Invitation to Seduction: Open Invitation, Book 1 (7 page)

She jerked and opened her eyes. A man hovered. Close, but not too close. Tall, blond, and wide, like a linebacker or a bull rider, he braced himself against the wall. He didn’t touch her, yet his enticing cologne surrounded her.

“I’m here with somebody else,” she said.

“But he’s left you alone, hasn’t he.” Not a question, but a flat statement. As if he assumed her
date
was enjoying himself upstairs with someone else.

“He’ll be right back.” She hoped.

The man smiled and traced a finger along her nose without actually touching. “He’d be an idiot if he isn’t. He shouldn’t leave you alone. Some shark will definitely hit on you.”

“Are you a shark?”

He bared his teeth and crinkled attractive blue eyes. “I saw you standing over here, your eyes closed, looking like you needed to be kissed, and you turned me into one.”

Somehow her need had been written on her face. He was probably in his midthirties, with a low voice that caressed. Lines at his mouth suggested he laughed. A lot. He smelled good, and he looked good...

“He will be back,” she said, glancing once more at the door.

“Call me selfish, but I hope he won’t be.”

If he’d been more overt, more unattractive, or less sure of himself, she wouldn’t have been flattered. But he did flatter her. She smiled slightly, liking the attention.

He pushed away from the wall and held out his hand. “Let’s make a run for it, before he returns.”

She looked from his hand to his charming eyes. “No thanks.”

He cocked his head. One corner of his mouth lifted as he assessed her. “I don’t mind a threesome. Not if it’s with you.”

“I mind.” Her date, if he could be called that in this place, stood just beyond the big guy’s shoulder. He wasn’t as tall or as wide, but his tone of voice more than made up for it.

Still smiling, the blond man turned. “You shouldn’t leave her out here by herself.”

She looked at the man who had taken her so thoroughly, so intimately, and wondered if he knew she wouldn’t have gone with anyone else, no matter how long he left her. She might have run, but she wouldn’t have taken another man’s hand.

Face expressionless except for a dark glint in his eyes, he stood with his feet slightly apart, his hands at his sides. Like a gunslinger ready to do battle. For her. Finally, looking at her, he said, “She isn’t alone anymore.”

With those words, she knew he referred to so much more than this moment, this night. She stepped forward to take his hand.

The blond guy said, “Lucky man.” Then he melted into the swimming pool of bodies and disappeared.

Squeezing her hand and letting his gaze follow the crowd, her lover murmured, “Yeah, I am lucky.” Then he looked down at her. “He made you feel good, didn’t he?”

She dipped her head so he couldn’t see the truth, but he lifted her chin until she was forced to meet his eyes. “It’s okay you felt that way. You’re beautiful, and I’m not the only one who wants you.” He cupped her throat. “Every man here does.” He turned, pulling her beneath his arm, then bent to her ear. “See how they look at you.”

“I don’t think I see the same thing you do.”

“Over there. That one.” He pointed to a man near the bottom of the stairs, a curvy brunette at his side. “He’s not seeing her, he’s looking at you. Watch his eyes.”

She did. Turned half toward her, the man let his gaze slide from her short skirt to her breasts in the see-through blouse.

He eased her in front of him, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Look at them all, see them watch you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She saw several men’s gazes on her. Eyeing her, salivating over her. She leaned into him, felt the hard press of his penis at the small of her back.

“But you’re mine,” he whispered into her ear.

She shivered. Yes, she was his. Yet she reveled in the desire of all those men. Her nipples hardened. She moistened between her legs. Then she pushed back against his erection, rubbed him, letting him know that the others didn’t matter beyond this moment of titillation.

He nipped her lobe, then said, “Let’s get out of here. I want to be alone with you.”

He turned her once more, took her hand again, then leaned in to rub his nose against hers. The caress was so sweet, so familiar, and he was so
there
.

He grazed her knuckles with a kiss. There was something about a man looking in your eyes when he touched you. Her heart beat faster. “Where are we going?”

