Brandon didn’t even seem to notice when she excused herself to go freshen up. She found a private restroom one floor up. She went in and locked the door before approaching the mirror to stare at her reflection.
A little bit of her fear was assuaged by the woman staring back at her. Even in the vibrant color, she looked dignified. The dress might be bright, but it was still classy. The fabric hugged her figure nicely, and even though the hemline ended just short of her knees, it somehow still seemed reserved enough for a ballet theater.
Sandra turned the tap on and dipped her hands into the running water. Something about Clarisse irked her, more than it should have if Clarisse’s only transgression was taking over Brandon’s attention. She had done nothing wrong, not purposefully, and had always been friendly and courteous toward Sandra. Yet it was strange how Brandon allowed Clarisse to act so informally around him. It could not be typical for a regular boss-to-employee relationship. And, why had Brandon not said anything about inviting her? Something was off, Sandra was sure of it. She needed to figure out what…
She sighed. The only thing she knew was that she was overreacting to the whole thing. There didn’t have to be anything unusual about Brandon’s relationship with Clarisse. Brandon seemed like a man who took good care of those around him, and if Clarisse had been his assistant for so long, why wouldn’t he invite her to a show like this? Especially given Clarisse’s clear interest in ballet.
Sandra turned the tap back off and tried to focus on something else. The performance so far had been magnificent. She would not have originally thought Brandon one to appreciate such things—especially not after their first encounter. Now, after seeing his more tender, caring side this morning, she wasn’t surprised.
Sandra heard the door creak open behind her, and spun around in surprise. “Sorry, there’s someone in here!”
But the door kept moving. All of a sudden, Brandon’s familiar figure filled the doorway.
“Brandon…?” Sandra said. “What? How did you…?”
He held up the flattened end of a paperclip between his fingers, roguish grin on his face. “It’s a push-pin lock,” he explained. Two powerful strides took him right across the room. “Do you know, Sandra, how fucking hard you are to resist?”
Before she could answer, his mouth crashed into hers. For the first moment, Sandra was painfully aware that the door was still unlocked and anybody could walk in on them. That worry vanished as she lost herself in the great heat of Brandon’s kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way his mouth collided with hers. It was all raw, unrestrained hunger on his part.
His hands were on her body. One started trailing up her leg. “Brandon…” Sandra breathed, breaking away from his kiss to clear her mind, “…not here.” She gripped his wrist to push his hand away from between her legs. She didn’t want him to realize how turned on he’d made her—nor how wet her panties were.
His hand disappeared. “You’re right.” The flare of disappointment at how fast he’d acceded overwhelmed any pleasure she got from having her way. “I’ll see you in the box,” he said. “Don’t be long. The second half’s starting soon.”
Just like that, he was gone, leaving Sandra in the restroom with her heart racing and her cheeks burning from the scratch of his stubble. She walked to the door on wobbly legs, pushed the lock in tight, and took five deliberate breaths. She had to compose herself.
Back at the mirror, she could see how flushed her face and neck were after Brandon’s single kiss. She shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she could reconcile the sheer speed with which she’d responded to him sexually. It was unprecedented. Even worse, she could not deny how cheap it made her feel—or how damn hot all of it was!
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Sandra felt calm enough to return to the box, the second half of the show had already started. She quietly lowered herself into the seat by Brandon, careful not to disturb the people in the adjacent box.
Brandon gave no indication that anything had transpired between them in the intermission. He touched her hand in greeting, and that was all. His attention was devoted to the dancers below them, as was Clarisse’s.
For that, Sandra was glad. She’d enjoyed Moonshadows so far, and was very ready to absorb the beautiful music and dancing again.
Not five minutes later, she felt Brandon’s hand travelling up her leg. A pulse of pure lust shot through her middle, but she forced it down. “What are you doing?” she hissed, pushing him away.
Brandon, however, seemed not to have heard. He was entirely transfixed by the performance. Not a single muscle on his face betrayed what his hand intended. He left it on her knee for now, but the make out session in the restroom, plus the sensation of his strong, sure fingers on her skin made her insides throb with anticipation.
Sandra was scared Brandon might feel the heat emanating from her core. She pressed her legs together so he wouldn’t mistake her resolve. She tried very hard to focus on the dancers below her. The stage had been transformed into a river so real it looked as if the performers were standing on water. The lead ballerina had her arms spread wide and was being lifted by the male lead, until he held her split-legged above his head. She clasped her ankles around his neck and leaned back, planking off his chest as he spun her round and round. There was something very sensual about the way their bodies flowed together, something very subtle. It was undeniably erotic. With Brandon’s hand still on her knee, Sandra’s libido shot into overdrive.
As if he’d read her mind, Brandon moved his hand up her leg again. Sandra squirmed and tried to push him away. The man was absolutely mad! She knew she could not let him past the defenses of her hands. If he had any idea how moist her panties were from his lingering touch, she’d be completely helpless to resist him.
Sandra tried to look over and attract his attention, but Brandon stared straight ahead, singularly focused on the performance. Sandra began to twist away, but Brandon’s hand caught her thigh in an iron grip. She couldn’t move so much as an inch.
