“And Steve?” Brandon called out over one shoulder, “Give my regards to your manager.”
They reached the elevator, and Brandon hit the button to go up. The light came on right away, but Brandon pressed it again, then again, then again.
Desire burned through Sandra, the coils winding tighter and tighter in preparation of the ultimate gratification that would come upstairs. But the wait was impossible to bear. Brandon had shown her the thrill of a public display, and she was hungry for more. To hell with propriety. She’d never see any of the people milling around in the lobby again. None of them mattered.
Only Brandon mattered.
She turned to him. “Kiss me.”
Brandon’s eyes widened—he hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”
“Kiss me.” She was all but jumping from the amount of lust that throttled through her body. “Kiss me. Now.”
The last word was still on her tongue as Brandon’s head streaked down and caught her mouth with unsurpassed violence. There was nothing slow or languid about that kiss, only the fire-made-flesh that burned in his eyes.
Brandon twisted with her in his arms and shoved her against the cool metal elevator doors. Sandra’s fingers curled in his hair, pulling him into her and kissing him as hard as she could. She picked up the scandalized noises that people made around them. Instead of feeling ashamed or self-conscious, she only felt more wicked—and even more turned on. Her hand went to Brandon’s shoulders and she tugged him down, needing to have his hard chest pressed up against her tender breasts.
That was when the elevator doors decided to open.
One moment she was pinned against an impenetrable, solid surface; the next, that surface vanished, and she was falling back through thin air.
Brandon landed right on top of her, in a heap on the floor. He pushed up, a curious look on his face… and started to laugh.
Sandra blinked, bewildered by his response. The man had almost flattened her with the force of his weight, and instead of helping her up or inquiring about her well-being, he was… laughing?
But then the absurdity of the moment struck her, too. She realized how ridiculous she must look, sprawled on the floor in a flashy yellow dress, half her body in the elevator and the other half not, straddled by a powerful man in a night-black suit. She began to laugh, too. That’s what she got for making out like a horny teenager in the lobby of a fancy boutique hotel!
When Brandon finally stood and helped her up, Sandra took a moment to compose herself. She smoothed the front of her dress, pushed the hair out of her eyes—and realized for the first time that they were not alone in the elevator.
A man dressed in the crisp hotel uniform stood by the elevator panel, grinning like an idiot at both of them.
A sudden flare of humiliation scorched through Sandra. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Brandon—as always—remained unfazed.
“Will you be going up to your usual suite, Mr. Galliani?” the man asked, entirely too much suggestion in his voice.
Brandon gave a curt nod, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Yes, but this time, I won’t need you to take us there.” He reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet, and took out a paper bill. Sandra caught a glimpse of Franklin’s face as the money changed hands. “You’ll give me the key and make sure we’re not disturbed?”
“Of course!” The man pulled out a small, flat key from the inside of his vest, and gave it to Brandon before stepping out of the elevator.
The doors closed, and Sandra was alone with Brandon. “What was that all about?” she asked.
“Well, you see, the suite I got us tonight is very particular.” Brandon pushed the key into a keyhole at the bottom of the panel, then swiped the keycard through the reader. “And highly coveted. I gave the doorman a nice tip in exchange for the staff key that grants access to it. The only other one is with the manager, and he’s a good friend.”
“Why?”
“Because we took someone else’s reservations tonight,” Brandon smiled. “Getting the key was just another way to make sure there won’t be anybody banging on our door tonight.” He took a bold step forward. “Although,” he whispered, “There’s going to be plenty of banging inside the room.”
He dipped his head down, opening his mouth to feast upon her neck. Sandra sucked in a breath and arched forward at the feeling of his tongue on her skin. In the privacy of the elevator, Brandon’s hands explored her body freely, squeezing her breasts, trailing down her abdomen, pressing through the dress onto her sex. She moaned as a ripple of pleasure cascaded through her body at the feeling of his hand there again. She bucked her hips forward, urging him to give her more.
