Kitabı oku: «Park Avenue Secrets», sayfa 5

Six

Home from the enlightening stop at Alexander’s, Elizabeth stood in her kitchen and struggled to remember the last time she and Reed had eaten in their dining room. Rena was also a cook, and when they were first married, she would make sumptuous four- or five-course dinners. Elizabeth and Reed would indulge in a long, candlelit meal, gazing over the park, talking about the events of the day, their hopes and dreams.

But it had been months since Reed had been home before Rena left for the day. Eventually, the housekeeper had started leaving dinner in the refrigerator for later, tourtière or manicotti—things that were easy to reheat.

Not that Reed would be hungry tonight. Elizabeth was sure he and his little party of four had had a wonderful dinner at Alexander’s. While Elizabeth had settled for a banana and a glass of juice.

A key turned in the lock on the penthouse door, and her stomach lurched. She’d been tempted to pack her bags and leave before he arrived. But she kept hearing Hanna’s voice asking her to assume it was nothing until proven otherwise. Well, Reed was about to prove it one way or the other.

“Elizabeth?” he called, latching the door shut behind him.

She heard him toss his keys on the entry table, then his footfalls moved toward the living room. She walked out of the kitchen to meet him halfway, glancing at the grandfather clock that showed it was ten-fifteen.

“Tough day?” she asked as he loosened his tie.

“I got stuck in meetings.”

“Ahh.” She nodded, moving behind the sofa and putting it between them. “With anyone in particular?”

“The last one was with Collin.”

“Just Collin?”

Reed peered at her strangely. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Were you at the office?”

He didn’t even miss a beat. “Downstairs. Collin’s apartment.”

She didn’t respond.

“We could order something from Cabo Luca.” He picked up the phone.

“You didn’t eat earlier?”

“Not a thing. I’m starved.”

Wow. She’d had no idea her husband was such an accomplished liar.

“Any other meetings tonight?”

He paused and cocked his head sideways. “What’s this curiosity all about?”

“Just making conversation.” She ran her fingertips along the back of the sofa. “Wanting to know about my darling husband’s day.”

“Tell me about your day. Anything new on the anniversary party?”

“We’ve chosen the napkins.” After only three weeks of deliberation between the party planner, the caterer and the florist. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine why her life didn’t feel completely fulfilling.

“That’s good,” said Reed.

“Nothing with Senator Kendrick?”

Reed’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you ask that?”

She shrugged. “The SEC investigation.”

“I told you not to worry about that.”

“Well, I am worried about that. I read the papers. Which, by the way, is my only source of information on this subject.”

Reed moved toward her, but she backed off a few steps.

“I saw him briefly, earlier today.”

“Just Kendrick?”

“Yes. Trent thought it would be good for me to talk to him alone. If you must know, we want him to make a public statement that we’re innocent.”

A completely inappropriate chuckle burst from Elizabeth. “Innocent?”

“Of course.”

Her throat closed in, and her voice rose an octave. “I don’t know what the hell you and Kendrick were doing for four hours with those supermodels, but it sure as hell didn’t look innocent to me.”

Reed drew back, his eyes going wide. “Whoa.”

“Who were they, Reed? Or do you even remember their names? A month ago, I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that you were a faithful husband. And then I thought it was one woman. And now I don’t know how the hell many. How long? How long have you been living a lie?”

“Elizabeth!” Arms outstretched, he took two steps forward.

She looped around the end of the sofa. “You stay away from me.”

“I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Swear all you want, Reed. Because I know how well you lie.”

“I’ve been completely faithful.” His expression was earnest. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe him without question.

“Is that why you wouldn’t make love with me? Was it because of her?”

“There is no her. I didn’t make love with you because you cringed at my touch. Then I was working, and then you were passed out drunk. I want a baby as much as you do, but I’m not making love to an unconscious wife.”

“Then maybe you should have one with someone else.” She finished the statement on a sob, realizing how very much the thought of Reed having a baby with someone else hurt her. She loved him. Even through all of this, she still loved him.

It was pathetic.

“Who else?” he demanded, and she could see he was growing angry.

Well, so was she. “I don’t know. Take your pick. Maybe that blonde who was hanging all over you in the restaurant, or maybe the—”

“I don’t know what people told you. But my meeting with the senator was—”

“Told me?” She laughed again, slightly shrill, slightly hysterical. “Nobody had to tell me anything. I was there, Reed. I saw you. I saw her.”

