The ornate reception area was filled with opulent velvet sofas and potted palms. When she gave her name, the receptionist presented her with a key, and an envelope that bore her name.
"Monsieur Bordino will return shortly. The room is on the second floor. If there's anything you need, please let me know or call room service."
"Thank you," she murmured, and glanced inside the envelope. It contained a slip of paper. She walked to the elevator. When the doors closed, she slid the paper out.
Soon.
The one word was written in large, slanted letters across the page, underscored with a determined line, and signed with his name. She smiled and curled the piece of paper in her hand.
The brass key fob bore the room number and when she unlocked it she paused as the door swung open. She wanted him to be there, but he wasn't. Walking through the door, she dropped her bag as it shut behind her.
The room had a courtly appearance. Rich furnishings and heavy flowing drapes gave the place a regal air. It truly was a Parisian salon. She glanced at the bed. It was huge, covered in a thick damask quilt that invited the body to sink into it. The headboard reached upwards in a network of gilt spires towards the heavy velvet wall hanging behind it.
A movement caught her eye. The glass doorway to the balcony was open and a long, white lace curtain billowed into the room. It was as if he had stepped out there for a moment, and she followed the movement.
Lifting the curtain aside, she stepped out and found herself on a balcony enclosed by more wrought iron. It overlooked a small courtyard, where a cherub trickled water from an urn into the circular pool that surrounded him. The building closed the courtyard in on all four sides and she glanced at the other windows, wondering how many pairs of lovers the shutters masked from each other. Two pigeons fluffed themselves up on a ledge nearby and looked at her as if she were intruding on their private lovemaking. She smiled and walked back into the room.
The heat of the day was waning, but it was still hot. She slipped her jacket off and moved her camisole over her breasts as she walked back across the room, cooling her skin. She spied Zac's leather jacket hanging over a chair and ran her fingertips over its shoulders. His presence was near. She walked into the bathroom.
It was a marble cavern with a huge tub in the center of the space. Ornate brass taps and a mirror that sprang the length and height of one wall gave the place an air of grandeur. As she came back into the bedroom a small box on the dressing table caught her eye, and she wandered over to it. It was dark charcoal kid leather, mottled like parchment and tied with black string. She didn't touch it but wondered what was inside. Just then, an unseen finger touched her and she held her breath.
The phone rang. She stared at it. What if it was another woman phoning for him? What if she found out something, now, something that she really didn't want to know? It didn't stop ringing. She moved towards the sound reluctantly, but found her hand drawing the receiver to her ear. She listened but did not speak.
"Abby?" It was his voice, the deep intimate sound that called upon something that had laid dormant inside her, until the moment when he stepped into her life.
"Yes," she murmured. "I was worried. I thought I might intercept a call for you, from another woman."
He gave a soft laugh. "No, I told you, you're the only woman."
She lay down on the bed and nursed the receiver against her face. "Good."
"Abby, nobody knows we're here. I wanted this weekend to be about us, totally." He sounded so serious.
She listened to the background noises of the place he was in, jealous of its claim on him. "This weekend is about us, and I'm here, on your bed."
"I can just picture you," he said quietly. "I'm really glad you came. I'm finished here so I'll be back soon."
She had an image of him striding toward her as she lay on the bed, and gave a purr of approval. "How soon? I'm ready for you now."
She heard him move against the receiver, felt him turn away from the place around him.
Her body pressed harder into the bed. "I want you, Zac." She heard his breathing close to the phone.
"How ready?" he whispered.
His voice betrayed his need for her. She pressed her head back against the pillows.
"I'm getting wetter as we speak...I've been longing for you inside me." As she spoke she quivered inside, as if in confirmation of her own words. It was so poignant that her eyes pricked with a tear. Her breath caught. She realized that the phone at the other end conveyed only the background sounds. "Are you still there?"
"Yes." His voice was husky. "How wet? Touch yourself with your fingers and tell me just how wet you are."
Abby groaned and writhed on the bed, her sandals falling to the floor with a soft thud. Her free hand moved automatically to answer his request, her body throbbing out a joyful response. Her fingers pulled at her skirt, her thighs opening as the skirt rode up.
Her hand stroked over the hot, moist surface of her silk panties. The sensation was sheer torment. "My panties are damp."
"Put your fingers inside."
She slid a finger down one side of the fabric and beneath the material. She felt her moist sex quiver at her own touch and groaned.
"Abby?" he whispered in response to the sounds she was making.
"Zac...please," she murmured, as her fingers thrust inside and rubbed her anxious sex. "Oh I'm so wet, the sound of your voice...knowing you are near...I have wanted you so badly." Her fingers moved but her flesh was throbbing with longing for him. She could hear his breathing against the mouthpiece. She almost felt its heat on her sex, stirring her up even more. She wanted him there.
"I can't...it's torture." She pulled her knees up and drew her hand away. She gripped the phone and closed her eyes tightly. "It's you I want." She listened to his quiet, dense breathing. "I think I'm addicted to you," she whispered.
"Good," he replied, and the line went dead.
