Some Like It Hotter

by Isabel Sharpe

  But if she didn’t do something soon, she was going to cry all over him and tell him she loved him, and that was a really bad idea.

  So instead she fell forward onto her arms and moved her hips slowly, up and back again, her moisture lubricating his penis so her body slid faster, becoming more and more aroused by the feel of his hard heat between her legs.

  “Oh. Man. That is— I—” Ames lifted his head, let it fall back with a cross between a sigh and a groan, obviously giving up on communication. “Yeah.”

  Eva grinned, tears no longer threatening. They were good together. The best. They’d do okay tonight. And tomorrow. The rest she’d worry about later.

  She pushed up off her arms and sat upright, still rocking, stroking her breasts gently, letting him watch her play.

  “Come here.” He took her hips and maneuvered her forward until she was straddling his head.

  “Well.” She looked down at him, struggling not to smile. “What now?”

  His eyes were fixed on her sex, hovering over his mouth. “I can only think of one thing.”

  “Really?” She lowered herself slowly, half an inch at a time, making him wait. “This?”

  He made an inarticulate sound, grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto his mouth.

  Eva drew in a sharp breath between her teeth and let it out on a soft cry, continuing to stroke her breasts while he licked and sucked her ravenously, focusing his attention more and more on her clitoris. Her breathing became labored and harsh. Her thighs started trembling.

  The orgasm grew slowly. Eva clutched his hair, eyes closed, head lolling back, barely aware of what she was doing, where she was. Ames’s lips closed firmly around her clitoris; he slid a finger up inside her, and she was gone with a guttural shout and the delicious burn that pushed her up, then let her down, while she contracted wildly around his fingers.

  “Ames.” She moved off him, collapsed to the floor next to him. “Ames, I think you broke me.”

  “Yeah?” He scrabbled around on the carpet, found a condom somewhere and rolled it onto his still enormous erection. “May I try to fix you?”

  “With that?” She pointed in pretend horror.

  “Well, of course. It’s my very best tool.”

  “Argh! You will have to pay for that horrible pun!” She spread her legs open, arms equally open, inviting him. “Come take your punishment.”

  “Like a man, I will.” He lay over her, his face suddenly serious, ran his hands through her hair, coming up with a still-clinging seal. “You are beautiful, Eva. Amazing. I’m crazy about you.”

  I love you. Her arms went around his neck; he entered her slowly. They made love with gentle rocking, gazing into each other’s eyes, until the feeling was so intense she had to close hers. How could she leave this man? But she couldn’t stay. Not only was California her home, but Chris would be wanting her life and her shop back.

  “Eva.” Her name brought her back. Ames was pushing harder now, breathing harder. He was on his way to coming, and she wanted to be there with him.

  Tilting her pelvis up to create more friction, she bore down hard on him, answering each thrust.

  “Eva.” He held her tightly, muscles straining in his neck and shoulders as his body worked. “You are going to make me come so hard I might break you again.”

  “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Try.”

  A sharp breath turned into a groan and then a shout as his jaw tightened, his thrusts became fierce and fast, then stopped as he came inside her.

  They lay panting for a long while, arms wrapped around each other. Eva refused to allow any thoughts to enter her mind but immense satisfaction, thorough enjoyment of his warm body pressed against hers.

  Finally, Ames lifted his head and glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “I hate to say this, but we should probably get dressed.”

  “Yes.” She loosened her grip, all the complicated thoughts flooding back. All they had to face, tonight and in the next week.

  “Did I break you?” His touch on her face was achingly tender.

  “No.” She forced a smile, ran her fingers through his thick soft hair. No, he hadn’t broken her body. But after tonight there was no more uncertainty. It was totally within his power to break her heart.

  13

  AMES WAITED IN the living room, fully dressed, pacing. Yes, he was nervous. He’d committed himself to taking Eva to the dinner and he had no regrets, nothing but certainty that he’d done the right thing, for her and for himself.