“How—”

“My driver. Or should I say my bodyguard. Joe from Resolute Charter. The finest protection money can buy. Did you know he had a gun? Wait. How silly of me. Of course he had a gun. Is he protecting me from irate girlfriends?”

“The blond woman was nobody. I didn’t even know her name. She was with the senator—”

“Quit lying to me!”

Reed took a giant step forward, wrapping his big hands around her upper arms. He didn’t squeeze. He wasn’t hurting her, but she also knew he wasn’t about to let go.

“I am not lying about the blonde. I saw her for twenty minutes tops. Call and check with Collin if you want.

“Yes, I hired a bodyguard. But he’s also a driver. You want to go out in the city? You want to drink with Hanna? You want to hunt for jobs? Fine. But you’re going to be safe while you do it.

“I’m under investigation, Elizabeth. I swear to God I’m innocent, and nobody’s going to prove otherwise. But the court of public opinion is an entirely different matter. You could be accosted by reporters or self-righteous citizens, or by anybody else on the street. Joe will keep you safe.”

A little of the fight went out of Elizabeth. Was there some logic to that rant? He seemed sincere, offended that his morals had been called into question. And he had conceded on the job front.

“You’re okay with me finding a job?”

“Not in the least. But if you’re going to do it, you’re going to do it. You’re not my prisoner, Elizabeth. Although some days I wish you were.”

Elizabeth suddenly felt exhausted. Sad and exhausted. What was the truth? What were lies? How was she ever going to recognize the difference?

“How can I believe you?” she asked.

“Can I prove I’ve never slept with another woman?”

She found herself praying he could. She loved him. She loved him so much.

“No man can prove that,” said Reed with a sad shake of his head. “But there’s nobody on the planet who can prove I have. I swear to God I’ve been faithful to you. I love you, Elizabeth.” His hands loosened on her arms, and he pulled her into a hug.

Tears dampened her cheeks. “I’m so afraid.”

He stroked his palm over her hair. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I’m afraid of you, afraid of us, afraid that we’re just not going to make it. I want to believe you, Reed. I so want to believe you.”

He pulled back and cupped her face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? What’s really going on?”

“I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

He looked puzzled. “You know me better than anyone.”

“And you don’t know me.” She gave a strangled laugh. “Not that there’s much to know. I’m nothing. I’m fading.”

His tone was heartfelt as he searched her eyes. “You’re everything to me.”

“But I need to be everything to me. I need to have my own life, my own identity.”

His voice went flat then. “So it’ll be easier to leave me?”

“Do you want to leave me?” she asked.

“Never.”

But there was still the gorgeous blonde, and there was still the scent of coconut embedded in her brain. “Now would be the time to tell me,” she continued. “I won’t hold it against—”

“Never,” he repeated.

She tried to trust him, tried with all her heart and soul to trust him, but it wouldn’t quite come.

“Let’s go away,” he suggested. “Just you and me. We’ll take a trip. We’ll reconnect. We’ll make love anytime, anywhere, as often as we want. Forget the stupid thermometer.”

It was a tempting offer.

Away from New York, she’d have him all to herself. And if he was having an affair, would he be so willing to leave? Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

“We’ve already blown this month anyway,” she ventured, half to herself.

He smiled. His expression relaxed, and when she looked deep enough into his eyes, she caught a glimpse of the man she’d first fallen in love with.

“Paris,” he said, dipping forward. “Or Marseille. We’ll rent a chateau and lock out the world.”

His lips met hers in a familiar kiss. Her body quickened, and she longed to wrap her arms around him and bury her fears in his strength.

But she couldn’t let herself do that. Not this soon. And not this time. They had things to work through besides lovemaking.

She drew back. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. I’ll book the jet.”

Reed had found a chateau for rent in the little town of Biarritz in southern France. It overlooked the craggy beaches, bleached castles and stone walkways of the Atlantic coast. They had their choice of ten bedrooms, the chef came highly recommended and, best of all, there wasn’t a blackmailer or SEC investigator within four thousand miles.

