04 - Born to be Wilde.txt (27 page)

She placed her utensils on her plate, and when she reached for his dishes across the table, he stopped her.

"I'll do this," he insisted, taking the plate from her grasp. "Why don't you go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room while I clean up the kitchen real quick. I'll be there in five minutes, max."

"Okay."

She headed into the adjoining room, and instead of sitting down on one of the brown suede couches to wait for Daniel, she strolled over to the wall unit and casually scanned the items on the shelves. There were hardbound books, most of which were spy novels, along with the James Bond novels he'd told her he collected. There was a nice stereo unit and a stack of CDs ranging from jazz and country to rock, but what drew her attention the most was the array of framed photographs he had on display.

She smiled at the picture of Daniel with two little boys dressed in baseball uniforms—his nephews, she guessed. And it was obvious by Daniel's affectionate grin and the way he was ruffling one of the boys' hair just how much he adored them. Another photograph showed him with another man his age, who possessed similar looks but appeared very serious in nature, and a beautiful woman caught laughing at something just as the snapshot had been taken. Siblings, she assumed, and moved on to another picture of an older couple who were clearly his parents.

His father was handsome, with distinguished features and the appearance of a well-established doctor. In the photo, his mother was wearing a designer summer outfit, and the left hand resting on her husband's chest sported a huge rock of a diamond and an equally impressive diamond tennis bracelet. They were standing next to a new Jaguar, with a two-story estate home in the background, confirming what she'd known all along—that despite the modest salary he no doubt made as a high school math teacher, Daniel Barnett came from a wealthy, upscale, and classy family.

And Sydney was as far from classy as a woman could get. Considering her checkered past and the things she'd done to get to where she was today, there was no way that she'd ever fit in Daniel's world beyond a brief fling. And he had to know that, too.

It was time to be assertive, to heat things up, get the deed done, and move on before she got any more involved with Daniel than she already was.

With that plan in mind, she scanned the stack of CDs and chose The Fray and slipped it into the disc player. Seconds later a rhythmic beat filled the room, along with the lead singer's smooth, rich vocals. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep, relaxing breath and let the seductive cadence invade her mind, her body, and her senses.

"Nice choice of music," Daniel said from behind her.

Blinking her eyes back open, she turned around and gave him a slow, sultry smile. "I'm glad you approve."

He sat down on the couch and met her gaze from across the room. "You never did say how everything went with Cassie and the Halloween party she went to last night."

It figured that the man wanted to talk. He probably assumed they'd spend the next hour or so just chit-chatting, as they had on all their dates thus far. But not tonight. She'd allow him this one last question, and then it was show time.

"She was in bed asleep when I got home from work." she said, and started a slow dance by herself, with her hips swaying oh-so-subtly, and her gauzy skirt swirling enticingly around her legs as she gradually strutted her way closer to him. Her fingers toyed with the top button on her blouse, which effectively drew his gaze to her chest. "This morning she told me she had a good time and everything seemed fine, so I'm going to have to trust that it was."

He shifted on the couch and forced his gaze back up to hers. "See, letting her go to the party wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"No," she admitted, and unfastened the first button on her blouse, then another, as he watched. Truth be told, she was starting to relax with Cassie, just a little. Her daughter had given her no reason to worry or suspect that anything had happened outside of normal teenager fun, and she was trying to take Daniel's advice and not go searching for trouble unless there was a good reason to.

Another button slipped open, giving Daniel a quick, seductive peek at the pink and white lace push-up bra she'd bought a few days ago, specifically for an occasion like this. The cups were lined, and while the bra showcased the full mounds of her breasts to their best advantage, it also left enough covered to stir his imagination.

His gaze darkened as she neared, his irises like rich, burnished gold. "Sydney… what are you doing?" His tone was an interesting combination of curiosity and desire.

"I'm taking things between us to the next level." With a practiced roll of her shoulders, her blouse slid down her arms and off. She let it fall to the floor, then brushed her fingers across the bare skin of her abdomen until they reached the elastic waistband of her skirt.

"It's called a relationship," he said huskily.

She smiled and inched the skirt over the swell of her hips, teasing him from only a short distance away. "It's called an affair," she corrected him, because it was important to her that he not read more into this connection between them than there was. A relationship implied that there was a commitment and emotional ties involved, and that kind of intimacy wasn't something she was willing to give to any man.

Sex, however, was all about mutual pleasure, and that was her goal tonight. "Ever had a personal, private lap dance?" she asked.

He shook his head, still looking way too calm and casual, when most guys at this point would be panting for more. "Can't say I have, but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

She laughed, liking the idea that she was going to be Daniel's first. With a slight shimmy of her hips, her skirt fluttered to the plush carpet around her feet, leaving her scantily clad in the bra and a pair of matching lace bikini panties designed to make a man drop to his knees and beg. Then there were the high heels she was wearing, which did great things for her legs as she picked up the beat of the music once again.

His breathing, she noticed, had deepened, and he didn't look so casual and relaxed anymore. She held back a triumphant smile and lifted her hands to her hair, striking a very provocative pose. "You know, when I was a stripper, private lap dances were where I'd make all my big money."

Daniel did his absolute best not to outwardly react to that comment, because he knew that's exactly what Sydney was angling for. To shock him. To force him to see and think of her as nothing more than a physical object, as other men did. And admitting to what she perceived as a scandalous past was the equivalent of her putting up barriers around her emotions, and in her mind made this thing between them all about the physical.

Physically, yeah, he was aching and hard just watching her dance in front of him like temptation and sin, wearing nothing more than a skimpy bra, barely there underwear, and fuck-me high heeled shoes.

