The Cinderella Seduction: A Suddenly Cinderella Novel (Entangled Indulgence)

by Tarr, Hope

  She blinked. “Sorry?”

  Holding her securely, he shook his head. “A…story for later.”

  They fell into a mating dance of advance and retreat, their movements as perfectly matched as if they were longtime lovers. She was beautifully responsive, a dream seductress in every way. He fed her passion with deep kisses, questing caresses, and copious praise. “My beauty, my goddess”—the heartfelt compliments tumbled from his lips. My love nearly slipped out as well. In the midst of his passion, he managed to stifle it.

  Wrapping her arms about him, she rocked against him, fisting him with her warm flesh, using her inner muscles to milk his member.

  Only Nick wasn’t yet willing to surrender.

  “Hold onto me,” he said. Standing, he brought them both off the bed.

  Still inside her, he carried her across the room to the wall. Bracing her against it, he pulled out and sank back into her, faster and harder, slamming into her again and again, marking her with kisses and bruises, claiming her with his hands and mouth and cock, determined that whatever the next few days brought, they would both remember this night, these moments, this joy, for the rest of their lives.

  For the time being, the world reduced to their mutual moaning, to the slapping together of damp flesh, to the fevered look in Stefanie’s eyes just before she threw her head back against the wall and screamed. One word. His name.

  “Nick!”

  Her legs slackened around him. Holding her in place, Nick pulled out and sank in, releasing all the past week’s hopes and dreams and desires in one final, cosmically splintering thrust. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Stefanie’s and let his climax claim them both.

  …

  Tuesday, July 8

  Lying in Stefanie’s bed, covered by her quilt, Nick pulled up on one elbow and looked down at her. Her head tucked into his shoulder and her curvy body molded to his side, she was the picture of innocence and sexual satiation.

  It was a compelling combination.

  She looked like a Greek version of one of Mara’s fairy-tale princesses, lips softly parted as if in preparation for true love’s awakening kiss, silky, dark hair spilling over the snowy-white bed linens. Unable to resist, he reached out and smoothed the pillow crease on her cheek.

  Her eyelids fluttered and then lifted. “Hi, you,” she said with a smile, her voice raw from sex and sleep.

  He smiled down at her. “Kalimera,” he answered, though the sky beyond her sheer curtains was still pitch-dark.

  Her sleepy look vanished. She pushed up on one elbow, her gaze going to the window. “But it’s still dark out,” she protested, turning back to him. “Stay.” Wrapping her arms around him, she hauled him back against her, her breasts brushing his back—a temptress determined not to take no for an answer.

  “It is almost three in the morning.”

  “Three! But what about Mara?”

  Nick hesitated. “Back in the restaurant when you excused yourself to use the ladies room, I er…texted the babysitter and asked if she could stay the night.”

  Stefanie slanted him a look. “You were that sure of me, huh?”

  “No, but I was…hopeful.”

  Banking his pillow against the headboard, he settled back, bringing her with him. “Still, I do not want Mara to wake up and find me gone.”

  She turned to look up at him, the motion causing the sheet to slip. “I understand. Of course you have to go.”

  “I will…in another few minutes.” He spotted the faint blue bruise blooming atop of her left breast and quietly cursed himself. Reaching over, he touched it tenderly. “I am a beast. I was too fierce in my passion. I have hurt you.”

  She caught at his hand. The press of her lips to his palm moved him deeply. “No more than I wanted you to. And you didn’t exactly escape unscathed, either.” She reached up, trailing fingers along the side of his neck. “I hope you don’t mind hickeys.”

  Knowing he was branded with her love bite made him smile. “You can mark me as you wish, but in the future I will take care to be gentler.” Belatedly it occurred to him that their “future” was now fewer than two days. Unless, of course, he could come to a reasonable resolution with her father.

  A shimmy of creamy shoulders answered the promise. “I’d rather be treated like a woman than a china doll.”

  He studied her face, scoured of makeup and unbelievably beautiful. “How is it you are still unmarried?”

