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At the bar, she turned over two tumblers, popped the cork stopper from the squat black bottle of gin, and poured.
The slender bottle of boutique tonic water hissed as she twisted off the cap, and she emptied it into one of the glasses. She picked up the other tumbler and took one long swallow, closing her eyes as it went down. She refilled it, then picked up both drinks, and came toward him, her stride graceful and deliberate.
“Thanks.” His voice cracked like a teenager’s when she handed him the tumbler.
“There’s no more ice.”
He looked down at the clear liquid he couldn’t wait to get into his body. “I didn’t notice.”
“And I forgot the lime.” It was a dead-end statement, not like she was telling him she was about to go grab a wedge from the refrigerator.
He shook his head. His mouth was totally bone-dry. Nope, didn’t notice that either. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
She lifted her glass to her lips, emptied the contents again in one swallow, and set it down on a side table. He took a long swig and set his down too. He would not waste valuable time drinking when she was looking at him with those doe eyes and reaching her hand toward his arm.
Her fingers grazed the skin of his wrist, and he grew hard as they closed around it. A sign of things to come? He hoped like bloody hell, but did not dare assume.
I sent your driver away. What else could that mean?
She led him toward the main staircase, pausing briefly at a panel on the wall to turn off the lights. The house grew dark, and the background hum he hadn’t noticed until this moment faded to nothing, amplifying the pulse in his ears and the sound of her heels against the wood floor.
With each step, her hips swayed and the hemline of her black dress rode higher up her thigh. He paused on the landing. Two steps above him, she stopped and looked back.
“Shouldn’t I go?” He said a silent prayer.Please say no.
“If you want to.” Moonlight through the tall glass panels on either side of the front door softly lit half her face. The shadows cast by the grilles created the illusion she stood behind bars, while the rest of her body remained silhouetted in darkness. “But I’d like you to stay.”
He felt himself nod. This was surreal. “Of course I will.”
Now his cock focused fully. It was no longer holding back, keeping hope in check in case she agreed he should leave.
She was lovely, and she was leading him by the arm to, given his best guess and fervent hope, fuck.
A long time had passed since his last one-night stand. After the public spectacle with Delphine, he promised himself he wouldn’t get involved with anyone, on any level, until he was sure he wouldn’t screw it up.
He might have destroyed his marriage, but he was not stupid enough to turn down the woman standing before him. The one he had felt oddly protective of all evening as he watched her struggle to feign normalcy.
He reached out to put his hands on her hips, to rub his thumbs along the silky fabric covering her curves, but stopped himself. She should lead; she would show him what she wanted. Grief was an unrelenting bastard. If she needed someone to fuck tonight to get out from under it for a little while—and for whatever reason, he was the lucky son of a bitch she picked—he would give her whatever she was after.
At the top of the stairs, she led him to a bedroom.
The light through the windows and the nightlight in the hall cast enough glow for him to make out the contours of the bed and two nightstands. Near the window was a chaise lounge, several stacks of books beside it on the floor.
They stood facing each other as her breath rustled the hairs near his collar, sending a shot of arousal straight to his dick. She flattened her hands on his chest, her gaze fixed there.
Was he the first since her husband? He guessed yes. Maybe he should ask.
She closed her eyes and began to unbutton his shirt, tugging it from his pants. On the other hand, maybe he should skip the questions.
He bent his head and moved closer to kiss her, and she tilted her head up toward him but turned away without letting her parted mouth meet his. She undid his belt buckle, unfastened the button of his slacks, and lowered the zipper.
Her breathing grew louder as she traced the outline of his cock through the front of his boxers. He wondered if she noticed it twitch.
She reached behind her and unclasped her necklace, two intertwining silver, or more likely platinum, hearts with a diamond set off-center between them.
Carefully, she placed it on the night table and then reached back again for the zipper of her dress.
“Here,” he said, slowly turning her around by her raised elbows, “may I?”