"I didn't know you were a stripper," he managed evenly, though he honestly didn't care about her past. It was the present, and the possibility of a future with this woman who intrigued him at every turn, that mattered to him.

"Yep, and a damn good one at that." To prove her point, she turned her back on him, and with her legs straight and slightly parted, she bent over and stroked her ankle and calf, giving him an up-close and personal view of her smooth, perfect ass. The position was uninhibitedly sexual, as was the coquettish way she glanced over her shoulder at him. "I had clients come in nightly and ask specifically for me."

He barely had enough blood left in his brain to think coherently. At least with his bigger head. He swallowed thickly and did his best to remain impassive about this brazen display of hers, when he knew she was doing everything in her feminine power to get a reaction out of him. "You were that good, huh?"

From her upside-down position, her gaze narrowed ever-so-slightly, then a sly smile curved her lips and she straightened, facing him again. She sauntered purposefully toward him, all long supple limbs, lush undulating curves, and a soft sexy tumble of auburn waves bouncing gently around her shoulders.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and she touched her fingers to the upper swell of one breast, then traced the inviting curve of flesh to the deep V of her cleavage. "I think I ought to show you just how good I was," she said, a challenge in her low, naughty tone.

Okay, maybe he'd pushed her too far, goaded her just a little too much, but there was no backing down now. Her giving him a lap dance was going to test every bit of his control, possibly shatter his restraint when it came to her, but he had a feeling that's exactly what she was striving for. Which made him all the more determined to make sure this scenario didn't escalate into a physical encounter, not when she still wanted to believe that he was in this purely for sex.

Give it your best shot, sweetheart. "Please, do," he murmured, daring her right back.

She nudged his legs apart and moved in between, just as the song playing ended and another began. This one had a slower beat, and Sydney's body eased right into the rhythm, hips circling, thighs shifting, as her hands touched and caressed all that smooth, bare skin. Eyes closed, her head fell back on a sigh, and her torso undulated, slowly, sinuously—just inches away from his face. So close he could smell her soft, feminine scent, could see the tight points of her nipples straining against the fabric of her bra.

The urge to reach out and stroke her, everywhere, was strong, and he closed his hands into tight fists at his sides. Undoubtedly, this woman was every man's erotic fantasy, and that was part of the problem—he didn't want to be just another man in a long line of them, and he refused to fit into the same low class as all the other jerks in her life. He wanted more than Sydney's body, more than one night of hot sex, and convincing her of that, and his honest intentions, meant suffering through this sexual game of hers.

With an amazingly lithe move, she turned around in the V of his legs. Bracing her hands on his knees, she lowered herself toward his lap, slowly, leisurely sliding her bottom along his thighs and barely grazing the thick, aching erection pressing insistently against the fly of his pants.

His heart pumped hard and fast in his chest, and it was all he could do to hold in a deep groan as she added to the torture, grinding down gently against his crotch and adopting a forward and backward motion with her hips that increased the burning need surging through his veins. Just when he thought he wasn't going to last, she laid back against him in a full body slide. Her head came to rest on his shoulder, which gave him an unobstructed view of her gorgeous breasts, the slope of her belly, her slightly spread legs.

She took advantage of that fact, arousing herself, and him, with her hands. Her fingers dipped into her bra and cupped her breasts, while her thumbs played with the rigid tips. She moaned, wriggled against him, and glided her flattened palms over her stomach… then lower, between her thighs.

Lust and desire inflamed him, threatening to unravel not only his control, but all his good intentions, too. Knowing that watching her pleasure herself was going to be his undoing, which she no doubt was hoping for, he glanced away and started going through complicated math problems in his head… anything to keep his cool, which wasn't an easy feat when he had a near-naked woman rubbing up against him.

The music continued, and she rolled over gracefully so that she was sitting on his thighs facing him, with her knees straddling his hips. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she scooted closer until his constrained cock was nestled right up against the damp panel of her panties.

And still, he didn't so much as touch her.

He looked up into her face, which was flushed a warm shade of pink that continued down her throat and spread out toward her breasts. Her lashes were half-mast, but he could still see the soft, sultry green of her eyes, glittering with heat and hunger. Her lips were parted, her breathing as ragged as his own. Oh, yeah, she was thoroughly aroused, and the sudden determination that flashed in her gaze didn't bode well for him at all.

Neither did the wicked smile curling her lips as she smoothed her hands down over his chest. He was wearing a shirt, but her palms burned him straight through the thin material to his skin. Her slender fingers found his taut nipples, and she scraped over them with her thumbnails, eliciting a deep groan from him that seemed to give her a tremendous amount of satisfaction. Lower those sweet hands of hers traveled, until they reached the waistband of his trousers.

Before she could unfasten the first snap, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away. No words were spoken as they stared at one another in a silent battle of wills, but then again, none were needed. He was so damned close to surrendering, and she knew it, too. Sex was her goal, and there was no doubt in his mind, or hers, that if she released his shaft and touched him, stroked him, he'd be unable to resist her.

With her hands still firmly in his grasp and held out to the side—he wasn't about to let her go—she used other feminine wiles to get what she was after. She rolled her hips into him, subtly, skillfully, simulating the erotic grind and thrust of sex, and no amount of algebra equations could stop his body from responding. His own need kicked up a notch, pushing him closer to the point of no return.

She dropped her head back, arched into him, and moaned. Her breasts were inches away from his mouth, so tempting, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to lean forward and taste her with his tongue… to push her down onto the couch and give her exactly what she was begging for.