Sallinger, Elene - Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

She wondered what Claire would say now. After all of Bridget’s dramatics when they’d gone to buy lingerie, now here she was sporting nothing but a scrap of silk passing for a thong under this dress, a bona fide garter belt and stockings to boot, and feeling like the sexiest woman on earth. It helped that when Connor looked at her like he could eat her for dessert and still not be satisfied.

The image of Connor feasting on her body caused swirls of desire to fan out from her womb and she clenched. Her nipples tightened, and a flush spread along her skin. This dress may have support for a woman shaped like she did, but it was still silk; it didn’t hide her aroused state from him. She could practically feel his eyes on her and her embarrassed flush deepened.

Avoiding his gaze, she ordered a glass of white wine and waited as Connor gave his own order for a Guinness stout. She wished she could run and hide until she calmed down.

‘Bridget.’

His voice flowed over her, adding to her awareness of him, and her nipples went even tighter. The silk abraded the sensitive flesh and she had to fight not to squirm. She stared at the highly polished wood of the table top and simply ignored him. After her reaction to him in the alley, she was at a complete loss.

‘Bridget. Look at me.’ He reached out a finger and gently raised her chin so that their eyes met. His eyes, usually so light and laughing, were smoky and hot. They smouldered like the very ash they resembled.

‘It’s OK, sweetheart. Stop fighting it.’

Hot tears flooded her eyes and she blinked rapidly to clear them. There was no way she was going to cry in public and embarrass herself further.

‘There is nothing OK about putting myself on display like a hussy.’

For the briefest moment, anger flashed across his face, but it was quickly stifled and his voice was gentle when he said, ‘Being aroused is natural when you’re with someone you’re attracted to. When you’re attracted to someone, it’s also natural to act on it. Because of what happened to you, your signals are crossed now. That act has made you distrust yourself.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one sitting here hot and bothered and on display for everyone to know it.’

‘Really.’ He drawled the word as he reached for her hand. Sliding closer to her, he placed her palm in his lap and she felt the steel of his erection under his slacks.

She instinctively squeezed and he groaned, but when she went to snatch her hand away, he held onto her, pressing her palm down around his cock. Leaning into her, he whispered, ‘Stroke me.’

‘Here!’ She hissed the word, looking around to ensure no one was watching them.

He nodded again, whispering, ‘No one can see us. Touch me, Bridget. Feel how much I want you right now.’

She hesitated, but only for a split second. She liked that he wanted her. Liked that she wasn’t alone in her neediness. She was coiled tight and some part of her needed to connect with him and know she wasn’t by herself in this.

She stroked him through his pants, enjoying the solid feel of him under her palm. The way he responded was dizzying; his body jumping under the cloth of his pants. His soft groans only spurred her on and she moved even closer, adding friction and pressure to her ministrations.

‘That feels amazing, Bridg,’ he groaned into her neck. ‘I want you to do this again when there’s no fabric between us. I want to see your hand, so tiny, wrapped around my cock and watch you jack me off.’

He groaned again as she squeezed, fascinated at the sounds he made, the images he projected into her mind, and the evidence of his desire for her right in front of her eyes. His hips were moving now and his breathing was harsh as she continued to stroke and rub his cock. His smoky eyes held hers and she watched the play of his features as they hardened in desire and need.

‘It’s your call, sweetheart. I’m at your mercy. Do you want me to come for you?’

She marvelled at his willingness to give her this power. They were in public, for God’s sake. She was damn tempted to make him come. To watch him fall apart under her hands the way he made her fall apart and know she’d done it to him.

Instead, she leaned over and, for the first time since they’d met, she initiated a kiss. She brushed her lips over his, taking in the textures and the sweet, minty taste of his lips before delicately tracing them with her tongue. He opened to her readily and their tongues began a lazy dance.

She brought her hands up to his chest, resting her palms on him and marvelling at the fierceness and tempo of his heartbeat. Her own was going a mile a minute. Connor didn’t repeat his mistake of the picnic. His hands stayed away from her neck, though he turned to face her as he deepened the kiss. One hand rested on her hip and lightly stroked her in tandem to the rhythmic invasion of his tongue in her mouth.

Before she could protest again about being in public – not that she wanted to protest – Connor brushed his hand up along her midriff and cupped her breast, lightly massaging before squeezing her nipple. She gasped into his mouth and he gentled his touch, cupping her breast and stroking his thumb over the distended tip.

‘Connor –’ She broke the kiss, trying to marshal her thoughts though she had no real idea of what she wanted to say; she was awash in sensations.

‘I want you.’ He squeezed her nipple again. ‘Bad. I want to fuck you tonight. We made love before and I want that too, but tonight … tonight I want to fuck you. I want you on your knees with my cock in your mouth. I want you on top of me, riding my dick like there’s no tomorrow.’ His hand left her breast and cupped her chin gently. ‘You drive me crazy, Bridget.’

Overwhelmed and damn near panting, Bridget couldn’t manage so much as a “damn, that was hot!”

Fortunately, she was saved from having to respond by their server showing up to take their order.

The janitor! She was screwing the fucking janitor! The gall of that bitch. She’d fuck the janitor but she treated him like he was less than dirt under her shoes. Who the fuck did she think she was?

And who the fuck did he think he was? Whittier saw him just about every day. Emptying his trash. That was where he belonged, not reaching for what belonged to Dale. He had no right to put his hands on what was his.

Whittier threw back the scotch he’d previously been savouring and considered what he’d just seen. Luna Bella was not an establishment he usually frequented, but this was where the theatre’s board had decided to hold their annual dinner. They’d rented a private room at the restaurant to which they’d all adjourned after the screening of a local filmmaker’s documentary on homeless children.

Boring didn’t quite cover the depth of distaste he had for both the board and their pretentious little pack of upstart creatives who all thought they were going to be the next Coppola. But he had a standing to uphold in this community. Appearances were important to his end game.

Luna Bella was across the street from the theatre, making it convenient. Personally, he found the food plebeian compared to what he was used to. He preferred Gia – River Rock’s finest restaurant. Their chef had a Michelin star as well as a James Beard Award. His steak au poivre melted in your mouth. The best thing on the menu at Luna Bella was the Ossobuco, and that was like comparing a Rolls-Royce to a Lexus. No one would deny that the Lexus was a perfectly acceptable car, but it couldn’t compare with the elegance and sheer magnificence of the Rolls.

By the time the food was finished, he’d grown claustrophobic from the hot air the board members were throwing around; each person’s ego fighting for space. He’d followed the waitress who’d been tossing inviting glances his way. He’d figured he’d get her number and maybe even a quick one. She’d headed toward the kitchen and he’d followed. Anything to liven this night up.