by Alison Kent
Trey was not so reticent. “Sneaking off to make love?” he finished for her. He spun her around in his arms, so that she had to face him. His eyes searched hers. “You made it clear you won’t come to Paris with me.”
“Trey, I can’t—“
He laid a finger against her lips, stopping her words. “I know, I know. You have your reasons, and although you don’t believe me, I do respect that. I won’t push you again.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, not sure she respected her choices as much as he did, not sure she wanted the question closed so completely. What did that leave them? Was this his way of saying he would walk out of the party and out of her life as soon as the coast was clear?
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, dipping his head to touch her lips with his, so briefly and sweetly it took her breath away. “Susannah, we both know I’m leaving in the morning, so there can’t be a tomorrow for us.”
He crooked a finger under her chin, tipping her head up, staring right into her eyes with the full force of his seductive, electric blue eyes. “What do you say, Susannah? I know you won’t give me tomorrow, but will you give me tonight?”
Chapter Fifteen
In the full flush of passion, Susannah had actually considered running away to an unoccupied bathroom on the far side of the penthouse and making mad, crazy love with Trey Jameson. Now, after he had literally dumped cold water on the idea—or at least on her ring finger, long enough to remove her engagement ring—she wasn’t so sure.
“I have to get back to the party,” she hedged, trying to back up far enough to reach the door handle, needing to be away from Trey and out of this intimate space.
“But I thought you wanted…”
To be alone. To make love. To give in to this incredible dizziness and desire. She’d thought so, too. Until sanity had returned. She gripped Carter’s ring inside her fist. She might not have a romantic future. But she had a small chance at keeping her career prospects on track.
“Somewhere out there,” she declared, “my ex-fiancé has hopefully gotten tired of looking for you and gone back to trailing around after Mr. Manley, one of the two presidents of the company. While Joan, my boss, has glommed onto the other one, Mr. Marceau. If I had a brain, that’s what I would be doing as well. Looking out for my career and my future. I came after you instead. But you’re safe now.” She jiggled the knob behind her back, trying to work the lock so she could escape gracefully. “And I can go back to what I should be doing. Without you.”
But his hand closed over hers. “Are you sure that’s really what you want? You’re free of Carter. Why not take your chance to be completely free, to gamble on something better than being a corporate drone?”
“Oh, no. Don’t start this again,” she said angrily, ducking under his arm and pacing in the small bathroom. “I already told you, I want to go places and be someone. What’s wrong with that? You said you respected my choice. Just because that isn’t your dream is no reason—“
“I don’t think that is what you want,” he argued.
“Trey, I’m sorry, but you don’t get to say what I want, okay?”
“But you’re the one who suggested—“
Suggested sneaking off for a romantic interlude that turned into hand-washing. Yeah. Delish. “I changed my mind,” she shot back.
Shaking her head, she slipped around him, now totally intent on leaving, as he reached out a hand to try to catch her shoulder. But all he caught was the thin beaded strap of her gown.
As she flashed past, he pulled the opposite direction. They both heard the “ping” of her strap breaking and the “zing” of tiny crystal beads flying every which way. She stumbled backward, he held on to the remains of her strap, and a hunk of fabric decided to go his way in this tug-of-war. A nasty rrrip sounded as the bodice of her thin silk dress slashed wide open.
Susannah gazed down in horror. Her breast was completely exposed. A fact that had not escaped Trey, whose eyes were absolutely glued to the spot.
Chapter Sixteen
In a moment, a mere second, everything had changed, as the mood in their small hideaway seemed to darken and shift. The air crackled with the reverberations of that ripping sound.
“I—I’m sorry,” Trey managed, although his words came out kind of choked and strangled.
“Oh my god!” Dropping Carter’s ring, letting it roll away somewhere on the floor, she clamped her hand over her bare breast. Her other strap still held, but she was uncovered all the way from her neck to her hip, all in one fell swoop of ripped red fabric.
“No, I’m not sorry. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said raggedly. “Susannah, there is no way in hell you’re walking away from me. Not now. Not when we both feel this way.”
She didn’t ask what he meant or how he felt. She already knew. How did they both feel? On fire, enraptured, entangled, out of their minds.
His fingers brushed the torn edge of her gown, sending shivers down her body. It was the scorching look in his eyes, the smoky tone in his voice, the way his hand shook as he lifted it to touch her…All of it seemed to mix together and overpower her, dissolving her good intentions. Before she knew what had happened, her resolve had vanished, and renewed hunger pooled deep inside her, pulling her back to Trey.
Her back against the door, Susannah surged into him, wrapping her arms around him, as his lips and teeth found her neck and ear and jaw. They were both desperate and greedy in their desire to touch and feel and taste. His hand moved over her breast and ribs, closing on her nipple, making her ache with longing, and she shoved her hands inside his shirt, popping buttons, pushing the stiff white fabric out of her way, loving the feel of him, so smooth and yet so hard.
As his tongue flicked over the taut tip of her breast, Susannah moaned, giving in to the incredible sensations, wanting him, wanting to be with him, no matter what it took. She slipped her hand to his belt and then to the clasp of his jeans, rubbing her hand down his rigid length. Things between them were getting out of control fast, but somehow it didn’t matter. She knew what she wanted. Him.
