what we're doing."

  "But what if the owner of the house next door returns? My car is blocking his drive."

  "Let's worry about that when it happens." He reached for her hand and led her back to the front room.

  A medley of tunes from the forties played on the stereo. He turned to Eve, his hand going to her waist, prepared to pick up right where they'd left off.

  "I should–"

  "No, you shouldn't," he whispered, turning her to face him. "Everything else can wait. Your only priority for this night is to share time with me."

  Chapter Five

  How had Nick guessed that Eve was all alone tonight? And tomorrow.

  She had no Christmas plans. Her parents spent theirs in the Hamptons. And she'd once again turned down their invitation to join them. She and Jeffery had talked about spending the time together and she'd packed a bag for...

  No. She no longer had plans.

  Nick nibbled her ear lobe. Then his tongue followed the intricate curve, releasing a bevy of delicious sensations before the wet tip completed its fiery path. She gasped and felt him smile against her ear.

  He swung her out to the middle of the floor in a fast fox trot, sweeping her all the way around the room, dizzying her. Or was it his nearness, his masculine scent that made her head swim?

  "You like to dance." He stated the fact in a voice so low she almost missed his words.

  "Love to. I can pack a suitcase in nothing flat if there's a jazz festival within a thousand miles."

  "Dixieland?" he asked, his surprise evident.

  "Dixie, ragtime, I love them all. My grandfather played jazz piano with his own band. It's in my blood."

  Nick was quiet so long she was afraid she'd said too much, scared him off by volunteering that information. Then he said, "Most of the women I know prefer Salsa."

  She'd tried it, but quickly went back to the easy rhythms of jazz.

  As the Glenn Miller tune came to an end, Nick slid his hands down, then up to her hips, her waist. Her breath came in small pants. His fingertips accidentally brushed the sides of her breasts, the possessive caress stirring a deep ache.

  Then, he embraced her, molding her body to his. Her breath caught. Smiling tenderly as he looked deep into her eyes, he lowered his head.

  Their mouths fit as easily as their bodies, his kiss one of gentle exploration. She leaned into him, wanting more. Needing more. So much more.

  Every nerve in her body tingled. This man she hardly knew made her feel desirable. No, make that desired.

  Pressed against his hard chest, her breasts came alive, and as his tongue parted her lips her knees weakened. He swept the corners of her swollen lips. The tip of his tongue brushed the backsides of her teeth. Played hide and seek with her own tongue. Begged it to come out and play.

  And just like that, she wanted him. More than she'd ever wanted anyone or anything, she longed to lie next to this handsome stranger, to touch him. To allow him to touch her, foolish though it seemed.

  She pulled his head lower, opened her mouth wider, opening her heart as well, heedless of everything but her urgent need for the man standing so near.

  * * * * *

  Nick felt Eve's resistance melt and grinned to himself. She certainly had her innocent act perfected, but he couldn't find any reason to complain. He couldn't remember when a woman had him this turned on. This needy.

  He slid his hand around her waist and turned her toward the hall, slowly guiding her while he trailed kisses along her well-defined cheekbone, her delicate ear and slender, sexy neck. She moved like a debutante, her grace as much a part of Eve as her sensual walk. Every step she took made his heart pound with lust, knowing he would soon have her comfortably ensconced on his bed while he had his way with her. Again and again.

  He nudged his bedroom door all the way open with his knee and led her into the masculine sanctuary decorated in burgundy and forest green. Far different from the one in his suite at the casino, where mirrors lined the ceiling and walls, an ideal room to engage in casual sex.

  Drive by shootings, he'd heard them called on TV. A place where, before his death, his lonely benefactor entertained women he’d picked up in the bar. A few hours of passion and adios.

  What sleeping Nick did in his suite at the casino occurred in his den.

  The same was not true of this room. Any companion he arranged through Priscilla made the long trek up the mountain with the understanding she'd spend the night with him. Sometimes, if she were special, more than one.

  Nick had the feeling Eve would indeed prove special. His racing pulse proved as much as he ran his hands over her hips.

  He turned slowly to face her, not wanting to hurry the next few moments. Croupier would like nothing more than for him to rip the clothes from Eve's body. Throw her on the bed. Sink into her with wild abandon. Satisfy his lust.

  Nick resisted the urge, determined to go slow.