Her breaths quickened. Conflicting emotions raged through her mind. Anxiety and worry were at the forefront, of course. But, beneath them, born of some repressed part of Sandra’s psyche, there was an undeniable current of need. Almost as if she wanted Brandon to keep pushing.
Sandra became uncomfortably aware of Clarisse’s nearness. She sneaked a peak past Brandon, and saw that his assistant was focused completely on the ballet. Sandra looked past her, to the people in the boxes on the other side. There were men in dark suits and women in dignified dresses, all looking down at the stage. In front of her, not ten feet away, the first rows of the main seating housed a sea of dark bodies. There were so many people. There were so many eyes. If just one pair looked over and saw what Brandon was doing, Sandra knew she would die of mortification.
Thankfully, Brandon seemed to understand her message. His hand didn’t fight hers. Sandra relaxed, the tension oozing out of her. Brandon’s hand darted upwards like a viper, slipping up her legs into the warm recess between her thighs. Sandra gasped and gripped his wrist, but his hand was already pressed against her panties, below her dress. He could not miss how turned on she was.
“Stop it!” she hissed, conscious of the need to speak quietly enough so that only Brandon would hear.
He only smiled, and leaned into her. “Why?” he whispered in his raspy voice. “I can feel how wet you are for me.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Sandra was horrified at how easily her body responded to him. Before she could formulate an answer, his steady fingers started massaging her clit. The first ripple of pleasure spread through her body, radiating from his magnificent touch. She gasped a sharp breath.
It was wrong. Oh, it was so very wrong! Brandon shouldn’t be doing this, not here, not in a sophisticated venue like this, not with so many people around, not with so many piercing eyes in the crowd. All it would take was one wandering look, and she’d be caught. Even worse—
Oh, God! Sa
ndra bit down her tongue to stop the cry that built in her throat from Brandon’s touch. She shuddered as a spasm of pleasure rocked her body. She knew this was wrong, forbidden, and totally inappropriate. However, there was no going back, now. Her body shouldn’t be responding to him like this. Not here. Not now. Not—
Without warning she hit the climax. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, her body coiled and released in sinful pleasure. She came once, and then, spurred on by Brandon’s heavenly touch, again and again, the waves rocking her body and emptying her mind as she was consumed by the annihilating orgasms. She dug her nails into the hand rests, gripping tight, determined not to make a sound as wild lashes of pleasure swept her body.
Everything in the world faded as Sandra lost herself in a river of pure bliss. She floated on currents of nothing, of less than nothing, her mind blank and white.
It was a long time before she descended back down to earth. By then, Brandon’s hand was gone. The danger point was past, the forbidden pleasure reached. And nobody around them had seen anything.
All of a sudden, an insatiable craving erupted in Sandra. She wanted nothing more than to go wild, to pull Brandon into some back stairwell and make love to him, giving him the same pleasure he’d just given her. The thrill, the danger, the threat of discovery… all of it added so much spice to the carnal pleasure. Surreptitious sex was new to her, but now, after Brandon’s bold demonstration, she wanted more.
It was hard to shift her mind back to the ballet. She was so turned on, all she could think of was the end of the night… and what would happen when she and Brandon got back to the hotel suite together.
Chapter Nineteen
Sandra managed to focus enough to rise with the crowd and join in the standing ovation when the show ended. Her desire for Brandon hadn’t subdued at all. If anything, it had grown even greater while she had attempted to suppress it from a boil to a simmer. Now, it was ready to explode.
Clarisse presented the only complication. Sandra couldn’t just whisk Brandon away from her without being rude, or—worse—inappropriate. Nobody could know how badly Sandra wanted Brandon except for her—and him, of course.
Yet by some stroke of luck, Clarisse left them almost as soon as they reached the main lobby. She claimed she had some friends to meet in the company, which struck Sandra as odd because she had no idea how an executive assistant—no matter how sophisticated she was—could know people from an international ballet group. But that thought was only a blip on Sandra’s mental radar as Clarisse gave her apologetic farewell. All Sandra cared about was being alone with Brandon.
“Do you want to eat?” Brandon asked a few minutes later as he led her to his car.
Eat? Sandra thought. No, I’m only hungry for one thing tonight. Instead, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that back there!” she hissed at him, low so nobody around them would hear. Even if lust for Brandon flared through her like an unyielding siren, she had to retain some dignity before him. “What if somebody saw us?”
“Nobody did. I know you liked it.” He flashed that all-too-cocky smile at her. They’d stopped beside his yellow car—clearly the most conspicuous vehicle in the lot. Even though they were in a sophisticated crowd, Sandra noticed some of the envious glances the other men directed at Brandon’s Ferrari. “Besides, you’re the one who gave me the suggestion.”
“I did no such thing!” Sandra exclaimed, aghast. “What are you talking about?”
“In the bathroom. You told me ‘not here,’ remember?” He directed an innocent look toward her. “You gave me the idea.”