  How his boss, Mr. Boyce, would take Eva was another matter. Ames didn’t like his boss’s ultraconservative attitude toward dress and behavior, but he understood it was part of business, living up to the revered decades-old corporate image of neat, professional appearance as well as integrity of action.

  Nothing said Ames couldn’t become involved with a woman outside Boyce’s narrow definition of what passed for appropriate around clients. It was just that no one else in the company had. Besides the annual client dinner, the only place Ames had seen such elegant gowns was on the red carpet in Hollywood. Total waste of time and money to his way of thinking, but that’s how it was. When he met Eva it had seemed impossible he’d ever be escorting her to an event like this, but for different reasons than the ones he still worried about tonight. Back then he’d worried only about being embarrassed by her. Now he was worried she’d be treated poorly, snubbed, looked down at, whispered about. And that if that happened, he’d lose his cool and cause some kind of scene. He’d already proved to himself over the drunk harassing her that Eva brought out some pretty fierce protective emotions in him.

  Not ingredients that promised a calm evening.

  For his part, he’d made as much of a concession as he could, given the wardrobe limits for men. He’d gone out and bought a tuxedo with a Mandarin collar, not exactly wildly rebellious, but definitely not what other guys at the dinner would be wearing. He’d also kept in his earring, which he never wore for business.

  Maybe he was worrying for nothing. Maybe no one would even blink at Eva’s hair and outrageous clothes. But this was the least he could do to support her, to show her he cared, that she was worth it.

  He paced again, glanced at his watch. Again. Where was she? Would she be wearing a plaid skirt with a glittering striped top and gold lamé platform sneakers?

  Ames grinned. Now that would be something. He would love to see Mrs. Boyce’s face.

  The door to the guest room opened—Eva had insisted on dressing in private.

  “Ready?” He kept his voice calm and cheerful, waiting for her to appear.

  She appeared.

  Ames’s jaw dropped. He looked her over slowly, top to bottom, bottom to top, and just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, top to bottom again.

  She was absolutely beautiful, in a little black dress, hair pulled back in a sleek whatever-it-was-called, and a sexy tiny hat-thing with feathers.

  Beautiful, and flawlessly, stupendously, amazingly...normal. “Eva.” His voice came out low and thick. “You look incredible.”

  “Think so?” She patted her skirt, clearly pleased by his reaction.

  “I’m blown away.”

  “Yeah?” Her smile dazzled him. She was...perfect. For the dinner. And for him.

  “You look handsome, too.” She moved toward him, not her usual loose-limbed gait, but precise, model-worthy steps in high black evening sandals. “I love that tux. Not quite regulation, you rebel. You did that for me, didn’t you?”

  “Sort of.” He was humbled by her, her eyes shining in gratitude when it was he who was incredibly grateful. She’d done this for him. So she wouldn’t embarrass him. So she’d fit in. She’d suppressed her natural impulse to stand out in a crowd.

  For him.

  “You didn’t have to do this, Eva.”

  “Do what?” She blinked innocently.

  He rolled his eyes. “But I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

  “You�

��re welcome.”

  “And I want you to know that if you had shown up in Lady Gaga’s dress made out of meat, I still would have taken you to the dinner proudly.”

  “Including all the dogs and cats who followed me into the restaurant?”

  “Them, too!”

  “That means a lot to me, Ames.” She giggled, but her eyes were glowing with sincerity and affection...and more? He hoped so. He desperately hoped so. Though what they were going to do about these growing feelings if she was leaving next week...

  “Let’s go.” He offered her his arm, heart bursting with pride, and a certain amount of relief, yes—he was only human. This dinner wouldn’t make or break his career, but he hadn’t been looking forward to making it a battleground.

  They took a taxi to La Grenouille Laide, on Fifty-First Street near Seventh Avenue, holding hands. Tightly. Not speaking much. When had he ever known Eva to be this quiet? He was annoyed at himself for putting her through this.

