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—
Laine was wrapped around Jason, her naked arms and legs like a vice, her kisses covering his face, hair and neck—she was chaos in a pleasured assault showering down on him. With Laine in his arms, his suit pants at his knees, her dress in his teeth, Jason staggered out of the elevator into his apartment, slammed Laine’s bare back against the foyer wall. Dropping the dress over the secretary table, he gritted his teeth.
“I need you. God, hurry,” she cried against his neck, wriggling against his cock, trying to pull herself over it.
“The bedroom… just a few feet away,” he promised them both, grinding against her wet pussy with a groan, using all his restraint to wait for the condom in the bedside table.
“The bedroom,” she gasped, with a sultry, teasing laugh. “I’m honored. I thought your dates never saw the inside of your apartment.” A fresh assault of kisses and bites rained down over his neck and ear. “After my shower here last week, tonight will be twice already—those hotel gossips are worthless for reliable information.”
Jason almost stopped dead. It was true. He never felt right bringing women back to the penthouse. It was where he went to sleep, not to fuck his casual dates. But it hadn’t even occurred to him that he wouldn’t bring Laine up here. He’d been fantasizing about luring her into his bed for months. In his head she belonged in his apartment, in his space, spending time with him. Forever.
Still, it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear as he tumbled through the apartment with her in his arms. The fact was, none of the rules he lived by seemed to matter in the context of Laine Malone. She was worth the risk… to everything. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, it fled with Laine’s words. “I’m about to come just from touching you. Hurry, I want you inside me…”
He was done for.
—
Pillows, shoes, sheets, and an array of discarded clothing covered the floor, making Laine’s tiptoed trek across the dimly lit bedroom a treacherous one. She picked through one pile, then moved on, picking through another. Where was it?
“What are you looking for, baby?” Jason’s gruff voice sounded behind her.
“My dress,” she said quietly, looking up at him across the bed with a smile. A scrap of blanket covered one leg and his waist, leaving the rest of his muscled physique properly displayed. He ran one hand across his chest and then stretched back with his arms locked over his head. Pure masculine motion. The flex of his triceps was too much to resist, and Laine climbed back into the bed. Jason’s mouth curved up with his sexy grin, and she wondered how she’d managed not to jump him for so long.
Taking one of her wrists, he pulled her across him so she straddled his waist.
“I thought we had this all worked out. You were going to stay naked for me; I was going to pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams.”
Laine laughed. “I assure you, I’ve been thoroughly pleasured.”
Jason smiled, running his hands over her hips. Then he sat up, shifting Laine back on his lap as he leaned over the side of the bed. “Here why don’t you put this on for now?” He handed her the white dress shirt he’d been wearing when they descended on his previously immaculate apartment.
She slipped her arms into the huge sleeves and wrapped herself in the fine cotton that smelled of his cologne. “Perfect.”
Jason’s hands skimmed up the front of the unbuttoned shirt, over the swells of her breasts, and brushed her nipples through the fabric. “Hungry?”
“What?” Not at all where she’d expected him to go next.
Jason grabbed the phone off the nightstand and hit the speed dial. “I have the best open-late Chinese delivery place. Chow’s. You like spicy?”
Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and, considering the workout they’d had, it made sense that she’d need a few extra calories to make it through the night. Chinese sounded fantastic.
She nodded. “Really spicy.”
After a warm greeting with whoever answered the phone at Chow’s, he began ordering, and after the fifth item, she crawled off his lap, wondering how much carryout Jason ate. He owned a five star restaurant on the second floor, looked to have a fully functional kitchen in the penthouse, and yet he seemed to have committed the entire menu to memory. Her kind of man; he had skills.
Pulling her hair out of the neck of his shirt, she twisted it over one shoulder and ventured out into the apartment, giggling at the evidence of their path into the bedroom. Finding her dress a few feet in from the elevator doors, she picked it up along with her keys, clutch, and Jason’s suit jacket. She set her things in a pile on the end table and then hung his jacket over a chair in the dining room, smoothing the wrin
kles as she looked around.
The first time she’d been here, she was so flustered by her cake-coated mad dash for the elevator she hadn’t noticed anything other than the difficulty of washing frosting out of her hair. But now, as she looked around, she saw the penthouse as if for the first time. It was immense. Floor to ceiling windows against the far wall offered a sprawling view of the city’s sparkling night lights and the dark void of water beyond. The classic décor was a testament to his good taste, and Laine found herself walking through the space touching every chair and table, wondering if Jason had selected it himself.
Strong arms circled her waist; warmth pressed against her back. It felt like heaven. “Food’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
Jason brushed her hair back over her shoulder and planted a quick kiss against her neck before crossing over to the piano. Wearing a pair of black track pants and no shirt, he sat down on the bench and began playing Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon.
Was there anything this man wasn’t good at?
Laine fell into the armchair beside the piano, tucking her legs up beneath her. He played beautifully, fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease.