She held the receiver to her ear and listened to the hollow echo of her own breathing. Her heart was beating wildly into the void he'd left. She lay back for a moment, then dropped the receiver and coiled across the bed, pressing herself against it as her body moved over the wide surface, absorbing the physical contact. After a few moments she rolled off the bed and paced the room.
How far away was he? How long would it be until he got to her? She ran a hand across the back of her neck and lifted her hair. She was hot and restless and wandered towards the bathroom, peeling her clothes off as she went.
Turning on the ornate brass taps, she listened to the sound of the water plunging in on itself and looked at her naked reflection in the huge mirror. Her skin was luminous in the dark marble cavern. Her hair looked like fire creeping through autumn leaves. Her eyes were bright. She could see the heat of her own desire clearly. Her lips were full and dark with readiness for passion, readiness for Zac. Her hands caressed the outline of her breasts, they were aching. Her whole body ached for him. She turned away and slipped into the bath.
The tub was so deep that the water covered her breasts. Her toes didn't reach the end of the bath and she stretched out, spreading herself in the water. Resting her head back, she looked at the patterned marble of the ceiling. She could see a vague reflection of herself, a white blur that rippled on the dark marble. Holding her breath, she slid down into the water until it covered her face, her hair floating up around her. She listened to her heart pounding in her ears. It was as eager to be with Zac as the rest of her body and it struck her then that love, like blood, coursed through her heart.
When she slid up again and breathed in the warm air of the room, her wet hair clung to her cheeks and neck. It crept close across her shoulders and into points over her breasts, its touch on her skin like that of a lover.
Her skin prickled with awareness. Opening her eyes, she saw Zac standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame, watching her. He held her skirt and lace camisole in one hand and the other slowly unbuttoned his own shirt. He ran the
leather across his bare chest.
"Still warm," he murmured.
She could see from his expression that he was just as needy as she was.
He dropped the skirt, lifted the lace camisole to his face, his eyes closing at the touch of the lace on his face. She couldn't move or speak, transfixed as she was by his actions. When he looked at her again he hung the camisole over the door handle.
The tap dripped. She blinked.
He walked towards her and took off his shirt. She watched the flex of his chest as he dropped it to the floor. He sat on the edge of the bath and trailed his fingers up her leg from knee to hip, over her belly and down the other leg, rippling through the water, leading patterns of movement and sensation above and beneath her skin as he passed.
"Zac, you're here."
He kissed her, long and luxuriously, then moved his fingers to the mound of her sex and kneaded the fullness with the pads of his fingers, sending tremors through her entire groin. Her tongue touched against his and her hands moved to his arms. He drew back and his eyes flashed, a dark smile on his face. He pulled a condom out of his pocket, tearing it open.
She rested her hands on the bath edge, preparing to climb out.
"No," he commanded. "Stay."
He stripped his clothes off and she looked at his erect cock as he rolled the rubber on. It was charged, pleasure-seeking, and potent.
"I want you," she whispered.
"You're going to get me." He pushed her legs apart in the water and inserted his knee between hers and filling the space with his body. Water crashed around them, spilling over the edge of the bath.
"Zac!" She laughed in disbelief as the water flowed up over her shoulders.
He followed its path. His hips moved to meet hers, his chest forcing another wave of water over her shoulders to spill to the floor.
She lifted her legs up to the edge of the bath, to lie along the sides. He squeezed her pussy and a surge of water pushed in front of him. Her head rested back against the edge of the bath when his mouth sought her damp breasts as they pushed out of the water, her body arched up for his touch. His lips closed on her nipple and his fingers slid inside her. The water flowed around them, nebulous, broken only by the firm hunt of his fingers against her flesh. His teeth pulled gently at her nipple and she moaned.
He led a line of kisses to her throat, his cock nudging against her. The water flowed around them again as he moved inside her, and she felt him wedge against her, then plunge inside, water trapped between them, inside and out.
He kissed her mouth, and their bodies moved together in the water, anchored by her legs on the side of the bath. His lips were wet, his tongue warm and firm in her mouth, skimming her mouth, tasting her. He licked her cheek, chasing a drop of water that dripped from her hair and her eyes closed. She was entranced by the muted feeling of his body riding against hers, through the ethereal veil of water.
The only sound was the splashing of water that reflected their movements. Each splash touched her mind a split second after he thrust against her, deep inside, an echo of perfection and harmony. As the touches grew faster and harder so the noise of the spilling water became louder, quicker.
He moved his hands along the edge of the bath, lifting up as his strides became ever more urgent. He looked like Poseidon rising out of the waves, his wet hair splattered across his neck and shoulders, his muscles flexing. Water spilled over the edge of the bath. Her body arched up, her hips bucking against his as if to free the demon that coiled inside. It was rising like the water around her shoulders, rising up to flood free. She pressed her hand along the line of his throat as she hit her peak.
Zac's lips parted as he watched her climax, then she lost sight, her eyelids falling with the tide of unrestrained power flowing through her body.