  Her gaze shuttered. “I was engaged for a while but it…didn’t work out. There hasn’t been anyone since, or really anyone I was serious about before. What…what about you?”

  “I have never asked a woman to marry me but there have been…relationships.”

  “I know, mostly with models and actresses.” She hesitated and then admitted, “I read your Wikipedia entry.”

  Though hardly surprised, Nick didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused. Blogs and articles on his past life seemed almost to describe another person, a stranger.

  He leaned over and kissed the frown furrowing her forehead. “Those other women, they are as ghosts to me now,” he said with feeling.

  She drew back. Earnest eyes looked into his. “But you brought condoms with you.”

  So she still didn’t trust him, not completely. Nick didn’t blame her, but whatever happened or didn’t happen between them after Thursday, he couldn’t bear that she might look back on him as a player.

  “I bought them yesterday from the hotel gift shop…for us.” It was the absolute truth.

  Lifting her head from his shoulder, she asked, “The hotel gift shop sells condoms?”

  He nodded, fighting a smile. “With the shaving cream and toothpaste.”

  “So you really were sure of me!”

  He hesitated. “Hopeful—and feeling most unfortunate at the moment.” He bent and pressed a kiss atop her shoulder.

  Her expression softened. Threading her fingers through the hair on his chest, she asked, “Do you really have to work today?”

  “Alas, I do.”

  The answer came with real regret. The teleconference had been arranged before he’d decided to make this trip and involved several powerful influencers in the international development community. As much as he might wish to reschedule, doing so would be beyond irresponsible.

  “But we still have this evening,” he added. It would be his last chance to woo her before the Wednesday meeting, and he had every intention of making it count. “I would very much like to take you out again, that is, if you do not have other plans,” he added, not wanting her to think that because they’d slept together, he took her for granted.

  She brightened. “Yes, I’m free, and I would love to go out on a proper date with you. But what do you call last night, this?”

  Leaning over, he lightly touched his lips to hers. “I call it practice.”

  …

  For the first time in years, Stefanie didn’t set a wake-up time. When she awoke again, it was noon. Noon. She bolted upright, belatedly remembering there was no need to rush. Staying put, she stretched, deliciously sore in all the very best places. Her rumpled bedding smelled of Nick. She buried her nose in the pillow he’d occupied and closed her eyes, replaying the night in her mind.

  The sex had been incredible, mind blowing. For the first time in her life, she’d forgotten to fret about the circumference of her waist or the cellulite dimpling the backs of her thighs. She forgot to worry about any of those things because Nick had made her feel utterly cherished, breathtakingly beautiful. Already she was counting the hours until she would see him again. Once their evening began, however, it would be hard not to will time to stand still. Tomorrow was Wednesday, the day set aside for the meeting with her father. As much as she wanted to stay positive, Stefanie didn’t see how there would be any more dates, proper or otherwise, before Nick flew home on Thursday morning.

  A knock on her front door sent her springing out of bed and rushing to find her robe. Throwing it on,
she hurried down the stairs, tying the belt on her way.

  A courier bearing a long white box tied with a bright red ribbon stood on her stoop. “Stefanie Stefanopoulos?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” She reached out to take the clipboard and pen.

  She signed, and he took back the clipboard and handed her the box, too big to be flowers. “Have a good day, ma’am.”

  She would wager the client list for Good Enuf to Eat that the box held a gift from Nick. Really, who else could it be? Curious to see what was inside, she nodded. “Thanks, you too.”

  She closed the door with her hip and walked into the kitchen. Setting the present atop the counter, she slid off the ribbon, too pretty to cut, and lifted off the lid.

  Oh. My. God.

  Wrapped in red tissue paper, a scarlet satin gown lay inside. Feeling as though she were living a dream, better yet a fairy tale, she lifted it out and held it up. The label was designer, the size exactly hers. Though formalwear could be tricky, she had the sense it was going to fit—perfectly. Holding it against herself, she took a few turns about the bricked floor. The long flared train swept the floor—a fairy-princess gown, indeed.