“Jesus,” Brandon breathed, his voice hot and steamy, “you’re already wet for me aren’t you, Sandra?”
Without warning, both his hands grasped her hips, and he hefted her up, pressing her high against the mirrored wall. Sandra loved him handling her like that. She wasn’t tiny, but the way Brandon lifted her so effortlessly made her feel especially feminine. She adored the way his hard arm muscles flexed when he used his strength.
Sandra wrapped both legs around Brandon’s waist, and he used one hand to slip the shoulder of her dress down, exposing her lacy bra. His mouth dropped down to place hot kisses on her chest—first above her breasts, then right in between. Sandra buried her hands in his hair and he pushed her dress up, exposing her bare legs and the thin lacy fabric of her panties, as his mouth continued to delight her skin with sinful kisses.
“Mmm, Brandon,” she purred, squirming with pleasure under his touch. “Yes, just like that…”
Before she knew what was happening he pushed off her, and gently lowered her to her feet. Sandra had to blink a few times to resurface, but once she did, she realized the elevator doors had opened.
“This,” Brandon announced, sweeping an arm in front of them, “is my favorite suite.”
Chapter Twenty
The elevator doors opened to a vast penthouse suite. Now Sandra understood why Brandon had taken the key. These rooms took the entire upper level of the hotel. The elevator did not go any higher, and served as both the lift and the entrance.
The space looked like something out of a luxury real estate magazine. The furniture all matched in gleaming steel and supple black leather, complemented by glass figurines so clear and smooth they looked to be made of running water. Lights from the shimmering city outside illuminated the walls through enormous windows, casting a soft, urban glow on the starkly modern, minimalistic furnishings of the suite.
“Come,” Brandon beckoned, “there’s a view I want you to see.”
Sandra followed him, running her hands over the smooth glass statues as she walked. She liked one in particular: a carving of a polar bear, taller even than Brandon, with its claws bared and teeth set in a menacing growl. It guarded the entrance to one of the hallways. Two dark jewels encrusted the eyes, but that was the only feature to lend it color. Otherwise, the entire beast was clear, shimmering glass.
The city lights did not reach the hallway, so Sandra followed Brandon in the dark, almost bumping into him when he stopped in front of a doorway. He motioned for her to go inside.
She complied, taking careful steps in the dark. Her eyes had started to adjust, and she saw a black chaise longue made of tubular leather pillows in the middle of the room. It faced the far wall, which was made entirely of glass. A white cube stood beside the daybed, presumably as a side table, and when Sandra ran her fingers over it she realized it was made of marble. Those were the only furnishings in the room.
“Down there,” Brandon whispered in her ear, and Sandra jumped to find him so close. The man moved like a thief in the dark! His hands ran up and down her arms, and Sandra shuddered at the heat of his body and smooth rasp of his breathing. She couldn’t wait for them to discard the barrier of clothes that separated their skin. He nodded toward the window, and let her go.
The view took her breath away. When she stepped up to the glass,
she could see the ocean to one side, the marina sheltering tiny boats that swayed peacefully on the ebb. The rooftops of all the other buildings—aside from the Space Needle—ended well below them. This suite seemed to be the highest point in Seattle. Sandra looked down at the street far below. Tiny people walked in and out of the hotel, attended by bellboys and valets, but they were so far from her, and all so small. In fact, the glass was so clear it seemed to Sandra like there was nothing separating her from the outside. Nothing from the safety of this room and… the concrete far below. A queasy feeling built in her throat as she noticed how close her toes were to the edge. In the dark, it felt like just one slip could send her hurtling down.
The room started to spin and she felt like she was falling forward, into the glass. She gasped and braced her arms, but they were slow to respond. She forced her momentum back, away from the edge, away from the sheer drop to the concrete hundreds of feet below her. She stumbled away. The lights from outside twirled like malevolent fireflies around her.
She felt Brandon catch her arm, and turn her toward him. Concern was painted clear on his face. “Are you alright? You started staggering.”