  “It’s not going to be that bad.”

  “No, no, I know.” She smiled bravely, which made his heart flip over in his chest. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to go, that they could play hooky, get a beer and burger at P.J. Clarke’s on Fifty-Fifth and Third.

  But this evening was important to them as a couple. No question, his feelings for Eva were deepening, becoming more and more significant. But if they couldn’t navigate each other’s worlds, their relationship would eventually be doomed to isolation and lack of communication. While opposites attracting made for romantic press, there had to be some common ground and understanding or they could end up circling each other without a true connection.

  Really, no pressure, though.

  The cab pulled up at the restaurant. Ames paid the driver, got out and offered a hand to Eva, who took it and emerged from the cab with effortless controlled grace. Who was this woman? She was fantastic. She could even walk naturally on high, spiky heels, one of those mysterious female talents men would never understand.

  “Ready?” He offered her his arm to walk into the restaurant.

  Her smile was demure. She inclined her head graciously and took his arm. “Never in a million years.”

  A snort of laughter escaped him before he could get his poker face on. “Très bien, mademoiselle. Allons-y.”

  “Ah, oui, blah, blah, blah!”

  Giggling, they marched into the restaurant, a relaxed and elegant room in gold, beige and cream with well-spaced tables and waitstaff as far as the eye could see. Ames identified himself to the maître d’, who pointed them toward a back room.

  Inside, the usual crowd, gowned and jeweled, suited or tuxedoed.

  “My, how the masses sparkle,” he murmured to Eva.

  “Please don’t refer to them as the masses. They hate that,” she whispered back.

  “Champagne?” A waiter swooped by with a tray, then swooped away.

  “Cheers.” Ames clinked glasses with Eva and led her over to meet his boss.

  Mr. Boyce loved her. Mrs. Boyce loved her. His clients loved her. And why not? She was polite, charming, listened well, asked good questions and reacted in ways that made her conversation partners feel important and interesting.

  During the excellent dinner, she used all the right silverware from the bewildering array, sipped and commented on the wines with intelligence and perceptiveness clearly stemming from her vast experience smelling, tasting and judging coffees. She could even use some of the wine crowd’s favorite vocabulary—mouthfeel, acidity, finish; clean, buttery, grassy, fruity; chocolate, earth, tobacco—with clear authority.

  He was damned impressed. More so when she turned the tables on these wine experts and talked about the coffee-roasting process, taking them from the natural green bean through different stages, defined by visual cues and temperature and sound—the lighter roasts, cinnamon, New England and American to the medium roasts, City, Full City and Vienna, to the dark roasts, French, Italian and finally Spanish—discussing the changes in flavor.

  She was a hit. He’d had nothing to worry about, and felt ashamed and embarrassed that he ever had been— except that like all couples, they were learning about each other by encountering different circumstances together.

  The most ironic part of the evening was that after all that worry, Ames missed the Eva he knew. He felt as if he’d forced her to crawl into a little box without enough air. He wanted to see her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, to see her jump up and suggest a game of musical chairs or a group trip to a karaoke bar. Come on everyone, let’s party!

  He loved her. Her spirit, her liveliness and that endless sense of fun. And he wanted a serious shot at finding out what they could be together.

  How, he had no idea. Unless his company started selling wines from central California, he’d have very little opportunity to visit her. And her job didn’t allow for extensive travel.

  How long could you keep up a serious relationship on Skype?

  More to the point, who would want a serious relationship on Skype? It would be one thing if one or the other of them was planning to relocate, and keeping in touch by phone and computer was a second-best stopgap measure. But they didn’t know each other well enough to make such a major decision. And they were already running out of time.

  He’d have to let this woman go.

  Immediately, rage filled him, along with determination. No. No way. He wasn’t going to give up that easily on something so precious and promising.