  A folded note on thick, cream-colored stationery was still in the box. Pulse skipping, she broke the seal and read:

  A gown for a goddess. I will send a driver for you at six. Until then—

  Yours, Nick

  Nick wasn’t hers, not yet. But despite all the obstacles in their path, Stefanie determined to hold onto the hope that somehow, magically, he might be.

  Chapter Eight

  The temptation to try on the dress had proven too great to resist. Unfortunately, doing so had made Stefanie late for her Starbucks meet-up with Macie. Hurrying over to their table, she said, “Coffee’s on me. What would you like?”

  Macie looked up from her e-reader and smiled. “Since you’re buying, make my Splenda latte a venti.”

  A few minutes later, Stefanie settled back in with her café mocha and Macie’s latte. Taking a sip of her drink, Macie eyed her. “You look…different.”

  Stefanie forced a shrug. “That’s the point of a makeover, isn’t it?”

  Her friend wasn’t fooled. “You’ve had sex!”

  “Shush!” Mortified, Stefanie darted her gaze about the crowded cafe.

  Lowering her voice, Macie leaned over and said, “You slept with Nick Costas.”

  Knowing that denial was pointless, Stefanie nodded. “Guilty as charged.” Hours later, she still couldn’t stop smiling. Even with all the worries and unknowns still weighing on her mind, she felt sort of…wonderful.

  “So?” Macie prompted, “How was it? Judging from the way you’re glowing, I’d say it must have been pretty freakin’ amazing.”

  Blushing, Stefanie admitted, “It was.”

  “So when are you seeing him again?”

  Stefanie sat back. “Tonight. He wants to take me on another date.” She couldn’t imagine anything topping the previous night, but the gown he’d sent certainly suggested the evening he had planned would be special as well as formal. Was he intending for tonight to be a last hurrah—or the start of something new and wonderful?

  Macie’s smile dimmed. “What is it? What’s with the face?”

  For the first time since the night before when Nick had swept her off her feet—literally—Stefanie felt her spirits hit a lull. “I just wish we had more…time. He goes back to Greece on Thursday.”

  She didn’t mention tomorrow’s meeting or the reason for it. Macie was her best friend, but some things were best kept among family. So far as her friend knew, she’d only been playing tour guide to her father’s business associate.

  Setting down her coffee, Macie shrugged. “You’ve been talking about going to Greece ever since I’ve known you, so buy a plane ticket and visit him.”

  Macie had a knack for making everything seem so straightforward, so simple. “You think?”

  Macie nodded. “I don’t think. I know. But it’s still only Tuesday. Take it from me, a lot can happen in twenty-four hours. The best approach is to stay positive about the present. Speaking of which, what are you wearing tonight?”

  Perking up, Stefanie reached into her bag and took out her phone. “He bought me a dress.”

  “Get outta here!”

  “No, I’m serious.” She brought up the picture she’d taken of the dress hanging on her closet door and handed over the phone.

  Macie’s eyes popped. “That’s not just a dress. That’s a dress.”

  “I know, I know. And Mace, it’s…Vera Wang.” Even Stefanie recognized the famous designer.

  Grinning, Macie said, “With most men you’d be lucky to get a text message next day, flowers if he’s really into you. This guy sends a designer gown. He doesn’t do anything by half measures, does he?”

  “No, he certainly doesn’t,” Stefanie agreed with a sigh, thinking back to all the ways he’d made love to her last night.

  “If you need it altered, I know a fab tailor who does same-day turnarounds for special clients. I’ll text you the info. Be sure to tell him I sent you.”

  Stefanie felt her smile widening. “Thanks but I tried it on—that’s why I was late—and it fits me per-fect-ly. I don’t even need shapewear!” The latter almost made her giddy.

  Macie shot her an I-told-you-so look. “That’s awesome.”

  “I’m not sure how he knew my size, but he did.”

  She stopped there. After the sexy night they’d shared, Nick must be intimately familiar with every inch of her. Or perhaps he’d looked in her closet before leaving. That he’d thought of her after leaving her bed certainly seemed like a positive sign.

