Jo Leigh - Scent of a Woman

“We’ve come this far,” she said, liking him more by the second. “We might as well go all the way.”

His left brow rose and she realized her double entendre. “Go call room service.”

“I will in a moment,” he said. “But first, there’s something I need to do.” He took her coat and laid it over one of the wing chairs. His own coat followed. Then his suit jacket.

Her eyes widened at the contrast between his shoulders and his hips. And when he turned she got a nice long look at his behind, which was as stunning as anything she’d seen in ages. She wanted to touch it. Run her hand along the curve.

He turned, walked up to her, lifted her chin with the side of his finger until she met his gaze. Then, slowly, he bent and kissed her.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the tenderness of his lips. It was a soft kiss, a brush, barely touching. Puff of breath, and she could taste him, breathe him in, and she leaned in, wanting more.

He obliged, but in his own time. “Susan,” he whispered against her lips. Then a soft, cool kiss that lingered, deepened as the seconds ticked by. As the night changed from question to promise.

Pressing harder, he used his lips to open hers, then his tongue flicked once, twice against the soft inner flesh under her top lip. Her gasp gave him full entrance, and he took advantage of the situation. Now he explored her more fully, not rushing, languid, as if he needed to learn every taste, every nuance.

She put her hand on his neck as she did her own exploration. Teasing heat and a flavor that was completely new. Completely David. Her fingers moved up into his hair, and she could hardly believe how soft, how smooth. She moaned as his arm went around her waist and he pulled her tight against him, and when he shifted his hips, she felt his hard length press her lower belly.

She shivered at the contact, at the heat. He thrust into her mouth, and she captured his tongue, sucking hard. It was his turn to moan.

His arm stayed around her waist, although he loosened his hold. His eyes were half closed, lazy with desire. She could see herself with him, in the bed, naked and touching and doing everything that pleasure would allow.

But that wasn’t her plan. If she didn’t do something about it now, she would be lost. This was her party, and she was going to keep it that way.

As he moved to take her mouth once more, she leaned back and shook her head. “Champagne,” she whispered.

He looked into her eyes, letting her know he wasn’t through.

He let go of her waist and walked to the phone by the couch. The thick outline of his cock pushed against the fine wool of his pants. As he spoke to room service, he turned away, and she felt a flush on her cheeks as she realized he’d watched her checking him out.

Luckily, her desire wasn’t so obvious. It was the only thing that made her plan workable. If he had any idea what he did to her…

She grabbed her purse and made a dash for the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she leaned against the cold wood and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

This was unbelievable. Completely outside of her experience. She’d been with a few other men. Men she wasn’t in love with. A long time ago she’d come to terms with her sexuality. She liked it hard, fast, uncomplicated. But this…

This was thrilling. Seductive. Erotic as all get-out.

Pushing herself off the door, she went to the sink, where she fixed her makeup and brushed her teeth, using the time to calm her racing heart. Although she wasn’t very successful at that, she was able to map out the next few steps.

The champagne would arrive, they’d talk. Not touch. She needed him pliant, obedient. After seeing his erection, she was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

Then she would begin. She’d make it an evening neither of them would forget.

When she went back into the sitting room, David stood by the window, looking down at the traffic below. He’d loosened his tie, but hadn’t taken it off.

Slowly, he turned from the window, his face pensive, questioning.

“What’s that look?” she asked.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.”

“Go on.”

“I don’t feel any hesitation about this. Which is odd. I mean, we’re strangers. We don’t even know each others’ names. You could be—”

“Anyone. I know.”

“But not really. We can only be who we are.”

She walked across the room until she was very close to him. “Ah, but that begs the question, who are we, really? Are we the same person with the lights out? With a stranger on the fifteenth floor?”

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

“I don’t either. It’s going to be interesting to find out.”

He studied her face intently, looking at everything—her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. “I think we all have many natures. Some much darker than we’d care to admit.”

Her hand went to his face and she traced a line down his jaw. His skin felt warm and smooth. He must have shaved recently. Her exploration was good, but it wasn’t enough. She found herself wanting to taste him, to lap his face like a grooming cat.

“Why did that make you smile?”

“A rogue thought,” she answered. “Actually, I think it’s true. We do have our darker selves. I don’t mean evil, although I suppose that’s part of it, too. I mean wicked. Desires we’d never admit to another soul for fear they would run away in horror. Or at the very least never invite us to another cocktail party.”

His grin changed his face. Made him all the more accessible, but a moment later, his face grew solemn again. “What if you could tell someone those thoughts? What if you knew, completely and without reservation, that there would be no bad consequences. You wouldn’t be shunned, or made to feel guilty, or wicked. What if it was all okay?”

She took in another deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It might be very exciting.”

He nodded.

“And very fulfilling.”

He nodded again.

“But scary, too.”

His brows arched slyly. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Her response was cut off by a knock. She gave him a “stay put” look and headed for the door, trying to walk as if her whole body wasn’t trembling. The waiter was mercifully efficient, and in short order she was alone with David, each of them holding a crystal glass filled with a very good vintage of Dom Perignon.

“To desire,” David said, touching his glass to hers.

“To desire.” And then she sipped the chilled bubbly, savoring the taste and the moment. It was, as they say on Broadway, show time.

THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY THING about the moment, David realized, was that he was more aroused than any other time in his thirty-two years, and yet he was still able to hold a glass. Smile. Speak in complete sentences.

But his luck wasn’t going to hold out forever. Everything in him wanted to take charge, to make her his. But he also knew she didn’t want that. Not yet, at least. In this tango, she was leading, and that alone had him hot and bothered. He’d never been with a woman quite like Susan. More than ever, he was confident that his first impression of her had been accurate. She came from strength, from wealth. Her confidence was sexy, and the way her eyes fairly danced with possibilities nearly drove him over the edge.

He couldn’t wait to see what she would do. Undress him? Top him? Damn, he’d never done that before. A lot of his clients were into being dominated. The more successful, the more likely they were to want the release of someone else taking control, at least in the bedroom. He’d heard stories, knew the lingo, had had himself a fantasy or two.

There was no doubt if she was into domination, she’d be damn good at it. He pictured her in black leather. With all that blond hair, it was almost too good. Then his fantasy lifted and he saw her as she was. Goddamn, she was gorgeous. Her hair was up in another clip, and his fingers itched to let it loose. Her dress showed off her curves, her legs. He especially loved the high heels.