Читать книгу Friendly Persuasion - Dawn Atkins - Страница 9

ROSS SPOTTED Kara right away. She sat at one of the high round tables in the middle of the Hyatt bar, looking very hot in a black dress as tight as a second skin, with a scooped neckline that revealed lots of creamy breast. Her fair skin looked luminous in the dim light.

He ran his fingers through his moussed-back hair. She wanted to sleep with a stranger, so he was giving her one—a South American playboy, to be exact. He’d bought a European-style collarless black silk shirt and a burnt sienna linen suit, borrowed a gold bracelet from a friend, and practiced his Spanish. He’d stopped short of a fake mustache, figuring it would interfere with his kissing and what if it peeled off?

Why was he doing this? For one thing, the thought of her flashing her shy smile at strange men just about killed him. What if she got into trouble? He had to watch out for her.

There was something more, something primitive related to the night before. Holding her—even while she giggled—had reminded him how attracted he’d been when they’d first met, and if she hadn’t burst out laughing, he would have gone for it. Her skin had tasted great—like vanilla and cinnamon and she’d felt delicate but sturdy. He wanted to hear how she sounded when she came, listen to her make those soft, desperate noises of pleasure. Couldn’t wait for them, in fact.

She needed a stranger, so he’d be a stranger. Of course, he could just pick out a nice guy for her, set them up on a date—first threaten the guy’s life if he hurt her, of course—but who better than him to help her out? They’d gone through the ground rules. He knew how to keep it simple and carnal. He just wanted to do it.

He hoped Kara would get into the game right away. He didn’t want to look too closely at his motives.

There she sat, looking nervous as hell, completely oblivious to how sexy she was. He found that delightful. Plenty of men were checking her out, too. A car-salesman-looking guy at the bar had just caught her eye. He looked the guy over. Used cars, for sure.

She smiled tentatively, nervously wagging her crossed leg—spike heels on her feet. Mmm. She sure as hell didn’t have on granny panties tonight. Probably lace—red or black? He hoped it wasn’t a pair of those edible things she’d bought yesterday. Just thinking about Kara’s underwear got him aroused.

The car salesman smiled at her and rose from his seat.

You can do better than him, Kara, Ross thought. Don’t settle. He had to act quickly before she was tempted to take this sleazeball home for a peek at her red lace panties. He rushed forward, tripped, but caught his balance on a table before anyone saw him acting uncool.

The lounge lizard noticed him heading for Kara and sat down, frowning.

Sorry, guy. The best man just won.

“May I join you, señorita?” he asked Kara in his best Spanish accent.

“Excuse me?” Kara glanced at him, then away, then back. “My God. Ross? What are you doing—?”

“Perdóname, señorita. I do not know this Ross person. My name is Miguel. I am from Argentina. I am a stranger here in your city. Business brings me here and I am, sadly, alone.”

“You’re what?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ross had smoothed back his hair, bought a stylish suit and now was pretending not to know her. He wasn’t grinning, so he wasn’t teasing her. He looked absolutely serious, this Miguel.

He was being her stranger, she realized. Bless his heart. He certainly looked different. He’d moussed his hair back, revealing his high, elegant forehead and making his swarthy complexion seem more dramatic. He’d even worn a different cologne, something more musky than usual. Dressed this way, he seemed mature and exotic and devastatingly sexy.

“Please, sit,” she said, patting the stool beside her. She was intrigued that he’d come—and relieved, she had to admit. A creepy guy at the bar had been about to head her way, and her heart had begun to pound. She’d been losing her nerve. Meeting a stranger just for sex seemed too chancy, too awkward. But here was Ross. Thank God.

“Es mi honor,” Miguel said, sliding onto the chair. He leaned close to her. “Can you tell me something?” he asked. His eyes, gleaming in the candlelight, were gorgeous. Together with his dark hair, they made him seem mysterious and a bit dangerous. And he smelled so good.

“Anything,” she said in her sexiest voice. She leaned forward the way Tina always did to emphasize her cleavage. Her nervousness had evaporated, she realized. If Ross could become a stranger, why couldn’t she?

“How is it that a woman so beautiful is alone on such a night as this?”

“I was waiting,” she said, then paused for effect. “For you.” She almost laughed at the B-movie line, but then Ross—Miguel—looked into her eyes, and said, “I am so happy,” and it became the perfect thing to have said. “Shall I buy you something to drink?” he asked.

“I have a better idea.” And then she did the most amazing thing. She took him by the lapels of his expensive jacket and pulled him close and planted her lips on him, even pushed her tongue forward a little. She was shocked at herself, but maybe not really. This exotic stranger was also her dear friend, after all. He was exciting, but safe, too. And his being a different person gave her permission to be different, too.

Ross—Miguel—made a sound low in his throat and kissed her back, even better than last night.

She felt so weak she feared she might slide off the stool and fall to the floor. “Is there somewhere we could go?” she gasped, breaking off the kiss.

“I have a room in the hotel.”

“You’re kidding!” she said.

