Stephanie Julian - No Reservations

“Honey, I wouldn’t consider your legs nonvital. They’re damn near pretty enough on their own to make me throw myself at your feet. And at my age, that’s saying something.”

Torn between so many conflicting emotions, she fell back on the tried and true: sarcasm.

Crossing her arms under her breasts, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Please, you’re what . . . thirty-five? That’s not old in my book. And you, Mr. Bigshot Hollywood Producer, are you trying to tell me your casting couch is ever empty?”

Mimicking her by crossing his arms, and drawing her attention to his broad chest, Greg leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb, that grin getting more wicked by the second.

And making it harder for her to breathe.

“I’m thirty-six. And would you like to test my casting couch?”

God, did she? What—

Tyler appeared in the doorway next to Greg, entering the room and stealing all the air. At this rate, she’d be dizzy in seconds.

“Ignore him, Kate. Greg pretends to be an ass but it’s usually an act.”

As her gaze met Tyler’s, she realized his laser-sharp focus had returned. And landed squarely on her.

As if he’d shut out every other distraction and she was the only thing in his life worth having at the moment.

It literally took her breath away to have him stare at her like that. Only when her lungs began to ache did she draw in air.

Tyler’s half grin had a definite edge to it as he stopped in front of her, blocking out everything but him.

“I see you took my advice and made yourself comfortable.” He reached out and let his fingers play over the wide strips of black lace that held up the bodice. She’d used the lace as decoration around the top of the chemise, at the hem and up the side split. “I think I recognize this.”

She’d wondered if he would. It was the same lace he’d used to tie her to her bed.

That dull flush of color spread across his cheekbones and she knew if she looked down, his erection would be tenting the front of his pants.

“It’s a new design.” She took a step back and did a slow turn. “I got the idea from one of Annabelle’s paintings.”

“It does look Victorian, but it also reminds me of something from the twenties. I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“And it looks easy to get off.”

That made her blush. She had no idea why, considering she’d been thinking about stripping in front of his friend.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

He pitched the question in a low voice, low enough that Greg wouldn’t hear.

Although, looking over Tyler’s shoulder, she saw Greg watching them intently, his smile gone.

Her thighs clenched and an ache started in her gut. Now was the time to back out, if she had any doubts at all.

Her gaze reconnected with Tyler’s. “No. I’m not.”

She spoke loudly enough that Greg could hear her. Though she didn’t see his response, she did see Tyler’s. And the scorching intensity in his gaze was enough to make her sex tighten and moisten.

And when he bent down to kiss her, she almost wasn’t prepared for the sensation of drowning. She felt like she was going under and she’d be damned if she cared to resurface.

He tasted hot, felt hot, and made her want to melt beneath him. Her hands rose to cling to his shoulders, her body doing a full press against his. In her bare feet, she barely came up to his chin, so she rose onto her toes to get a better angle at his mouth.

Before she realized it, he’d wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She floated, weightless, even though she ached with a lust so hot, it felt like molten lead rushing through her veins.

She wasn’t ready to release him when he broke away and set her on her feet. She curved one hand around his neck so she could take one more kiss before drawing away.

The flush on his cheeks had deepened and his eyes glinted with promise.

“Did you eat yet?”

She shook her head. “I’m not really all that hungry.”

“Humor me. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m going to order some steaks up to the Salon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Nodding, he turned to Greg. “You?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

And again, that sarcastic little devil that hid in her brain and only emerged in intense sexual situations popped its head out again. “I guess you need to keep your strength up, being almost forty and all.”

There was that smile again.

Had something happened to her to make her sex-crazy? She never had been before. Sex with Arnie had been nice. Sweet. Comforting.

She’d never once considered inviting another man into their bed. Arnie would have been scandalized. And hurt.

Tyler wanted to share her with Greg. Almost as if he were showing off a favorite toy.

Was that why?

Was she merely a possession he could show off, like one of Annabelle’s prized paintings or—

“Kate, are you okay?”

And then he spoke to her in that tone of voice, as if she were the most important thing in his world, and she knew that wasn’t it for him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why don’t you order some food, and maybe we can have a drink. I have an urge to curl up in front of that fireplace in the Salon.”

The food tray had been returned to the kitchen via the old-fashioned dumbwaiter when Kate crooked her finger at Tyler and summoned him to her as she lay on the chaise by the fireplace.

She practically glowed in the warm light coming from the blaze and the few lights he’d lit around the room.

For the past hour, he’d been watching her, couldn’t take his eyes off her. She and Greg had kept the conversation flowing through the meal of steaks and baked potatoes. The chef had also sent up a cheesecake because he knew Tyler had a sweet tooth, but no one had touched it yet.

The three of them had polished off a bottle of wine while they ate, and only seconds ago, Tyler’d handed Kate a glass of champagne before giving Greg a seven and seven.

He’d wondered if she’d be nervous, but the look on her face as he crossed the floor didn’t seem like nerves.

She looked like sex incarnate, lying on the chaise in that black satin slip, watching him as he crossed the room to her.

Greg sat on the wing chair at the far end of the seating group. He knew from experience that position would give him the best viewing angle—far enough away that he wouldn’t interfere yet close enough to see everything.

Kate hadn’t asked him to come closer so she must have figured out why he’d sat there.

And it hadn’t seemed to upset her.

In fact, her excitement seemed to grow by the minute.

“Kate . . .”

She held up one finger. “You’re not going to ask the forbidden question, are you? Because if you do, I’m walking out.”

“Whatever the hell the forbidden question is, don’t ask it, man.”

Greg’s amused tone barely made a dent in the sexual tension that filled the air between the three of them. It’d been building all through dinner but none of them had let the tone get too serious. Now . . .

Tyler hadn’t been about to ask her anything. He’d been going to give her an excuse to leave, an out if she had any second thoughts.

But now . . . Now he was going to take her at her word.

Because he’d had more than enough foreplay. Watching her talk was foreplay. Watching her sip wine was foreplay, for Christ’s sake, especially when her tongue slid out to lick her lips.

“No more questions,” he said. “Take a sip of your champagne then set the glass on the table.”

“Only one sip?”

It took her a few seconds to comply, her gaze on squarely on his. He saw no hesitation, only a sexual heat that threatened to blow apart his tenuous control.