He watched while Elizabeth gazed around the arched great room, taking in the bank of French doors and paned windows that revealed a stone veranda. The veranda overlooked the harbor, where waves crashed against the rocks and seagulls called on the afternoon breeze.

It was a cool day, but tourists and residents still dotted the beach walk. And a few intrepid souls reclined on colorful towels on the sun-warmed sand.

“It’s stunning,” she said, turning in a circle to view carved wall panels, antique furnishings, rich draperies and crystal chandeliers hanging from twenty-foot ceilings.

After a minute, she grew still, facing him. A wariness shadowed the joy in her eyes.

There was definitely some work to do on their relationship. He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin. Elizabeth had misunderstood the blonde hanging all over him at Alexander’s. And, he admitted, he could see how that could have happened.

But it was obviously a misunderstanding, easily explained away. And he wasn’t sure what he’d done to warrant her suspicion in the first place. Every step he took in life was designed to protect her, to make her life easier and happier. But, for some reason, that wasn’t enough.

From what he could tell, this had all started with her crazy idea to get a job. Although why a woman with an unlimited bank account would need a job, he couldn’t figure out. Was she bored? Lonely?

He would love to spend more time with her. He’d also love to give her a baby. And he was doing the very best he could on both of those fronts. But he couldn’t force a pregnancy, and that unlimited bank account didn’t magically regenerate itself. And, lately, the world seemed to throw down challenges as fast as he could rise to meet them.

He felt frustration building within him, but he couldn’t give in to the luxury of that emotion. For some reason, Elizabeth was unhappy. And, as her husband, it was up to him to fix the problem—whether it made any sense or not.

“Are you tired?” he asked gently. “Would you like to take a nap?”

“Could we walk instead?” she asked, turning her attention back to the windows. “Along the shore?”

“Of course,” he agreed easily.

She smiled at that, and the frustration eased inside him.

While Elizabeth went upstairs to change into comfortable shoes and a sweater, Reed consulted with the chef on the menu. Jean-Louis also showed Reed a romantic, little dining alcove on the second floor. With a view of the lighthouse and the yachts in the harbor, it would be a perfect location for dinner.

When Elizabeth returned, Reed took her hand, leading her through the wide turret that was the foyer and out to the porch, down a cobblestone path and a short staircase to the beach walkway.

She turned in circles, gazing at the rolling waves and the rock promontories. “This is absolutely gorgeous.”

“I think the town center is that way.” Reed pointed south to the vintage, stone buildings and the international hotels.

“Let’s check it out.” Her hand tightened on his as they started to walk.

As they passed other tourists, she asked, “Did you know we have ten bedrooms in the chateau?”

“You counted?”

“I counted.”

“It was hard to find a place on short notice.” His travel agent had given them a choice of very high end or very low end. High end easily won.

“It seems like we should invite some friends to join us.”

“Not a chance.” This was their getaway. Theirs and theirs alone.

They came upon a shop with merchandise displayed on the stone sidewalk. Elizabeth ran her hand through a row of colorful silk scarves.

“Would you like one?” he asked, eyeing a bright purple and blue design.

She chose a lemon yellow, so he bought them both.

The next shop sold beachwear.

Elizabeth sorted through a rack of sundresses. “I had the strangest conversation with Heather the other day.”

“Uh-huh.” Reed checked out a white bikini and matching wrap, wondering if he’d convince her to wear it.

“They know we’re trying to get pregnant.”

Reed switched his attention from the bikini to Elizabeth, surprised by the revelation. “Did you tell them?”

She shook her head. “Brandon said it was in my eyes when I looked at Lucas and in my voice when I talked about him.”

Reed nodded, his happiness dimming a notch. Suddenly, the scarves in the little bag seemed frivolous and inconsequential.

He took her hand and they moved on together in silence.

“Heather …” said Elizabeth, shifting tight against him as they maneuvered around a family of four. Then she took a deep breath and eased away. “Heather offered to be a surrogate mother.”

Reed stopped in the middle of the walkway, and his chest contracted painfully. Did Elizabeth know something he didn’t? Had there been bad news from Dr. Wendell? Was that what all this job and infidelity nonsense stemmed from?

“Why?” he demanded in a hoarse voice.

Elizabeth urged him to the edge of the path, out of the crowds, where a cliff dropped down to the crashing waves below.

