and you were dancing just for me.”
“You were.” She smiled and started to sway her hips to the music. “And I was.”
His eyes darkened, his smile going sexy. “What brought on the change of heart?”
“You,” she said simply. And let her body take over.
She knew all the moves, but suddenly they had a whole new meaning for her. She wanted to seduce this man, body and soul. Wanted to entice him. Enthrall him. Make him pant. Make him sweat. Make him never, ever forget this dance of temptation…
Or her.
Slowly, she peeled off her wedding gown. Taking her time. Moving her body to the music. Teasing him. Provoking him. Making the anticipation last and last. Until she was left wearing only the lace corset, stockings and shoes. The G-string of tiny seed pearls she’d selected for tonight hardly counted as attire.
His gaze devoured her, lingering on the special wax job her line of work demanded.
“Like what you see?”
“I’d like it a whole lot better closer up.”
She smiled. “Yeah?”
He looked relaxed, arms lying along the back cushions of the sofa, his legs spread wide. But she knew it was a hard-won facade. There was a film of sweat on his forehead that had nothing to do with the outside night heat, and the pulse on the side of his throat throbbed wildly. Not to mention that solid ridge in the front of his pants. “Oh, yeah.”
She moved closer. He swallowed.
He couldn’t touch, but there were no such restrictions on her. She put a knee to each side of his, kneeling on the red leather divan with her hands on his shoulders, and straddled his lower thighs. Keeping distance between them.
“This better?” she asked.
“Not nearly close enough,” he murmured darkly.
The fabric of his suit was smooth and luxurious, cool to the touch. But the man in it was sizzling. She ran her fingers down his shirtfront. “Mmm. You’re hot,” she observed.
“Burning up,” he agreed.
She peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. Loosened his tie.
“Take it off,” he ordered huskily.
“Why, Mr. Rothchild…”
“The tie.”
She obliged, using the length of silk like a sex toy. Drawing it off slowly, teasing him with the end, glancing at his wrist debating whether to tie him up to the iron ring attached to the wall above his head.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
She smiled, setting it aside. “Later, then.”
“We’ll see about that.”
One by one, she teased his shirt buttons open. Touched his broad chest. Reveled in the feel of his skin under her fingers. In the soft scratch of the curls of masculine hair. He shifted under her, and she could feel the slight trembling of his thighs.
She wet her lips and brushed them over his. He groaned softly. “You’re killing me here, you know that.”
She put her hands to his chest, rubbed her thumbs over his tight nipples. “Hope you have nine lives.”
He sucked in a breath, lifted his knees and tipped her into his chest. “Not fair,” he gasped.
She tilted her head up, taking her time pulling her body away from his. “Who said anything about fair?”
He gave a strangled laugh. “Witch.”
“Candy-ass.”
“You are so getting a spanking when we get home.”
She winked. “Promises, promises.”
His eyes cut down to hers, darkened to the color of a forest in a storm. “You are a naughty girl.”
“Want to see how naughty?” she whispered in his ear.
“I’m your lawyer. I need to know these things.”
Her corset was held together in front by a row of bows. She reached down, found the end of one of the ribbons, and tugged it almost open. Then she put the ribbon to his lips. With a jerk of his head, he finished the job. Her breasts spilled out of the garment…just enough to be a tease.
She lifted up on her knees a little. Like lightning he grasped the end of the next ribbon with his teeth and tugged that one open, too. Her breasts tumbled out, brushing his face. He groaned, trying to catch a nipple with his tongue and teeth.
“Uh-uh,” she scolded, wagging a finger. Feeling the intimate contact like a wave of shivers.
“Let me,” he pleaded.
“Finish undoing the bows. Then we’ll see.”
His hot breath puffed over her skin, his wet tongue grazed her flesh as he bent to his task. Her nipples spiraled harder. Achy coils of desire tightened around her center.
He made quick work of the bows. Clever man. The corset slid to the floor. On impulse, she unclasped her G-string and let it slither off, too. She wanted to be completely naked for him.
His expression was pure sin as his gaze caressed her.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he whispered.
Still up on her knees, she bent forward, offering him her breasts. She wanted to feel his mouth on her. He latched on like a hungry babe, suckling one then the other, until she was panting with need.
With a groan, she pulled herself away. “Any more and I’ll come,” she murmured.
“Do it,” he urged. “I want to see you come apart for me again.”
“Not here.” She eased out a shuddering breath.
He blinked and glanced around, as though he’d completely forgotten where they were. He’d dug his fingers deep into the divan back, holding on to the cushions with a death grip, but now he eased them off and flexed them. “God. You’re right. What was I thinking?” He nuzzled his lips against her throat. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I still have another show.”
“Forget it. You’re coming home with me.” He stood up, sweeping her into his arms. “Now.”
She didn’t protest, other than to insist on picking up her discarded costume and his jacket and tie. He and Lecherous Lou seemed to have some kind of understanding. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job over this.
Not that it would change her mind if she did. She was ready to be his. In every way. More than ready.
Conner drove like a madman, making the trip to his house in less than twelve minutes. He didn’t want to waste a single second. He wanted to be inside her, now, finding release for this volcano of desire roiling inside his body.
Before leaving the club, he’d allowed her to slip back into her pencil skirt, peasant blouse and do-me shoes, but nothing else. He could see her tawny nipples through the almost-sheer fabric of the blouse. He was dying. He needed her under him.
As soon as they got inside the door of his mansion, he had her up against the wall, his mouth to her breast. She moaned, clasping his head in her hands, pulling him closer.
“Conner,” she pleaded, her voice strangled, writhing against the wall as he ground the silk blouse onto her nipple with his wet tongue.
“I’m here, baby.” He threw aside his jacket and practically ripped the buttons from his shirt, ridding himself of it. She lifted her shirt up over her ample breasts, baring them for him. They were breasts a man could lose himself in. Soft, round, full. Perfect.
He could smell the feminine