  A gown for the goddess you are.

  “Have you worn the shoes yet?” Macie asked. “The Cinderella slippers,” she prompted.

  “There really hasn’t been an occasion.”

  Macie grinned. “Well, there is now. They’ll be stunning with this dress.”

  “You’re right. They will be,” Stefanie agreed. The shoes were still in their elaborate box, tucked onto a shelf at the back of her closet. Until now, she’d as good as forgotten them.

  But they were definitely coming out of the closet tonight. She hoped whatever pixie dust or other magic they possessed would be enough to rub off on Nick and her both.

  …

  Waking up in Stefanie’s bed had been a wake-up call for Nick in more ways than one. Despite the hot sex they’d had, and her obvious enthusiasm, he sensed that apart from her fiancé she hadn’t much prior experience. Considering she must be in her late twenties, that carried her as close to virgin status as a non-virgin could come. She was the sort of woman a man took for his wife, for the mother of his children, not for casual sex.

  There had been nothing casual about last night.

  Lying beside her that morning, his arms wrapped around her curvy body and his face buried in her fragrant hair, he’d felt closer to peace than he could ever remember being. Warmhearted, funny, and wonderful with Mara, she was unlike any woman he’d ever dated. And as good as she was in the kitchen, last night had demonstrated that she was even better in the bedroom. He wasn’t sure how or even if she fit into his life, especially after Wednesday’s contentious meeting, but after last night he was determined not to let her slip away without a fight.

  He’d begun by buying the dress. A quick glance in Stefanie’s closet once she’d slipped back to sleep had confirmed her size. As to the color, there had been only one thought in Nick’s mind: red. Returning to the hotel, he’d waited for the concierge desk to reopen at nine, and then given the man the details along with his credit-card information, a short list of preferred designers, and his preferred color—red. The hotel’s recommended personal shopper had taken it from there, including arranging the delivery. Nick’s online check of the tracking number confirmed that the gift had been delivered and signed for. Seeing Stefanie’s signature on the scanned document, he’d felt his pulse quickening. Imagining how beautiful sh
e would look dressed—and undressed—had him counting down the hours.

  The teleconference with the other international investors would take up most of the day. Seated at the secretary desk, his laptop open and reports of charts and graphs fanned out in front of him, Nick started when house phone rang.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Costas,” the hotel desk clerk apologized, “but there is a Ms. Stefanopoulos here to see you. Shall I send her up?”

  At the mention of Stefanie, Nick’s heart began revving like the engine of the expensive car he’d raced at the Indy 500 in his daredevil days. Had she rethought their second date? Had his gift offended her in some way? “Yes, please, provide her with the elevator code.”

  He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it, vaguely aware that he was nervous. It wasn’t like Stefanie to drop in. She must have something important to say. Nick only hoped it wasn’t a preemptive good-bye.

  The suite doorbell sounded. “Coming,” he called out. He crossed the carpet to answer it, tucking in his shirt on the way.

  He opened the door. “Jacquie,” he managed to get out, staring down at Stefanie’s stepmother. Heart plummeting, he stepped back for her to enter. “This is a surprise.”

  Sporting a white fur coat, black jeans, and thigh-high boots, and wearing red lipstick far too bright to flatter a woman of her years, she sauntered inside. “No doubt you were expecting my stepdaughter.”

  Nick didn’t deny it. Why should he? Stefanie was a grown woman and free to spend time where and with whom she wished. Beyond that, from everything he’d so far seen, Jacquie had never bothered to be anything near a mother to her.

  “Nice digs,” she observed, her crassness setting Nick’s teeth on edge. Looking around, she seemed to catalog the suite’s every nook and cranny. “Fresh flowers make all the difference.” She plucked a calla lily from the vase. Twirling the flower, she added, “Back when I was working full-time as a realtor, I always made sure all my showings were staged with fresh flowers in every room. The smell of baking cookies and fresh wall paint helps, too,” she added with a piercing laugh.