“I feel… dizzy,” she admitted.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you? Shit, I had no idea—”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” Sandra trailed off, feeling the pull of gravity from the street below like iron fillings to a magnet. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the unpleasant sensation. “I just… I just need to sit down.”
Brandon curled one arm below her shoulders, and guided her to the leather chaise. He set her down as carefully as if she were a fragile doll. Being held in his arms made Sandra feel safe, but she was still lightheaded. “Do you need anything?” Brandon asked, kneeling beside her. “A glass of water, some wine…?”
“Yes,” Sandra nodded. “Yes, water would be good.”
“I’ll be right back.” Brandon rushed to the hall. After his footsteps faded, Sandra pushed herself up and took a steadying breath.
What the hell is going on? It was just like her body to interrupt a perfectly intimate moment. She’d been standing at the window, looking down at the city below, her mind trying to work out the fastest way to get Brandon out of his suit, and then… what? Vertigo? Really?
Heights had never troubled her before. But for a genuine moment, the illusion of free fall had scared her. She took another deep breath. Whatever this little spell was, she had to overcome it. She was determined not to let it ruin the night. She and Brandon had checked into the hotel spurred by unbridled passion, and Sandra did not want to disappoint him. But that discomfort by the window was enough to make her body go cold. Maybe she could fake it like she’d done so many times with Henry…
Footsteps roused her from her thoughts. She turned her head to find Brandon standing in the doorway. He’d taken off his jacket, and the cuffs of his pale green shirt were rolled halfway up his forearms. The glow of the city lights cast a shadowy mask across his face, and only his eyes pierced through the darkness. It made him look even more stunning than usual, like a vision of some ancient god come down to earth to take her soul.
He held a wine glass in each hand. “You look better,” he observed, stepping toward her and lowering himself onto the chaise. His leg brushed against hers, and the earthy scent of his cologne filled her lungs. Sandra felt a flush of desire rise within her again.
“Better with you here,” she smiled. It looked like she wouldn’t have to fake it after all.
Brandon nodded at the glasses. “There was only tap water, and I didn’t want to give you that, but I found some white wine…”
“Wine would be great.” Sandra took the glass from him and felt electricity rush up her arm as their fingers touched. No, I won’t have to fake it at all. She brought the glass to her lips and took a long, filling sip. The mildly flavored drink warmed her insides.
Brandon set his glass on the floor. “Lie down,” he suggested. “I’m going to take care of you tonight, and I don’t want you nervous, or tense, or reserved. I want you relaxed. Like you were this morning.” He leaned over to place a slow, gentle kiss on her lips. Sandra moaned a little at the taste of him. “Lie down, and I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Sandra did as she was bid. “Brandon…” she started, but he cut her off with a finger to her lips.
“Don’t talk,” he said. “Don’t even think. Only… feel. Close your eyes.”
Sandra swallowed, feeling the butterflies return to her stomach. But, she did as he asked. She felt Brandon stand and move around her, then the head of the daybed was being lowered, and found herself reclined horizontally. Brandon’s hot breath on her ear announced his proximity. “Flip over,” he whispered.
“Brandon…” Sandra tried again, but this time, he silenced her by pressing his mouth to hers.
“Don’t,” he said when she emerged from his kiss. “Let your body go. Let yourself trust me.”
I do trust you, she wanted to say. But, she kept her mouth shut and rolled to her front instead. She felt Brandon position himself by her side. He lifted the wineglass from her hand and set it on the floor.
“You have such a beautiful body,” he whispered, grazing his fingertips over her bare shoulders, “and such magnificent hair.” His hands combed through it, from the roots to the tips, raking it to one side. He pressed his face into the silky mass, and a ripple of pleasure ran through her body when he inhaled deeply.