  Eve stared up at him, wide eyed. His heart twisted, and if he hadn't recognized the expression as part of her act, he would have marched her right back up the hall and out his front door. No woman who looked this vulnerable deserved the things he planned to do to her.

  But then Eve wasn't just any woman. She was his for as long as he wanted her. Bought and paid for with the signed, open-ended credit card slip left with Priscilla for just such an occasion as this.

  As if possessing her would make him less powerful, the thought of owning Eve weakened his knees. He'd soon see if Eve pleased him as much in bed.

  He smiled down at her and some of the tension left her shoulders. Even so, the tip of her tongue darted out to nervously moisten her lips.

  Still unsure?

  Wanting to put her at ease, Nick slid his hand up her arm, brushed her shoulder, then cradled her head and kissed those moistened lips. "Mind if I take your hair down?"

  Her brief nod and hesitant blink were almost his undoing. Again he reminded himself she was being paid well for tonight.

  "Want me to help?" Her words were a sexy moan.

  "No need," he said, his voice as tight as his groin. The notion that Eve was under Nick’s control had Croupier leaping in ecstasy.

  Nick reached up and carefully withdrew a hairpin. Then another and another, until her topknot loosened. Just one strand at first, then more, until finally he could run his fingers, unfettered, through the thick mahogany mass.

  Nick lifted a handful of long hair and buried his face in the sweetly-scented strands. "Ah, Eve, you warm a man's heart." And well worth every penny Priscilla charges for your time.

  That thought brought him to the abrupt realization that he no longer cared to think beyond the soft, willing woman he embraced.

  With Eve at his side, a man could walk into the classiest home and feel proud he'd had the good sense to engage her for the evening. And know that later, her pert breasts would attract his hands, even if he wanted to refrain from touching her there.

  Which Nick most certainly did not.

  As his fingers massaged her scalp, she sighed, rotating her head in pleasure.

  "Lovely," he whispered, and buried his face in the soft waves again. "You should wear your hair down all the time."

  * * * * *

  And look like a school-girl instead of the professional realtor I've strived so hard to become? No way.

  Nick kissed her again, and all sane thoughts fled. His fingers lost interest in her hair and trailed down her neck, his hand coming to a halt at the slope of her breast. He sought her firm nipple with his thumb, and she felt it straining against the confines of her D-cup bra. As if entranced, he cupped the soft cashmere sweater covering it and stroked t
he mound of flesh underneath.

  Watching him, Eve could think of no reasonable explanation for her inexplicable wantonness. Sure, in her sex-deprived existence, she'd found ways to satisfy her baser needs, but falling into the arms of a complete stranger was not one of them.

  Still, she was not ready to call a halt to Nick's sexual assault just yet.

  Not while he held her so tenderly in his arms and looked longingly at her sweater-clad breasts, breasts that yearned for his attention with constant need.

  Heat pooled in her stomach.

  Off with it. Now. Strip me.

  She shifted her weight, her breast shifting in Nick's hand and exciting her even more as she did.

  Please.

  "If you like that, I've got more for you," Nick murmured, a smile in his voice, one hand fondling a still concealed breast. She writhed with an onslaught of desire that stopped her breath.

  Her head lolled back. Her lips parted, everything within her burned with need. "Nick... please. Now?"

  * * * * *

  Nick chuckled. "Sweetheart, we've only just begun."

  Eve was hot, like the sparkler he'd held too long one Fourth of July and burned his fingertips. He wanted her fully nude and beside him on the bed, so after another gentle squeeze, he released her enticing breasts. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

  Eve wore so many layers he was delighted when she lifted her arms to assist. Her sweater and silky undershirt came up and off, then her skirt slid down. He was unaccustomed to the help of a call girl. The ones he'd entertained in the past simply stood, or laid, immobile, expecting to be admired as each layer came off, and not by her own hands, unless he'd ordered her to strip while he watched.

  He stepped back to admire Eve. Calves hidden by soft suede boots joined thighs a horny man sometimes dreamed about, the soft kind a man could lose himself in. Legs long enough to lock around him, to pull him deeper inside her with their muscular strength. The legs of an athlete, now devoted to the sporting bed.

  The lush woman standing before him, nude except for her bra and matching dark green panties and those tan boots, looked uncertain, as if unsure of her next move.