“Were there more tests?” he probed. “Did you find out—” He couldn’t voice the question.

“No more tests,” she said quietly. “But it’s been three years.”

Reed braced his hands against the waist-high rock wall, clenching his fists and pressing his knuckles against the rough stone. Sure, it had been three years. But the first eighteen months or so, they weren’t really trying for a baby, they simply weren’t trying not to have a baby.

He’d assumed it would happen naturally. Thousands of women got pregnant every day of the year. Many of them weren’t even trying; some were actively trying to prevent it.

And then there was him and Elizabeth, both with above-average intelligence, both healthy, both hardworking. Both of whom would be stellar parents. Yet they had to contend with charts and graphs and invasive tests, and still nothing happened. And now their family members were beginning to speculate.

“I hate this.” He fixed his stare on the endless ocean. “It’s none of Brandon’s business. It’s none of Heather’s business. There are way too many people in our bed.”

Elizabeth placed a hand on his tense forearm. “She was only trying to—”

“I don’t care,” Reed ground out. “I want it to stop. I want you and only you. I want it the way it used to be, with you purring and perspiring—”

“Reed.”

“—arching and moaning—”

“Reed!” She pasted him with a censorious look, glancing meaningfully around at the families out shopping.

He swallowed.

“I miss you.” “I miss you, too,” she whispered, leaning against his arm, a sheen coming over her eyes.

“I don’t want us to be self-conscious about making love.”

“I know.”

“My parents—” He stopped himself. Elizabeth didn’t need to know his parents were also waiting with baited breath for any sign of pregnancy.

“They may not be crazy about my pedigree,” she continued his train of thought. “But they definitely want you to procreate.”

“My parents are snobs.”

“You think?”

He chuckled at the tone of her voice, turning to brush a few stray hairs from her soft cheek.

Her skin was flushed, her smile wide, and the sunshine off the Atlantic highlighted her green eyes. “Can we talk some more about sweating and moaning?”

Arousal instantly hit him in the solar plexus. “Not here we can’t.”

“Back at the chateau? In one of our ten bedrooms?”

“I noticed the master bed was a four-poster,” he pointed out, suddenly anxious to get her back there.

Her smile widened even further.

“And we have these new silk scarves.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I hope you’re hinting that I should wear them.”

He moved closer to rasp in her ear. “Among other, more interesting things.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why?” Lovemaking should be playful and fun.

With the heel of her hand, she playfully hit him in the shoulder. “You seriously want to tie me to the bed and have your way with me?”

“Absolutely.” A sensual, compelling picture rose in his mind.

She coughed out an unintelligible protest.

“Trust me,” he told her.

“Reed.”

“Trust me.” He pulled away and grasped her hand, urging her back along the walkway toward the chateau.

Seven

At the chateau, Jean-Louis was clearly delighted to see them. And when Elizabeth saw the beautiful table he’d prepared, and inhaled the luscious scents wafting from the kitchen, she knew making love would have to be postponed. She excused herself to change, finding her clothes freshened and hanging in the closet of the master bedroom.

She changed into a black cocktail dress then met Reed at the bottom of the formal staircase.

He gallantly held out an arm. “Would you care to accompany me to the wine cellar?”

She grinned to herself, feeling sexy and playful for the first time in months. “Can I trust you in the wine cellar?”

He grin broadened. “Come on down and find out.”

She pretended to hesitate, but he turned them both into a short hallway that ended with a wood-plank door.

The stone staircase beyond it was narrow, and the light was dim. Reed kept a firm hold on her waist as they made their way to the bottom. There, he switched on an overhead light, and she drew in a surprised breath at the rows and rows of dusty wine bottles.

“We’re looking for row eight.” Reed led her down to the third rack.

“What are we looking for?” she asked.

“This,” he announced, and his hands closed over her hips, lifting her to sit on a ancient, hewn-beam table in the middle of the aisle.

“What—”

He silenced her with a kiss, moving between her knees and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

His lips were cool and soft, moist and parted. His tongue gently explored the recesses of her mouth, and she felt shards of arousal work their way out from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers and toes.

His hands moved to her bare knees. His kisses explored her neck, her ears, her shoulders, while she gripped his upper arms for support.

His fingertips circled higher on her thighs, leaving a burning trail of want behind them.