“Your skin was meant to be touched, Sandra.” Brandon’s breath left moist condensation on her exposed neck. “Your lips were meant to be kissed.” His lips moved down her spine, landing light, sweet kisses between breaths. “Your body was made to be witnessed. Not hidden.” He pulled the shoulder straps of her dress and bra down her arms. Sandra’s heart started beating faster. “Slip your arms out for me, baby.” Sandra complied, letting him slide the dress down to her hips and unstrap her bra, leaving her back completely bare.
“Wow,” Brandon exhaled, reverently. “Look at you, Sandra. You are so beautiful.” One of his hands moved along the curve of her spine, leaving her skin prickled in its wake. “I want to taste every inch of your sweet skin. It’s so smooth. So delicate. But… so tense.” Suddenly, strong fingers were pressing into her back, kneading away knots in her neck and shoulders. Sandra sighed as Brandon massaged her muscles with an unbelievable dexterity, melting away years of accumulated pressure.
She could hear Brandon’s breathing, slow and heavy, as he worked fingers into her shoulder blades. His thumbs pressed into a sensitive spot, and she gasped, but the hurt went away as soon as Brandon lowered his mouth to kiss her skin.
Inch by inch, his hands crept lower. Sandra’s breathing became more ragged, more... lustful. A throb of heat pulsed between her legs. When Brandon’s hands stopped at her waist, cupping either side of her hips but not going any lower, Sandra nearly cried out from the overwhelming sense of need that crashed into her.
She began to turn over, but Brandon held her down. “Not yet.” Sandra noted a new quality to his voice—one that she’d never heard before. His words were clipped, as if he were trying very hard to suppress something. But, at the same time, there was an underlying eagerness there, too.
Sandra felt the ache return to her breasts, but didn’t fight against Brandon. She yearned for him to touch her, wanted nothing more than to touch him, but he was in control right now. The spell of vertigo was completely forgotten.
“Women are such beautiful, sensual creatures,” Brandon murmured as he slid the bunched-up dress all the way down her legs. “The lies society feeds us about them being not are such bullshit.” He removed the dress from her legs, then slid his hands up and down her calves, her thighs, coming closer and closer to where she needed to feel him… but stopping just short. “You can look, now.”
Sandra turned over, and opened her eyes. Brandon was a shadow in the dark, but his pupils caught the reflection of the city lights outside and stood out like shimmeri
ng diamonds.
Sandra came to the startling conclusion that while she was lying there in nothing but a thong, Brandon was still fully dressed.
“Take your shirt off,” she said, pushing herself up. “Or better yet, let me—”
“Stay there. Don’t move. You want me to strip?” His teeth flashed. “As you command.”
He pulled his shirt out from his pants, then used his hands to undo the row of buttons on the front. His moves were slow and sensual. Brandon shifted one stunning shoulder out of the cloth, the faint light in the room illuminated his body just enough for Sandra to see his tight six pack, the lean muscles of his torso. Another spike of need hit her between the legs. He folded the shirt onto itself and set it down, not once taking his eyes from her. His muscles rippled as he moved, and Sandra was consumed by the soul devouring need that throbbed through her body.
She brought her hands up to squeeze her breasts and sucked in a trembling breath.
“Women have the advantage over men, you see,” Brandon continued, walking slowly to one windowpane to lower the blackout blind. The room became a little darker. “A man can be taken to the edge once…” he trailed off, lowering the next blind with a resounding swoosh, “…and boom, it’s done, he’s satisfied for the night. But a woman… well, she can be brought to climax again, and again, and again.” He moved to shut the adjacent window. “Each time builds on the last. Of course, that can only happen in the hands of an experienced lover.” He completed the circuit to cast the entire room into thick blackness.
The throaty growl of that final sentence made Sandra’s skin tingle and hot moisture pool beneath her panties. She could not believe how turned on Brandon could make her feel—with his voice alone.
With a start, she realized she could no longer see him. Or hear him. She tried to widen her eyes, but there was no light available to help. All she could hear was her own deep, raspy breathing and the blood thundering in her ears.
Yours to Savor Page 19