  A few couples got up to leave. Ames put his hand on Eva’s back to get her attention, loving the intimacy of touching her. “Ready to go?”

  She turned to him, flushed, eyes sparkling brilliantly. “About three hours ago.”

  He chuckled and kissed her. “I owe you. Let’s go home.”

  “Okay.” She blinked sweetly. “Can we do naughty things to each other?”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, we definitely can. Let’s go now.” Grabbing her hand, he stood and murmured polite words to the couples seated near them, then pulled Eva over to say good-night and thank-you to the Boyces before he touched base with a few important clients. Then he dragged her down toward Seventh Avenue to hail a taxi home.

  A block from the restaurant, practically running to keep up with him, Eva tore off her fascinator and shook out her hair, letting the long waves shine under the streetlights.

  “I feel so free!”

  He laughed in delight, picked her up and swung her around. “You are the best and most fabulous woman in the world. I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful you were in there.”

  Eva shrugged, clearly giddy with relief. “I just imitated Chris and Natalie and all those hot, perfect women you should be with.”

  “I’m with the right woman, Eva.” He kissed her, not feeling playful anymore. “After tonight I’m more sure than ever.”

  She put her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly annoyed. “For God’s sake, you’re not proposing, are you?”

  “Ha!” He picked her up and ran with her, a rush of adrenaline giving him the strength of ten thousand men. “No, I’m not proposing, Eva, my love!”

  She shrieked with laughter. “Thank God for that, my dearest darling!”

  He put her down, grinning at amused pedestrians. They crossed the street, and he hailed a cab. The city was theirs tonight, the air mild, the night young. But all he wanted to do was get Eva home and show her how he felt about her.

  You know, in a guy way.

  A cab stopped, and they crawled in, still breathless. Ames gave his address to the cab driver, who grunted and pulled out into traffic.

  He wrapped his arm around Eva’s shoulders. “You know, it never occurred to me how similar our businesses are until I heard you teaching those people a thing or two about tasting.”

  “Those people?” she scoffed. “I taught them nothing. My sister or my dad could really blow their minds.”

  He pulled her closer. “You were great.”

  “Yeah?” She kissed him. “I can go back and put on my clown suits again now?”

  “Only if they’re low cut and slit up to about—” he put his hand on her thigh, which was so warm and firm he decided it would be criminal not to keep touching it “—here.”

  “You’d like that?”

  “I would.” He held her gaze, sliding his hand up her black stockings, which he was extremely happy to discover when his fingers encountered soft skin, turned out to be thigh-highs. He kept his hand moving, loving the way her body grew tense, waiting, her eyes dark and expectant on his.

  And then the joke was on him. And on everyone at the party who thought she was a proper and refined young woman.

  She wasn’t wearing panties.

  His cock hardened. He wanted to haul her onto his lap and thrust up into her, watching her get closer and closer to coming, steaming up the windows while the cab driver kept his eyes on the road and the city went on around them.

  Eva gasped as his fingers explored her. She was soft, warm and wet. His erection grew painful.

  “I think you’re going to kill me, Eva.”

  “That would be unfortunate,” she whispered. “Because I really want you to keep touching me.”

  He groaned. “Just try and stop—”

  “Hey! Are youse gettin’ outta my cab or what?”

  Ames jumped, whipping his hand back into his lap. Eva clapped her hand over her mouth and fumbled for the door, suppressed giggles escaping.

  “Uh, yeah.” Ames pulled out his wallet and handed over some bills. “Sorry about that.”

  “Jeez.” The driver handed back change, muttering something Ames was not even curious to hear.

  He joined Eva on the sidewalk and took her hand. “See what you do to me? I have never in my life forgotten to get out of a cab.”

  “Gosh, I feel so bad.” She rolled her eyes, making him smile. He loved that she kept him from taking himself—and his life—too seriously, that she could find the fun in any situation, no matter how embarrassing.

  -->