“I had a feeling I couldn’t trust you down here,” she breathed.

“You can trust me completely.” But his fingers hooked around her panties, tugging them down.

She gasped and grasped his forearms. “Not here.” She glanced around at the cold, dusty room.

He chuckled. “No. Not here.” But he pulled her panties to her ankles, peeling them off over her heels. Then he tucked them firmly into his inside pocket.

He gazed hotly into her eyes. “Later.”

“But—”

He silenced her with a finger across her lips. “We’re on vacation, Elizabeth. We can play.”

He lifted her down from the table, smoothing her skirt back into place. Arm still around her, he guided her toward the narrow staircase.

“Reed?”

“Yes?”

She tipped her head to look back at him. “The wine?”

“Right.”

Elizabeth leaned back against the solid table, content to let Reed choose the year and the winery. If there was anything her well-bred husband knew, it was good wine.

She watched the play of his muscles as he reached into the bins, considering and returning bottles. She shifted down the table to bring his profile into view. There was no doubt he was a gorgeous man, and a slow pulse of sexual arousal remained steady in her bloodstream while the cool air circulated around her bare legs.

She couldn’t help but picture the big, four-poster bed. The silk scarves also tickled their way into her imagination, making her shiver. She and Reed had more complex problems than a long night of pleasure could solve, but reconnecting sexually wouldn’t hurt. It might even help. And it could definitely be satisfying.

“After you,” he said, gesturing to the staircase with one of the bottles he’d chosen.

They made their way back to the second floor, where a young French woman assisted Jean-Louis in serving them an artichoke and baby greens salad. It was followed by pumpkin soup, bay shrimps, salmon, a cheese tray, and finally the most heavenly torte she’d ever tasted.

By the time the final dishes were cleared away, Elizabeth had kicked off her shoes and curled up in the rich, velvet upholstery of the big, Louis XV chair.

“Come here,” Reed rumbled, a half smile on his face and heat smoldering deep in his midnight-blue eyes.

Elizabeth’s sexual arousal returned in a rush. She set down her coffee cup, uncurled her legs and padded the length of the table to Reed’s chair.

He took her hand, drawing her down into his lap. Pulling back her loose hair, he feathered soft kisses into the crook of her neck.

Footsteps sounded in the doorway, and she stiffened at the sight of Jean-Louis.

Reed’s hand closed around Elizabeth’s wrist, keeping her from jumping off his lap.

“We won’t require anything further tonight,” he told the chef.

“Bonne nuit, monsieur,” intoned Jean-Louis with a respectful nod.

“Oh, it will be,” Reed whispered to Elizabeth as the door closed behind the chef.

“That was embarrassing,” said Elizabeth.

“Exhibitionism not one of your fantasies?”

She drew back in astonishment. Sexual fantasies were definitely not a subject of discussion in their marriage. “No.”

He chuckled and resumed kissing, his spread fingers delving into her hair. “Noted.”

“Seriously, Reed. I’m not—”

“Noted,” he repeated. “I’m not going to forget.”

“But—”

He anchored her head and kissed her deeply on the mouth. His other hand stroked behind her knee, teasing its way up her thigh, reminding her she was naked under the little black dress.

Her arms snaked around his neck, and she breathed his name, leaning into another deep kiss, reveling in the play of his lips and tongue on her swollen mouth.

Her breasts rubbed against his broad chest, nipples coming erect, growing sensitized against the fabric of her clothes. Her skin began to tingle, itching, aching to be touched.

His hand cupped her bare bottom, sliding toward the small of her back, bringing the hem of her dress up to her hips. He began an intimate exploration, and perspiration soon slicked her skin.

She went for the buttons of his dress shirt, popping them from their holes, splaying her hands over his chest, starting an exploration of her own.

“I’ve missed you,” he groaned.

She nodded, but words were beyond her capability right now. His skin was taut, his muscles firm, the fire in his veins transmitting itself to her very core.

His palm slipped back down her leg, covering her thigh, caressing her knee, exploring the curve of her calf, then teasing the arch of her foot. Her head dropped back, and his kisses found her neck. He made his way down her chest, while her hands moved to grip his shoulders, stabilizing her position.

He nudged her neckline, moving the fabric out of the way, kissing her nipples through the thin silk of her bra, leaving wet circles that cooled and puckered her skin unbearably.