He pivoted, pulling her along with him. “It’s a surprise.”

With a moment’s hesitation, she let him step ahead of her.

He felt the slight lag and stopped while the crowd flowed around them. “I’m not taking you to my place. You don’t need to be frightened.”

He didn’t frighten her. Not right now. But she didn’t know him. She’d let him fuck her, but she didn’t know him at all, or what he might be capable of. There was also the issue that had troubled her. “You sent me the invitation, didn’t you?”

His lack of answer confirmed her educated guess.

She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly. “How did you know my address?”

He tipped his head back and swallowed, his eyes a shade darker when his gaze met hers again. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

“Did you follow me home that night?”

Again, no response. She didn’t want to be afraid of him.

He tugged on her hand, pulling her close so that his voice was the only thing she could concentrate on. “I want you. For tonight, if that’s all I can have. Then I’ll leave you alone.” He rubbed his face in her hair. “If that’s what you want.”

The damage, if any at all, was already done. Right now, she wanted to believe him.

He waited, her hand held to his chest, over his heart.

The viewing hall doors flapped open, emitting a burst of laughter and music. Someone bumped her arm. She stood in the middle of a crowded lobby, naked under her skirt and her breasts covered only by a thin, see-through blouse. Sex upstairs, sex downstairs, sex everywhere around them, yet his dark gaze on her wasn’t about sex at all. It was passion, it was fire, it was what she’d been longing for, dreaming of, fantasizing about. She shivered. In his eyes, she saw the invitation to seduction. And more.

“I’ll go with you.” Wherever he wanted to take her.

* * * * *

He’d borrowed a friend’s car. Not that he figured she’d leave with him, but he didn’t want the truck, with its company logo, sitting in the underground parking for her to see. Now Stephen damned the bucket seats. He wanted her next to him.

Her scent filled the car. Citrus and sex. More than the hand brake sat between them. She hadn’t said a word since he’d closed the passenger door. He sat tongue-tied, his guts twisted into knots, like a first date at sixteen.

For a moment, when she’d stood there looking into his eyes, waiting, wanting, he’d wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to say she’d given him the address herself, months ago, so he could mail the commission checks. But he couldn’t kill the fantasy, not yet, just as he couldn’t let her go home. So he’d said nothing, let her draw her own conclusions, and hoped to hell they didn’t scare the shit out of her.

She’d regretted her decision the moment they entered the garage. He’d felt her doubt in her withdrawal, her hand slipping from his, her distance growing in inches and in silence.

He didn’t take her far, only a fifteen-minute drive from the club to the reservoir. The park closed at dusk. He pulled over just short of the gate. The moon glimmered across smooth water, and when he opened the door, warm summer air caressed his face the way he wanted her to stroke him. He stood, waiting for the soft snick of her door latch to tell him she followed.

The grass leading down to the water’s edge had been clipped recently. The sharp tang of its fresh shave rose up from the ground. He wanted to make love to her here. In the moonlight. Amid the stars and the sweet night air.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, as she came to stand beside him. Close, but not close enough.

He stuck his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to pull her beneath his arm. “I like it at night when no one’s around.”

“It’s quiet.”

Crickets chirped in the woods behind them. An owl hooted. He knew she meant the quiet without voices. Nature didn’t disturb the peace, people did. “The afternoon wind dies down so the water’s still.”

He turned slightly to look at her in profile. She hugged her arms to her breasts, covering the sheerness of her blouse. Her hair, artfully messy, framed her face. She had an elegant nose, aristocratic, with the slightest of upturns. Full lips, defined chin, and the smooth lines of her throat leading down to the hollow. He wanted to taste the scented skin there.

I love you.

He wouldn’t say the words, not now, probably not ever. Yet he could acknowledge the emotion to himself. She was beautiful. Talented, passionate, thoughtful, and caring. Everything he’d ever wanted, all the things he’d never found. Not in one woman.

And she was here with him.

He opened the car door, put the key in the ignition, and rolled down the window. Turning on the radio, a soft, meandering jazz melody floated out into the night. A lover’s song.