Melting, she began to slide down the door, but Trey’s embrace tightened. He shifted her around, away from the door, boosting her onto the marble vanity, the trailing skirt of her gown scrunched up under her, with his sweet, warm, wet mouth still slanted over hers. He broke away for just a second, staring into her eyes.
He may have been wordless, but he was still asking a question, giving her an out if she wanted to take it. Did she know what she was doing? Did she care?
“I—I think I love you, Trey,” she whispered. “Could you please make love to me? Now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Trey smiled. He reached for her. She reached for him, too, almost falling off the sink in her haste to be with him. He reached under her skirt, stripping her thong off all the way down her legs and over her shoes in one fluid motion, tossing it aside, as she scrambled to get his zipper down. Frantic, frenzied, clumsy—it didn’t matter. He brushed her hands away and took care of his own zipper, still kissing her, devouring her, as he positioned himself between her thighs.
Susannah gripped his shoulders, tangling her legs around his waist, urging him in. She simply couldn’t find a way to hold him tightly enough.
He plunged, she took everything he had, and twisted together, precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, they began to find their rhythm. Susannah’s pleasure and need climbed and climbed with every thrust. It was almost too good, too hard, too devastating, and she didn’t know how long she could stand it, to have so much sensation, so many feelings, all tumbling on top of each other.
Finally finding release, she shattered into an incredible, mind-blowing climax. And shouts and cheers and another countdown began somewhere outside their small paradise.
Trey still stroked inside her, as if pushed on by the applause. What in the world was happening? Ten, nine, eight…Oh, god, she was hovering on the brink again. Five, four, thre
e…Was she hallucinating? “One,” she cried out. “One!” Tremors rippled through her. “Oh, yesss, yesss….”
His arms were so tight around her she could barely breathe, but Trey tipped his forehead into hers. Gasping for air, he began to laugh, too. “Happy New Year,” he said with a great deal of amusement. “What a way to bring in the New Year, huh?”
“Were there really cheers? Did I really hear the countdown again?” she asked, totally confused, but too satisfied and dazed to really care.
“Good timing, Susannah. It must’ve been the West Coast celebration.” He shook his head, touching the few remaining bits of glitter in her hair. “And I really did see stars. I’m not sure I believe it myself. I make love to the most beautiful and exciting woman I’ve ever met, I get a countdown to ecstasy and I see stars. How lucky can you get?”
She sagged into him, not sure whether to laugh or cry, whether to be embarrassed at how wild and noisy she’d been or just very, very happy.
“We’d better get you down from there,” Trey commented softly, giving her a hand.
As he scrounged his shirt up off the floor and zipped himself back up into his jeans, Susannah tried her land legs. How nice to know she actually could still stand up. She hadn’t been sure.
“What next?” she asked him.
His smile was lazy with contentment, but he found her hand and raised it to his lips. “Where can we possibly go from here?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer or even think of a possible response. Voices and loud footsteps interrupted them, as if the entire Hotel Marceau New Year’s party had decided to take up residence outside their door.
“Susannah?” a voice she recognized as Carter’s bellowed, followed by insistent pounding on the door. “Are you in there? Darling, we’re here to save you. I’ll kick down the door if I have to.”
Rejecting panic and moving onto hysteria, Susannah looked down at her ripped dress, all twisted around her body, at the pair of panties in her hand, at Trey in his shirt with most of the buttons torn off.
They were in deep, deep trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
“Susannah? Open the door! We don’t want to have to break in, but we will if we have to.”
Preparing for the onslaught, Susannah tried to hold the pieces of her dress together, but it was a losing battle. Without comment, Trey slipped his jacket around her shoulders, buttoning down the front of it.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
And then he kissed her cheek, whispered, “It will be okay,” and opened the door.
Carter almost fell in, backtracked and stumbled into Joan, Kerry, Mr. Manley and Mr. Marceau, along with about twenty other people who had gathered out there. Carter’s eyes swept up and down her unorthodox outfit. He couldn’t seem to stop blinking.
“We were so worried about you,” Joan said with saccharine sweetness. She squeezed in front of Mr. Marceau, who looked more mystified than mortified, bless his heart. Joan went on, “We thought you’d been stolen away from the party by a criminal.” Slyly, she asked, “Or is that not what happened, Susannah?”
“N-no.” She pressed her lips together as she tried to think of a way to explain this. No. There simply wasn’t any explanation. “I—I wasn’t stolen. And he isn’t a criminal. Just a misunderstanding. Just…”
“Too much champagne. New Year’s Eve,” Trey interceded. “I take complete responsibility. All my fault. I should know better than to take advantage of a tipsy woman.”
Since he was standing there with his shirt hanging open, Susannah figured he didn’t have any more credibility than she did, but, hey, at least he was in there swinging. “He’s right,” she piped up. “A, uh, romantic interlude. Most unfortunate.” It was at that point that she spotted her panties crumpled near her foot, and not far away, her ex-engagement ring. Wasn’t that ironic?
