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‘That was a very nice entree, Harry,’ he told her as he turned and carried her towards the main bedroom. ‘But not nearly enough for me. My sexual appetite runs to five-course meals.’
He loved the wild glittering in her dilated eyes. She wanted seconds as much as he did.
‘Don’t worry,’ he went on. ‘We’ll stop after the second course and save the rest till after we’ve eaten some real food. Nothing like a break to whet the appetite again.’
Chapter Twelve
IT WAS AFTER seven-thirty by the time an elegantly dressed Alex steered a somewhat shell-shocked Harriet into the restaurant for dinner. Thankfully, she didn’t look as shattered as she felt. The designer dress she was wearing, which had cost her a week’s wages, fitted her figure like a glove, the emerald colour complementing her dark hair. Her make-up was perfect and her black patent leather bag matched her shoes, their four-inch heels giving her some much-needed height, especially when she was with Alex, who easily ticked her ‘too tall’ box.
Harriet did her best to exude an air of cool sophistication as their waiter showed them to their table. But it was a struggle to put aside the memories of what had just transpired. Less than twenty minutes earlier she had been stark naked in Alex’s shower, her hands outstretched on the wet tiles, every muscle in her body tight as a drum as he teased her endlessly with a soapy sponge, then took her from behind, her moans muffled by the hot jets of water streaming over her back. She’d come quickly again, but Alex hadn’t. He’d lasted and lasted and, astonishingly, when he’d finally come, so had she. Which was a first for her. She’d never come twice like that. Not in such a short space of time. Yet perversely, as soon as he’d withdrawn, she’d found herself wanting more. Before she’d been able to stop herself, she’d spun round and grabbed him, kissing him passionately.
It was Alex who’d put a stop to proceedings. Harriet flushed at the memory of his smacking her on the bottom and telling her not to be so greedy; that it was time to dress for dinner and she would just have to wait.
Harriet sucked in a deep breath as she sat down, the position reminding her that she was still on the sensitive side down there. Not sore, exactly. Just...sensitised. Feeling perversely embarrassed—really, what was there to be embarrassed about?—Harriet reached for the white linen serviette, flicking it open and placing it across her lap before the waiter did it for her.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Alex asked, forcing her to glance across the table at him.
Hopefully, her gaze was cooler than her cheeks. ‘Something white and dry. But not too dry. I’ll probably order seafood.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ he replied, then handed the drinks menu to the hovering waiter, telling him to bring their best bottle of Verdelho.
‘You trust him to pick for you?’ she asked after the waiter hurried off.
‘Why not? It’s his job. I’ve never been a serious wine buff. I also don’t drink much any more. I used to during my Oxford days—but I didn’t have to pay for the wine at the time,’ he added with a rather odd little smile.
‘Why’s that?’
‘It’s a long story. I might tell it to you one day, but not tonight. Tonight I want to find out a little more about you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you, Harriet McKenna. So, tell me...what’s your story? Before Dwayne, that is. I think I’ve heard enough about dear old Dwayne.’
Harriet pressed her lips tightly together. She really didn’t want to open up any further to Alex. She’d already told him more than he needed to know.
‘It’s all in my résumé,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ Alex said with a drily amused smile. ‘You’ve decided to play the mysterious femme fatale, have you?’
Harriet shook her head at him. ‘I’m not playing at anything, Alex. I’m simply keeping to the rules we set down when we started this strictly sexual affair. We don’t need to know each other’s life stories to have sex. In fact, telling each other all our past histories could be counterproductive. Exchanging confidences and secrets brings on emotional involvement. I don’t want that. And neither do you.’
* * *
Absolutely not, Alex accepted. But, damn it all, he was curious about her. He suspected for the first time that there was a lot more to Harriet than he’d read in her résumé.
‘We can’t confine our conversations to sex, Harry. That could get a bit boring.’
‘The sooner we get bored with each other, the better,’ she replied. ‘Then I can go back to just being your PA and you can find yourself another dolly-bird to sleep with.’