As he stood and closed the door, the music wafted softly on the air. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

He could give her that at least, a dance.

With the moon highlighting her hair and the crickets adding their unique voice to the ensemble, she came into his arms. “I’m not very good,” she whispered against his chest.

“You’re perfect.” He held her close in the moonlight.

The song ended; another began. He didn’t let her go.

“What’s your name?” She leaned back, looking at him. “I don’t know what to call you.”

Over her head, he stared across the water. Yet another lie between them. He was so damn tired of lying, but he didn’t know another way. Not at this point. “Call me whatever you like.”

She snuggled closer, put a hand up to play with the ends of his hair. “I think I’ll call you Stephen.”

His heart seized in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe for several seconds. He put his face to the sky and forced in two great gulps of air. When he could speak again, he said, “Yeah, Stephen would be fine.”

Chapter Six

Why did his arms around her shoulders and the gentle caress of his breath at her ear feel as sweetly seductive as his body filling hers? Why did his voice make her tremble when he asked her to dance with him as easily as when he told her he’d make her come over and over against his tongue?

“Stephen?” She liked saying the name. She’d feel weird tomorrow when she emailed the real Stephen, but for now, she liked the sweet sound of his name on her lips.

“Hmm?” He rested his cheek against her ear. His voice vibrated inside her.

“I like this as much as I like it when you make me come.”

He rubbed his cock against her. “So do I.”

She kissed his throat. “You make me feel...passionate.”

He cupped her face and tipped her head back. “You are passionate. You’re alive with it. You should have a man making love to you all night long.”

She searched his eyes. With the moon behind him, they were black as night. She thought maybe he could see into her soul. “I would like that more than anything.” She couldn’t tell him the depth with which she needed that loving.

He moved her in their slow dance. One finger slid over the wedding and engagement rings she wore. “Tell me about this.”

Her heart pounded. “I’m married.”

He touched his lips lightly to hers. “I know that.”

“Does it matter?” Burying her face against his neck, she drew in the spice of his aftershave. Inside, her stomach flipped, waiting for his answer.

It took forever. “Not for tonight. But tell me anyway.”

How could she tell him she was feeling used up and washed out? That going to the club had been the desperate act of a pitiful woman who needed a man to get it up for her. Yet she felt she could and whispered, “He doesn’t want me anymore.”

His arm tightened across her back. “Then he’s an idiot.” He rocked her. “Is it possible he’s having an affair?”

She almost laughed. It was better than crying. “No, I don’t think so.” If only it were that simple, but she didn’t use the
unmentionable
word. She’d betrayed her marriage tonight, but calling her husband impotent seemed almost worse.

Stephen didn’t say anything. Silence beat against her ears. She looked up to gauge his reaction but could read nothing in his expression. “I’m not lying to myself.”

He pushed her head to his shoulder, then stroked her back. “I don’t really know.”

She gulped a breath. Her eyes suddenly ached. “I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“If he doesn’t make love to you, it isn’t because of you. It’s him.”

That was exactly what her husband always said. Now she was the one who didn’t answer.

He stepped back. Her body screamed at the loss of his heat.

“Look at me.”

God, he was beautiful. His hair frosted with moonlight, the strong face, the hard body. Intensity radiated from him.

“You are the most desirable woman I have ever known.”

She closed her eyes and drank in his words as if they were water and sun to a wilting flower.

“I wanted you the first moment we—” He stopped. “From the first moment I saw you.”

She was so damn weak and pathetic for needing to hear him say how much he hungered for her.

He kissed her eyelids, feathering down to her lips. Rising on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him. She touched her tongue to his, sucking him. He nipped then licked her lower lip.

“I want to make love with you again,” he murmured.

She knew what they’d done hadn’t been making love. This time, she willed it to be different. “I want to taste you. I want you in my mouth, Stephen.”

His fingers tensed, and something fierce glittered in his eyes, then he took her with a soul-deep kiss that stole her breath and set her ablaze.