Trey edged in front of her, blocking the doorway. “We don’t really need a crowd, do we? Would everyone mind moving along now?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Carter blustered.
As most of the other onlookers disbanded, casting back glances filled with a mixture of sympathy and horror, Susannah quickly bent and gathered the ring and her undies, stuffing the thong in the pocket of Trey’s jacket and holding out the ring to Carter. “I think you’d better take this,” she said awkwardly. “I’ve been trying to do this all night. But, anyway, I don’t want to marry you.”
“Did you really think I still wanted to marry you?” he said savagely, grabbing the ring off her extended palm and shoving it into his own pocket. “After the way you’ve behaved tonight?” He seemed to have more to say, but he choked it back, stalking away, trailed by Mr. Manley, who was patting him on the shoulder and offering condolences.
“Well, I guess he got what he wanted,” Trey noted cynically. “Manley is his big pal now.”
Susannah didn’t know where to go or what to do. “This is so terrible, beyond my worst expectation of what terrible could be,” she mumbled, lifting a weak hand to her head.
“Susannah, don’t you see? It’s perfect.” Trey was actually laughing.
What in the world was wrong with him?
“Come on!” he said happily. “You have to see now how much we belong together.” He took her by the arms. “No fiancé, no job, a man who is crazy about you and with whom you just had amazing sex. What’s not to like? So now will you run away to Paris with me?”
Chapter Nineteen
This time, when she slapped him across the face, she meant it. She meant it for him. Nobody else.
“You’re as bad as Carter,” she yelled, smacking him on the shoulder for good measure. Trey ducked, trying to shield himself, but she knew she’d made her point.
“Come on, Susannah. I’m nothing like that jerk,” he scoffed.
“No? He didn’t love me, but he thought if he dangled a fancy engagement ring in front of my face, he could buy someone who would validate and support his dream of being a big honcho inside Manley & Marceau,” she said smartly, just starting to get wound up. “It didn’t matter what my dreams were or whether I minded if he didn’t call or didn’t care or left me at the bottom of his priority list.”
“Exactly,” Trey agreed, “and I didn’t do any of that!”
“I fell for you, hard. I really thought I loved you. I admit, your plan was a little more devious.” She clutched his jacket over her front, wishing it didn’t smell like him, didn’t make her want him all over again. Damn jacket. “You thought you could bewitch me with fabulous sex,” she argued, “and earn yourself someone—wife, playmate, whatever—to validate and support your dream of being a romantic expatriate in Paris.”
There was a long pause. “Did you really think the sex was fabulous?” he inquired hopefully.
“Yes,” she shot back. “It was fabulous, okay? Gold star for you!” Pulling together the shreds of her pride, she added, “But it doesn’t matter. I will not be bought, not by a diamond and not by fabulous sex.”
“Susannah, I don’t get this,” he said in a bewildered tone. “I do love you. I know it’s crazy and sudden and unexpected, but I do love you. And I want you with me, not to support my dream, but because I want you with me. I know I can’t promise it would work. Who can ever promise? All I can do is try. Susannah…”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing his lips into hers with what struck her as one last, desperate attempt to convince her. She held her breath and tried to be strong. Don’t let him get to you.
“Sometimes,” he whispered, “you have to take the risk. You have to gamble on someone. Sometimes you have to have faith that your destiny is right there, waiting, and it will all fall into place the right way if you just reach out and embrace it.”
He really was good at this. But Susannah thought about the Hotel Marceau and how much she liked her job and how much she would mourn losing it. She thought about the expressions on the faces of the people she worked with, all lined up to see her humil
iation when the door to the powder room swung open. “Embrace my destiny,” she spat out. “Oh, and will the Easter bunny and Santa help me with that embrace?”
But Trey was still in there, trying. “I know it seems like a big leap, but…I’m asking you to gamble on me.” His smile was rakish. “And I can promise lots of fabulous sex.”
That was all she needed. “No thanks,” she said coldly, already moving past him, ready to close the door.
“Susannah…Take the risk.”
But she walked away.
Chapter Twenty
She actually had a glimmer of hope she might make it to the elevator without getting caught, but luck was not on her side. Big surprise. It was Joan, her boss, who stepped into her path.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this,” Susannah told her. “I have to find my coat and get out of here.”
“This is important.” Joan twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. “I’m going to be brutally honest here, Suze. I thought once we caught you, in flagrante, so to speak, that would be the end of you at the Hotel Marceau.”
Couldn’t anyone make anything easy on her tonight? Not anyone? “You don’t need to fire me, Joan. I’ll just quit and take my besmirched little self out of the hotel right now, okay?”
“No. Not okay.” Joan crossed her arms over her narrow chest, giving Susannah the once-over. “I was chatting with Paul Marceau after the, uh, incident, and he…Well, he’s French, what can I say? He thought you were all, you know, mistreated and put upon, toujours l’amour, all that, and he wants to poach you for the Paris hotel, blah blah blah.”
Susannah saw stars again, and this time she knew there was no more glitter left in her hair. “He wants to what?”