“I didn’t mean there,” Sandra insisted. With the cool night air clearing her head a bit, she found herself with some more perspective about just what Brandon had done. Now, thinking back, it felt like she’d sullied the grandeur and sophistication of the show by what she did—even if she’d had little choice in the matter. She’d never expected this side to Brandon, not after the tender way he’d made love to her that morning.
But Brandon seemed not to have heard. “Seeing the way those dancers move their bodies…” he trailed off into silence. He’d adopted a faraway look, deep in thought. “And the smell of your hair, the feel of your arm against mine… Sandra, it was too much to resist.”
“Well, you’re going to have to learn to, otherwise I won’t be going anywhere in public with you!”
“Sandra, I—” he broke off, and that soul-consuming fire flared in his eyes. Sandra had no warning as his powerful hand grabbed her waist, pulled her toward him, and pressed her back against the jarring cold aluminum of his car. Sandra barely managed a squeak before his mouth was on hers, his hand digging deep into the flesh of her abdomen.
He kissed her with the immoral passion of a Don Juan, with the unrelenting force of a man consumed by lust. Sandra tried to resist, at first, aware again of how visible they were in the parking lot, but her defiance was in vain. After everything that had transpired tonight, she still wanted Brandon as much as he wanted her.
So, she opened her mouth and let his tongue scorch hers, let him devour the very essence that made her whole. The frigid aluminum of the car stole away her warmth, but the heat of Brandon’s mouth replenished it, filling her body and soul with torrential passion.
When he finally broke free, and Sandra gasped that first icy breath into raw lungs, she felt a little dizzy, and had to steady herself by gripping his shoulders.
“Brandon, there are people watching…” she tried to admonish, but the protest was weak and half-hearted.
Brandon turned his head to look around, then caught her eye again. “And so there are.” Sandra saw how many of the passersby were making a concentrated effort to look away, but they were so obvious about it that there was no doubt they saw. “Let them.”
Sandra was struck by the powerful force of need that swelled inside her at Brandon’s cavalier pronouncement. Her heart started racing from excitement and her nipples strained beneath her bra.
It made her feel unexpectedly beautiful and sexy, this newfound thrill of a public showing of affection by a man who could obviously have any woman he wanted. In a scant hour or so, Brandon had given her more adventure in her sex life than she’d accumulated by the age of twenty-five. And when she heard the unbidden words flicker from her tongue in a whisper, she knew she was lost to him. “I need you inside me.”
If she thought the fire in his eyes had burned strongly before, she’d been mistaken. An inferno erupted upon her admission, and those stunning green irises turned into something dark and quite frightening.
“Get in the car,” he commanded. By the time Sandra got to her door on legs that didn’t want to hold her, Brandon had already started the engine. She barely had time to buckle up before the screeching tires caused a nearby group of people to jump.
One look at Brandon’s face was enough to understand Brandon’s desire for her. The protruding bulge in the crotch of his black pants made it all the more evident.
A few minutes of death-defying speeds and running red lights later, Brandon pulled to an abrupt stop in front of an unfamiliar building.
“This isn’t our hotel…?”
Brandon cut her off. “It’s closer.”
A light went on in Sandra’s head. Brandon hopped out of the car, tossed the keys to an astonished valet, growled a warning of, “Take good care of her,” and came around to grab Sandra’s hand in a possessive grip.
He led her straight into the lobby, which looked just as extravagant as the hotel she’d been in the past two nights. Sandra had to run to keep up with him, and when her foot slipped out of one heel, she stopped to pick it up—but Brandon tugged her forward without pause. “Leave it.”
Sandra knew better than to argue. She was much too consumed with steamy thoughts to pay too much attention to her shoes.
“Mr. Galliani,” the porter behind the desk smiled. “What an unexpected pleasure to welcome you to the Nine Zero again.”
“Steve,” Brandon said, eyes
jumping from the man to the far elevator and back again. “Is my room available?”
“Oh, certainly, certainly! Let me just check the computer…” Steve trailed off, intent on the screen. Sandra noticed that the concierge made a point of not looking at her. “Here we go!” He scrolled down with the mouse. “Oh. Um, I’m very sorry, Mr. Galliani, but I’m showing a reservation in your room for tonight.”
Sandra felt Brandon stiffen. “Have they checked in?”
Steve tapped something on the keyboard. “Let me see… No. No, they haven’t.”
Brandon relaxed. “Good. Cancel the reservation. I need that room tonight.”
Steve paled, and for a second Sandra thought he was going to refuse… but the look passed and he started nodding like a bobble head. “Yes. Yes. I know our expected guests won’t be pleased with having their plans changed, but we take good care of our friends here.”
Brandon grunted, not an ounce of sympathy on his face for the people whose plans he’d disrupted.
“And how will you be paying for this visit, Mr. Galliani?”
“Same as always. Cash, when I check out.” He squeezed Sandra’s hand. She was dying from anticipation. She glanced at the front of his pants, and was pleased to see his excitement hadn’t faded, either.
Steve handed Brandon a keycard, which he snatched and started for the elevator. Sandra gave a little yelp as she was yanked after him.
Yours to Savor Page 18
