was thrilled to discover Harley’s interest in a property I’m selling, especially when I discovered what she has planned for the Morris Building.’
Her gaze flew to him. Her heart skittering in her chest as the fear subsided. Jack flicked her a look, adding a wink, and his fingers flexed on her hip. Warmth flooded her body and centred between her legs. As he turned to glance at the band, which had returned to the stage, Ash briefly widened his eyes in Harley’s direction.
She shook her head and then looked away. She knew what she was doing. Exploring intense sexual attraction. It was no one’s business but hers who she fucked. Certainly not her brother’s and most definitely not her father’s. And she and Jack weren’t serious—no need to drag up ancient history.
‘So, are you...?’ Ash left the question hanging. Harley shot him a shut up now look, but the unspoken sounded loud and clear.
What are you doing? Dad will flip when he finds out.
‘About to ask your sister for a dance? Yes.’ Jack tilted his head to the dance floor, providing a perfect socially acceptable distraction for two old friends recently reacquainted. ‘Shall we?’
Harley nodded, her feet immediately lighter. She reinforced her kiss of dismissal on Ash’s cheek with a warning squeeze of his arm, and for once her brother stayed silent and kept his opinions to himself.
Sometimes it sucked being the baby of the family; no matter how old or successful you were, you could never outgrow the role. Although she only qualified as the youngest by seven minutes. And of course she’d never be successful enough by her family’s standards.
The fact she was sole recipient of the knowledge of Hal’s philandering turned her stomach. But she pushed that from her mind, determined to enjoy Jack’s company without interference from her family.
Harley sank into his arms, grateful for his confident steps and firm grip on her hand and waist leading her around under the lights. She checked his demeanour. No annoyance. No harbouring ill will. And certainly not concealing his interest in her, picking up where they left off before Ash interrupted. Clearly he didn’t give a damn what her brother thought of him.
If only she could achieve that...
‘So tell me about this orgasm.’
His change of topic was so abrupt, Harley’s neck protested as she leaned away to confirm the wicked gleam in his eyes. She glanced around. Bodies moved around them but no one seemed to have heard.
He laughed, a low rumble reverberating through his chest and zinging her nipples to life.
‘You brought it up, ma belle.’ He licked his bottom lip, pressing his thick length into her belly as he swayed them indecently close. His lips grazed her ear. ‘Did you think of me when you touched yourself?’
It was pointless to deny it. If he had any observational skills, he’d feel her accelerated heartbeat thud against his chest and see the flush of arousal her strapless dress failed to conceal.
She lifted her chin, meeting his bold stare. ‘Yes.’
Triumph sparked in his eyes—the cocky kind that expected nothing less. ‘How was it?’
Predictable. Tepid. Hollow.
‘Perfectly adequate, thank you.’ His ego needed no massaging from her.
He smiled, confidence unwavering. He stopped dancing, gripping her tighter, pressing every inch of her body to his while he stared intently.
‘May I put my number in your phone?’
Her insides turned gooey. The way he asked, like an old-fashioned knight accepting her favour with polite courtesy.
‘Why?’ She fought a smile. But she fished her phone from her clutch and handed it over while her pulse fluttered, double time.
His eyes gleamed as he typed his details in with one hand and held her with the other. When he passed it back, he resumed their slow dance.
‘Next time you have the...urge, you can call me. A little phone sex might liven up the mundane. I’ll join you.’ His lips twitched, fire in his eyes. ‘We can talk each other over.’
Nothing about sex with Jack, the phone variety, she guessed, or any other, could be described as mundane. And she’d been wrong about his politeness. A black knight, perhaps.
Certainly, the memory of that session on her hall table still had the power to make her internal muscles clench. The thought of him stroking himself while she did the same, their vocalisations and filthy words of encouragement the only contact between them, left her light-headed. Would he revert to his native French at the height of passion?
He sighed, his warm breath sliding down her neck.
‘Although the image of you pleasuring yourself... I’d travel a long way for such a sight.’ The look he settled on her left her trembling with anticipation and torrid arousal.
How could he do that with only a few, albeit explicit words and an intense look?
Then his eyes turned devilish. ‘So, are you coming home with me? Or are you sufficiently satisfied for today?’
Her belly quivered. Would she ever get enough of his sexual prowess? And he’d ramped up the anticipation so successfully, if he didn’t touch her more intimately soon, she’d probably spontaneously orgasm, just by walking across the room.
She pressed her lips together, her face straight.
‘That depends. Will it be worth my while? Better and better, you said.’
He nodded. Self-assured. He dipped low, his lips caressing her ear once more, setting off a cascade of tingles.
‘I have something up my sleeve.’
She smiled, fingering the expensive cufflink at his wrist. ‘Well, let’s undo this, and see what you have planned, because I’m on a promise.’
* * *
The minute she entered his apartment, his needs solidified into a hot ball of determination. He’d strived for what he wanted every day of his adult life, and right now the only thing on his agenda was getting Harley completely bare to him so he could demonstrate that determination over and over again, until she was one hundred per cent convinced.
He’d deliberately kept his hands to himself in the car, building the anticipation until his own skin itched and every muscle raged at him to touch her. But the wait would be worth the denial for both of them.
Since he’d visited her store, witnessed her passion and dedication to her career first hand, he’d thought about her constantly. Not what she would wear tonight or how she would look naked on his bed, his floor or anywhere else they might end up.
But how she’d opened up to him, showing him her workroom, her sketches, even her vulnerability over her asshole father’s cruel taunts. But he shoved that from his mind before he broke something. Not that it was his business.
Tonight was about pleasure.
‘Is there anything you want, besides me between your perfect thighs?’ He stepped up close as she cast her eyes around his dimly lit living space and whispered the words on a husky drawl—part intentional because he enjoyed the fine tremors of her reaction, and part because his own needs choked him to the point of oxygen deprivation.
This was physical. A game. His reminders to himself grew more frequent and more resolute.
She shook her head, her scent wafting on a cloud of warmth tinged with a hint of the arousal she was powerless to conceal. His hands glided to her hips, his fingers finding the dip beneath the jut of her hipbones.
He’d arrived at the gala at least thirty minutes before she’d finally spotted him, circling her like a cat, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But he’d forced himself to observe her from afar, building the anticipation self inflicted torture. He’d ached to touch her, her creamy skin