He murmured her name, drawing her back to him and as she looked into his eyes she saw how her climax had fired him.
She put her hands on his arms, holding him as he reached for his prize. The power began to fade from his eyes and he uttered a deep, strange sound, like a captured animal. As he gave the final lunge the water crashed again and spilled over her breasts as he came, creating a surge of movement within and without.
"Abby," he whispered.
He lay over her and kissed her again as his cock slid from her into the embrace of the water.
She glanced down. "The water wants to take you from me."
He laughed quietly and reached around to pull the plug out. As the water swirled away from them, he kissed her face, drying her skin with his mouth, moving over every bit of her. She murmured as his lips passed over her, the water sinking around her hips, trailing sensation away. When the water was gone she looked into his eyes. "I really am addicted to you, Zac, and you are feeding my addiction."
He kissed her gently, smiling. "Good, I want to feed your addiction."
When they climbed from the bath he wrapped her in a towel and moved his hands over it, following the lines of her body through the deep fabric. He showed such acute attention to her body that she felt cosseted, cherished. She watched the movements of his body in the mirror as he attended her.
The muscles on his back flexed, gloriously strong. The damp hair on his legs drew her gaze to the taut line of his thighs and buttocks as he crouched down to dry her legs with the towel. When he stood up again she opened the towel and took him into it, warming his body with hers. They stood silently for a few minutes, wrapped together in the marble room.
"I thought you might not be able to come. I'm so glad you're here." He kissed her forehead.
"Oh, I would have got here, hell or high water."
He led her to the bed and laid her down, kissing her gently. They lay quietly together for a while, enjoying the reunion of their bodies.
"One night apart, and I missed you so much," she said eventually.
He nodded. There was a deep contentment in his eyes, as if he was finally happy to have her hidden away with him.
"It's a beautiful room," she said. She wanted to hear his voice again.
"Yes," he replied, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "Not as beautiful as you though."
She laughed. She felt strangely buoyant, as if the water still lifted and held her body.
"I always stay here when I'm in Paris. There's a good seafood restaurant nearby. I'm going to take you there tonight but I'll get them to send up some wine to have now, if you like?"
She nodded, watching as he moved to the phone.
He spoke in French. She didn't know he could speak French. Her heart yearned for that knowledge, for the full measure of him and the sense of completeness she instinctively knew it would bring her. She wanted to know everything about Zachary Bordino.
* * * *
Zac collected the matching robes that hung in the bathroom and, when the wine was delivered he carried it to the bedside, where they curled into a yin and yang on the bed, happily watching each other.
He teased his fingers inside the edge of her robe, brushing the skin on her thigh with the lightest breath of a touch. Her body responded, writhing with pleasure. He loved that.
"Oh I meant to ask, did you get the club?"
"Yes, mercifully the paperwork was all done before you arrived."
"Will you take me to see it?"
He looked at her, unable to hide the pleasure that her request had brought. "Of course, if you'd like to we can go there later this evening."
"Is it far?"
He began to laugh.
"What?" She tugged at the belt of his robe.
"Too far." He was still smiling. He was thinking of his rush to get to her.
She looked at him with mock innocence. "Oh?"
"I made the mistake of telling the taxi driver to put his foot down. They're all crazy drivers in Paris anyway. I didn't know what I was in for."
She kissed him, hiding her amusement against his mouth. "Well, we'll get the Metro. As long as we're together we can take things a bit slower." Her
eyes reflected her amusement. She sighed. "I thought I'd never get through yesterday without you," she whispered, eyeing his body where it was exposed at the neck of his robe.
"I felt the same." He watched her with a half smile, waiting to see what she did next.
"While I remember, there's something I need to tell you," she said.
"Yes?"
"I'm not really a receptionist."
Why did he feel so strange, hearing her say those words aloud? They seemed to fly out of nowhere. He felt almost bereft. He stared at her, waiting for some big confession—guilt maybe—but he saw only honesty and a hint of embarrassment.
"Why did you lie?" he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice level.
"Because most men do a runner when they find out what I do for a living." Her eyes flashed, pure seduction reeling him in. "And I didn't want to scare you off."
Seriously? That simple, huh? He could kick himself. But why did he feel such a sense of loss? Because you haven't got an excuse to mistrust her anymore, you jackass. Yes, he had been using it as a crutch. And now it was gone he had to stagger forward into the relationship without support. If this all fell apart, he wouldn't have his sense of mistrust to wallow in, just loss. Only loss. He didn't want to feel that, but it was edging up his back like fear.
"I'm an investment manager." She paused, waiting for his reaction. "So if you ever need any advice on what to do with your cash..." She reached over and stroked his chest. "I'm your girl."
You certainly are. How bloody ironic. He hadn't wanted their real lives to intrude on this weekend, but the discussion had led them there. With an effort, he smiled. He had to get her off that topic though, lest he feel tempted to confess his hidden role in her life, and have her storm out on him as a result. This was their time. He didn't want to ruin it now, not this soon. "Is there anything else about you that I should know?"
Double Dare Page 17