“Would I joke about a thing like that?” he said in his own voice.

“I guess not,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me. And you bought new clothes, too.” She felt emotions rise in her—tenderness and gratitude and lust. Lots of lust.

“I’m doing this for both of us, señorita,” he said, resuming his role as a Latin lover. “What may I call you?”

“Kar—no, Katherine,” she said, choosing the first elegant name she could come up with. “Take me to your room, please.”

“My pleasure,” Ross-Miguel said, and tucked her snugly against his waist and walked her out of the bar to the glass elevator that led to the guest rooms.

She couldn’t believe she was about to make love with the same man who drank milk out of the carton in the S&S kitchen, wandered around the office barefoot, and collected Superman comic books. Now, he was an urbane cosmopolite looking down at her in a way that told her he knew exactly how to drive her mad with lust and planned on doing so.

He held the elevator door for her, the gold bracelet emphasizing his strong hands. The elevator soared, sending her already-jumpy stomach to her knees. At the seventeenth floor, Miguel held the elevator door for her, then walked her down the hall, holding her so tightly she felt each talented finger dig into her muscles.

Outside his room, he turned her against the door. “I can’t wait another momento para tus…para tus…¿Cómo se dice…?” He frowned, looking for the word for lips, she was certain.

“Labios,” she provided.

“Exactamundo,” he said, butchering the Spanish, but she didn’t care because then he kissed her. Actually it was un gran beso—full of romance and desire and it made her weak with wanting.

Behind her back, he opened the door and they stepped into a room so sumptuous Kara was seized with worry that Ross couldn’t afford it. “I’ll pay half,” she blurted before she realized the effect that might have on the magic of the moment.

“But, Señorita Katherine, I am a wealthy man. My only joy is to spend my money on the people I care about.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Sure. But think about it.”

In answer, he pulled her into his arms and stroked her body through the silk, lifting her dress tantalizingly high on her thighs. “This is beautiful,” he said. “So thin I can feel the texture of your skin.” He cupped her bottom.

“No granny panties,” she murmured.

“I’ll say,” he said, stroking her again, then moving up to the top of her zipper. He was going to strip her and she couldn’t wait.

“And if I’d known I would meet you tonight, I wouldn’t have worn any.”

“Mmm,” he said, slowly lowering her zipper to her waist, his eyes on her the entire time. Cool air teased her back where her dress had opened. Then he pulled the front of her dress down far enough to reveal the black lace teddy she wore underneath. His eyes gleamed with approval.

She hadn’t known whether she’d actually meet a man tonight, let alone sleep with one, but she’d dressed sexy in order to feel sexy. Miguel’s expression told her she’d succeeded.

Miguel pushed her dress the rest of the way down and it whispered into a silky puddle at her spike-heeled feet.

She felt surprisingly calm—not nervous like she’d normally be at a moment like this—or fearful that she looked hippy or she’d be clumsy.

“You are so beautiful, Kara…. I mean Katherine. Do you know how bellísima you are?”

She blushed and smiled.

“Look.” He gently turned her to face the ornate full-length mirror beside a marble end table and stood behind her. “Do you see?”

Embarrassed at first, she glanced at herself in the mirror, caught a flash of black lace, then looked down.

That wasn’t enough for Miguel, who lifted her chin. “Look,” he murmured. “You are lovely.”

So Kara looked Katherine right in the eye. And liked what she saw. The sexy lingerie was perfect on her pale skin. Her blond hair had a sexy tousled look, her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes gleamed wickedly.

She reached up to cup Miguel’s jaw, loving the picture they made. Miguel’s body framed hers, his olive skin, dark brown suit and dark hair a delicious contrast to her fairness.

He reached under her arms to cup her breasts through the black lace, holding them completely, as if to own them. The sight was pure sex. Heat shot from her breasts to her core. She pushed her backside against him, sliding against his erection, glorying in it, feeling wicked and wanton.

Then Miguel slowly teased the teddy straps from her shoulders, his fingertips tickling her skin—an exquisite and shivery sensation. He tugged the flimsy fabric down to her waist, baring her breasts to them both in the mirror. She watched her nipples knot with arousal, feeling the sweet, tight pain of it at the same time.

Ross lifted her breasts lovingly, as if they were fragile as eggshells. His breath hissed and his eyes closed with the pleasure of touching her.

Then she had to touch his skin, to see him naked in the mirror, too. She turned and pushed his jacket from his shoulders and he shook it to the floor. She began to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers trembled and the second buttonhole was tight. The moment stretched.

“Allow me,” Ross said, working on the button himself, smiling confidently at her as he tried to loosen it. Except he couldn’t get it either. “Forget it,” he muttered in Ross’s voice. He crossed his arms, grabbed the shirt hem and yanked it up and over his head.

She ran her fingers across his taut pectorals, then his flat stomach. He groaned and closed his eyes.

“You must get lots of exercise in Argentina on your hacienda,” she murmured.

“Enough, I guess,” he said, sounding shaky with lust. He pushed her teddy down her body until it fell to the floor.

