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I shake my head. “We could…we could go up to my bedroom. If you like, I mean.”
“Oh, now that’s a really good idea.” He offers me his hand and tugs me to my feet. “Lead the way.”
I have a few moments to reflect while we climb the stairs. I get to the third step and pause. “What about Molly? The bar’s open.”
“It’s quiet tonight, though.”
“I know, but, she’ll wonder…”
“Wait here.” He returns to the bar and exchanges a few words with Molly. When he comes back he’s still smiling. “Right, that’s sorted. She’s on double time for the rest of the night.”
“I can’t afford—”
“I can. Upstairs, Now.”
On the way to my bedroom, I offer up thanks for two blessings. The first, that I’m a naturally tidy person. I’d hate for him to see all my dirty washing and toiletries piled on the floor. It’s bad enough that I didn’t have time to straighten the duvet earlier, though I suspect it would have been a wasted effort. I certainly hope so.
The second blessing is that I’m wearing decent underwear and it actually matches. My mother’s admonitions that I should always wear clean knickers in case I get run over by a bus are bearing fruit now, though I’m not sure this is the sort of emergency she envisaged.
He back-heels the door shut with a resounding clunk, then takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. “This is a lovely top, Jenna, but I want you to lose it.”
I fumble for the waistband. My fingers have melted to jelly. I’m spared the bother of trying to get them to do my bidding when Tony hooks his hands under the fabric and tugs it up and over my head. He drops the discarded garment on the floor then reaches around me to unsnap my bra. The cups fall away, and I resist the urge to grab them. The cream-coloured lace, the finest that Victoria’s Secret could supply, drops to the carpet to form a small pile along with my top.
Tony rakes my body with his eyes. I swear, I actually feel his gaze on me, hot and greedy. His eyes darken. He combs his fingers through my hair, loosening the locks from the loose bun at the back of my head. He draws me forward, his hands fisting in my hair, and tips my face up to meet his gaze.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers in a hushed tone which I’d like to describe as reverent. “I knew you would be.”
“So are you,” I murmur as my brain threatens to shirt-circuit then close down altogether.
His lips curl into a smile moments before they close over mine.
I grab his shoulders and hang on, willingly parting my lips to allow him the access he wants. Our tongues dance together, curling, snaking, tasting and exploring. There’s a sound, which I realise originates from somewhere deep in my throat, incoherent and instinctive, a sound full of need and longing.
He pulls me closer. My bared breasts are pressing against his shirt, but still I’m not close enough. I lift my legs to hook my ankles around his waist.
He chuckles. “You’re as eager as I am, little Jenna.”
Oh God, is it so obvious?
“I just… I mean…” I stutter.
“Shh, I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He takes the two or three steps required to reach my bed, then lowers the pair of us onto it. “Can we lose the jeans, too?”
I unfasten the button and shimmy the denim past my hips.
Tony doesn’t offer to help. Instead, he props himself on his elbows to watch.
My jeans are tight, but I manage to get them to my ankles before I’m forced to sit up and tug them the rest of the way. They end up on the floor with the rest of my clothing. I notice he’s still fully dressed.
“Aren’t you going to…?” I wave in the general direction of his smartly tailored suit.
“Soon. First I want to taste you.”
“You already did,” I point out. My mouth is still tingling from that kiss downstairs.
He shakes his head. “No. I mean, tasteyou. Lie down, Jenna, take these off…” He tugs at the waistband of my pretty lace knickers. “I don’t think you’d like them torn, would you?”
He’s right about that. The set cost me nearly thirty pounds. Even so, and despite the fact that Tony Haigh looks as sexy as sin draped across my bed and my mouth is practically watering, this is still hard for me.