A groan made its way up from her core, and his hand convulsed against her waistline.

“I love you,” he whispered against her breast. “I am madly and passionately and completely in love with you.”

“Oh, Reed.”

“No matter what happens—” He pulled back, straightening, scooping her into his arms while her body throbbed with need. He carried her the length of the hallway, pushed open the master bedroom door, then closed it firmly behind them.

The lights were out, but the shine from the town and the glimmer of the lighthouse gave the room a luminous glow. Reed sat her on the edge of the bed. Then he stripped off his jacket and tie, his shirt still hanging open. He came down on one knee in front of her, parting her legs and easing between.

He hooked his fingertips into the top of her bra and tugged her forward. She came easily, kissing his mouth, running her fingers through his neat hair, shifting forward so that her dress bunched up and she came in contact with the bare skin of his abdomen.

He rolled her dress up over her head, unclipped her bra so that it fell between them. Then, his eyes boring into her body, he laid her back on the bed. He stroked his hand up the center of her belly, over her navel, between her breasts and across her shoulder.

His mouth followed the trail, leaving hot, moist spots along the way. Finally, he slid up beside her, lips coming down on hers, arms wrapping around her, pulling her solidly against the strength of his body.

His cotton shirt trailed over her skin, further sensitizing her belly, her breasts, her nipples. His hand circled down, touching her downy curls, lower still, until she gasped and arched off the bed.

His kiss deepened, and she convulsively dug her fingernails into his back. Her eyes closed. Her toes curled. Her thighs began to quiver, and her lungs struggled to keep up with her need for oxygen.

Then something brushed softly over her face.

She opened her eyes to see a yellow haze.

Reed stretched out her right arm, then trailed the scarf along it, wrapping the soft fabric loosely around her wrist.

He was joking.

He had to be joking.

But what an odd time to decide to be funny.

He moved her other arm, and she felt the same sensation along it. Something shivered deep down in her core.

“Reed?”

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Then he rose, stripping off his shirt, his slacks and everything else.

She lay still, not moving her arms, not moving a thing, taking in every inch of his magnificent body as diffuse light played off the planes and angles of his muscles. His chest was broad, shoulders strong, arms toned, hands capable.

He leaned over her, and she swallowed.

Gripping her upper arms, he shifted her to the center of the bed, her head cocooning in the deep pillows. He placed one knee on either side of her stomach, without putting any weight on her.

He stretched her right arm out again.

He was not serious. He was not.

He wrapped the other end of the scarf around the bedpost.

She tried to talk, but her throat had gone dry, and the words turned into a rasp. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t angry. In fact, she was sort of …

He stretched out the other arm.

“Reed,” she tried, wiggling her hips.

He centered himself over her, capturing her gaze, looking directly into her eyes. “Do you think I’ll hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Do you think I’ll do one single thing you won’t like?”

She shook again. She wasn’t scared. In fact, she was turned on. She was well and truly turned on at the thought of giving him free rein over her body.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “Good.”

Then he kissed her mouth. She opened wide, welcoming his tongue. Instinct told her to hug him, but she kept herself still instead.

He kissed her jawline, her neck and shoulders. He made his way to the tip of one breast, then drew the nipple into his hot mouth. She groaned, and arched, and he moved to the other. Sparks of hot sensation traveled the length of her body, flushing her skin, making her blood burn with need.

She hissed his name. But he took his time, indulging in her belly, her thighs, her knees, all the way to her ankles. On the way back up, he moved to the inside, closer, slower, until he hit the center, and she nearly arched off the bed.

Her breaths became pants, and her head thrashed from side to side. Her thighs moved apart, knees bending.

“Now, Reed,” she finally cried.

He levered up on his arms, settling over her, pushing inside in one smooth stroke. And she gave a guttural groan. Her arms automatically went around him. The scarves fell away, and she realized he’d never tied a single knot.

She wrapped her ankles across the small of his back, trapping him to her, rising to meet him, reveling in the barrage of sensations she’d nearly forgotten could exist. Her need drove higher, her body grew hotter, as their slick bodies came together over and over again.

A roar grew in the depths of her brain, and a pulse at the base of her spine became insistent. It throbbed harder and faster, radiating out to engulf her limbs.