Once she was naked before him, he paused, awe in his expression. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sounding very Ross. He caught himself and resumed in his accent, “You are like art, Señorita Katherine. Perfección.” He ran his hands along the curves of her hips.

She felt so wonderful, so aroused, she didn’t have her usual urge to slip under the covers and keep her partner too busy to look at her very closely. Instead, she reveled in her nakedness and wanted to enjoy his.

“Now you,” she said, and unhooked his buckle and zipper, not surprised to find no underwear behind them. Miguel, like Ross seemed to be a man who would forgo any unnecessary barrier to sensation.

Ross stopped her from pushing his pants to the floor so he could take something out of his pocket—a short strip of condoms. Bless him for his thoughtfulness.

“I’m on the Pill,” she said. “And healthy.”

“I’m good,” he said, returning the condoms to his pocket before he let his pants fall.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, her gaze drawn down his body to his erection. She glanced up at his face.

“For you,” he said. “I am this way for you.”

She grasped him gently.

He groaned, gripping her upper arm, his fingers digging in. “You make me crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.

“You mean loco,” she murmured, sliding her hand along the solid length of him, loving the way he quaked at her touch. “And that’s what I want—to make you crazy in both your languages.” That was a very sexy thing to say, she realized, liking Katherine a lot.

Then Ross released her arms and slid his palms slowly down her arms and across her hips, his touch so light he barely made contact with her skin. He skimmed the surface of her pubic hair, setting the nerve endings there on fire. He was teasing her, and she couldn’t stand it.

“Touch me, please,” she said, pushing herself toward him. His fingers slid in and oh, so lightly brushed her clitoris. Liquid gushed from her and she feared she’d climax before she got to feel him inside her.

As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her off her feet and set her gently on the table beside the mirror, the cool marble a delicious shock to her thighs, and teased her with the tip of his penis.

She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as if this were the most natural position in the world instead of something completely new to her. She tried to pull him into her.

“Slowly, sweetheart. Let’s make this last.” He turned so they could see themselves in the mirror. “Look at us,” he whispered.

She looked. The sight was erotic and illicit—as if they were voyeurs to their own ecstasy. As she watched, Ross lowered his mouth to suck her left nipple. The sight set her on fire and the sweet tightness made her gasp. She threw back her head, afraid she would explode or scream or pass out.

“Is this good?” he asked her. “Does this feel good?”

“Oh…it…oh…it’s so…” She could only gasp single syllables.

“Good,” he said, triumph in his voice. He pushed into her, millimeter by exquisite millimeter.

“Please, more,” she moaned, not caring what she said as long as she got more of him.

He moved faster, his body trembling with urgency as he thrust deeper and harder.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she gasped. Now and then she caught sight of them in the mirror—her knees spread, breasts swollen and tight-tipped, his buttocks rippling as he thrust into her—powerful, yet needy, too.

Then his speed quickened even more. He moaned, then slammed into her and exploded, the spasm bringing on her own climax. She cried out, writhing and twisting while he pumped into her for long, glorious seconds. When it was over, she sagged against him, tucking her face into his neck. “That was amazing,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” he said, then, almost as an afterthought, “señorita.”

She smiled into his neck.

He slid out of her body, then hugged her in a familiar way. Uh-oh. She became abruptly aware that she’d just had sex with her friend Ross. She slid to the floor, embarrassed. “I’d better go,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

She grabbed the puddle of silk and lace—her dress and teddy—from the floor and rushed into the bathroom to dress. When she came out, Ross was sitting up in the bed, beautiful and tan against the white sheets.

“Why don’t you stay?” he said. “We have the room all night.” His expression promised even more sensual delights.

But that would spoil the illusion. Like Cinderella before the clock sounded midnight, she had to get away before reality sank in. She slipped on her shoes and shook her head. “That would be too much. You gave me exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad.”

“You were perfect—a perfect stranger.”

He saluted her. “I aim to please.” But that was too Ross, so he added, “Adiós, cara mía.”

“Adiós, Miguel, mi amor,” she said with a grin.

All the way home, she felt invigorated. She couldn’t believe that was her with her legs around Ross’s hips, crying out wildly for more. Just like one of Ross’s women. She’d never had sex like that in her life—reveling in her body, watching herself move and moan. And sitting on a table? Omigod. She would have thought it would be too awkward. But nooo. With Ross it was graceful and perfect.

She tested herself. Did she feel she was falling in love? Not at all. She felt sensual and confident and relaxed and wonderful. It had been just the way Tina described it—two people sharing physical pleasure. It didn’t have to be love.

Except, what would happen when she saw Ross at S&S for their noon game of spades? It could be really, really weird. Or really, really funny. Or really, really hot. She had no idea which.

She knew one thing—she’d split the hotel bill with him. She’d checked the rate on the way out. Three hundred dollars was too much for Ross to spend on a favor to a friend. Luckily, she knew that he was an extravagant guy without a thrifty impulse in his soul. Otherwise, she might have to wonder if there was more to this mystery date than was good for either of them.