AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was someone else’s husband! And a husband known to be unfaithful. She lowered her gaze to his long, tanned fingers and saw that he did not wear a ring. Well, why would he? If he intended to leave his wife at home and flirt with other women?
“This looks good,” Maggie stopped walking and pointed to a table near the piano.
“No.” He did not pause, but continued weaving through the bar, until finally he reached one tucked around a corner. It was too secluded to be an accident, and he was too quick to find it for it to be his first time.
Just once, she would like to be proven wrong. Just once, she would like one of these guys to say to her, “Oh, I’m married. Have a great night though.”
It was just not the way of men, though, she thought with a sigh. She had come here tonight, dressed in such a way that practically laid her out on a platter for him. And he was grabbing a fork and preparing to dig in.
When she sat down, he didn’t even bother with pretending to keep his distance. He placed one arm along the edge of the chair, and he lifted the other hand, pressing a finger against her lower lip. “Your mouth is very sexy,” he said seriously, running his fingertip along the same path she had traced only minutes earlier.
“Thank you,” she said, dipping her head forward. She felt shy around him. It was unusual for her, but such was his overpowering charisma that she felt her own natural ebullience weaken in response.
“Here.” He held her wine glass to her. “Tell me what you taste.”
Maggie took a large gulp. She was grateful for the feeling of it burning down her throat. “I’m not much of a wine connoisseur,” she lied, replacing the glass on the table.
“Just try.”
Maggie took another sip, and this time, she described the flavours. “Cinnamon and blackcurrant.”
“Very good,” he said. “The flavour of wine is very personal. Everyone tastes something different. But I taste what you taste, and I think that bodes well. Do you agree?”
Beneath the table, he put a hand on her leg, and slowly, lifted the flimsy material of her skirt, so that he was touching her bare thigh. Her mind was screaming objections but her body was shaking in response. All thought of the photographer immediately flew from her mind. It was only Dante, and her, and a darkened corner of the bar. Between her legs, she felt a slick moistness that demanded satisfaction. “Bodes well how?” She asked unsteadily, as his hand went higher still, to the lace of her underwear.
“I suspect our tastes might be similar in other areas also.”
She wanted to tell him to stop. Or rather, she knew that she should. But if he stopped, she knew she would cry out in d
esperation. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. And an even longer time since she’d met someone who could make her insides quiver with just one touch.
“It is difficult to know for certain,” she said quietly, trying to rationalise the fact that she’d come there tonight to screw him over, not screw him.
“Yes. Further testing is required.” He smiled as he lowered his head, and took possession of her soft neck. She flinched as he kissed the skin, flicking her pulse point with his tongue, while his hand moved closer to her most feminine heart.
He watched her with hooded eyes as he slid a finger slowly inside her core. The way her eyes flew open and her whole body jerked in immediate response was gratifying. He knew she would be a satisfying lover. Perhaps one satisfying enough to drive his troubles from his mind. At least for one night.
He rubbed his finger against her slick centre, and then removed his hand, and body, from her. “This table is not private enough for what I have planned. My room is upstairs.”
She stood without speaking, on legs that could barely hold her weight. If she was going to end this before it got too out of hand, now was her chance.
So why did she once again fall into step behind him, and follow him to the bank of elevators at the centre of the hotel? He didn’t attempt to touch nor speak to her. He kept her at a distance as befitted people who barely knew each other.
The doors pinged open, straight into the penthouse suite. She was not surprised, though the obvious signs of such extreme wealth were always a little difficult to comprehend. The chandelier, for example, probably cost more than a year’s turnover at The Darling Buds of May café. The floor was polished marble, and beyond the balcony was a view of the glittering Eiffel tower.
“You are very beautiful.” It was a statement that sounded thick with despair, rather than the compliment she could have taken it to be.
Beautiful enough to justify infidelity, she wondered with the small kernel of her brain that was still operational. Of course, nothing could justify it.
But his wife was already divorcing him. His infidelity not a matter of issue, so much as the amount of payout Veronika was to receive. Maggie neatly put the question of her assignment in the box. She had done enough to be paid her commission. What she was doing now was meeting her own needs with a man who saw sex as little more than breathing.
His wife had left him.
He did not belong to her any longer.
And Maggie wasn’t looking at him as a relationship prospect.
Guilt perfectly dispensed with, she decided she’d feel more confident if she assumed a position of control.
