Two-Step Temptation (5 page)

“I need to touch you,” he said against her ear.

“You’re doing nothing but touching me,” she countered, but her voice was breathy, hopeful, and her hips pressed more firmly into his.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Not here.” She tightened her grip on his hand, as if she was thinking about running.

“Where?”

“Um.” She considered, her gaze darting about, before focusing on a door at the top of the stairs. “The bride’s room.”

He eased back, taking a step toward the stairs, her hand firmly in his. She balked.

“We can’t. Not together. Everyone will know why.”

“So?”

She shook her head. “I go first. You follow in a few minutes. All right?”

He didn’t think he could hold out a few minutes without her, but he nodded once, anyway. She lifted her skirts and moved to the edge of the dance floor, then up the stairs, not looking back.

Christ. His cock hardened at the thought of having her alone. If anyone was paying too much attention, they’d know exactly what was going on because he couldn’t get his arousal under control, damn it. He waited, and followed her upstairs.

Haven jolted when he opened the door and pressed a palm to her chest. “That wasn’t a few minutes. That was a few seconds.”

“Didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.” He locked the door.

“I want a chance to clean up.” She nodded to the restroom at the end of the dressing chamber.

“You’re perfect.” Because he couldn’t stay away, he crossed the room to her, curving his fingers over her back, bringing her as close to him as he could get with all that damned fabric in the way. He slid his palm up to cup her head, angling her for his mouth.

God, she tasted like heaven, musky, with an undercurrent of sweetness from the champagne. She parted her lips beneath his, her arm hooking behind his neck, anchoring him as she explored his mouth. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any harder, that kiss almost did him in. He traced his fingertips down her smooth arms and back up to her shoulders, keeping his caress feather-light. Her moan vibrated softly against his mouth and she moved closer, but he still took it slow, letting her set the pace. She coasted her hands down his back, up to his shoulders, down to his waist as their tongues played, teased, tasted. Clutching his shirt, she moved back so she leaned against the counter below the mirrors.

The entire wall of mirrors. Eric’s balls tightened as he imagined what it would be like to make love to her there, where they could see everything. He wanted her naked, her back to him, her body stretched against his chest as he made love to her, watching her response to his thrusts reflected in the mirror. Unable to help himself, he nudged her just a bit with his hips. She pressed back and slid her palms up the front of his shirt. His breath caught in his throat as her fingers toyed with the buttons, then flicked one open, and another.

That signal he understood, and he found her zipper on the side of the dress. The bodice sagged against him. He eased back enough to loop the strap over her head so the dress puddled at her feet, leaving her standing before him in panties and heels. Speechless, he stared when she loosened her hair from its pins. He pulled her to him, his hand at the center of her back as he bent his head to her breasts.

So sweet, so smooth. He traced her nipple with his tongue as he plumped her breast in his palm. He sipped the tender flesh into his mouth. When she groaned and cupped the back of his head, he drew deeper, tonguing the bead of flesh and feeling her rub her thighs together as her desire built. He released her breast and turned to nuzzle the other, rubbing his lips over the soft skin, letting the short hairs of his goatee caress and arouse before he soothed the abrasions with his lips and tongue.

Her breathing was raspy now, and her scent filled his nostrils. His cock ached, needing her touch, her kiss, needing to be inside her. Had he put a condom in his wallet? Please let him have—except his wallet was downstairs, in his jacket.

With a groan, he straightened. God, she was beautiful, sprawled on the counter where hours ago she’d put on her makeup, now smudged from his mouth. Her breasts thrust up, her nipples reddened from his attention, hardened as if seeking more. Her arms were braced behind her, her thighs parted just slightly.

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t have a condom.”

“I do.”

“What? Where?”

“My purse is in that drawer over there.” She nodded to the other end of the counter.

Eric released her to retrieve it. “Why did you bring a purse? Your room is just upstairs.”

“I had to keep my room key somewhere.”

He opened the drawer to see half a dozen purses. Women confused the hell out of him. “So you kept your key here, in an unlocked drawer in an unlocked room?” He held up a purse, checking to see if it was hers.

She shook her head. “No one knew they were here, and they don’t know whose purse is whose, so they don’t know where the keys belong. See? Perfectly logical.”

He held up another purse. Again she shook her head.

“The lemon-colored one.”

“The yellow one,” he corrected, selecting it.

She nodded and held out her hand. He strolled toward her, dangling it out of her reach.

“So why did you bring a condom?”

“Because I knew you’d be here.”

“And?”

“And I have no resistance to you.”

“I like to hear that.” He passed her the purse, and she clicked it open to extract the condom. Gathering her close, he kissed her again, aware of both purse and packet falling to the counter behind her as she wound her arms around him, opening her mouth beneath his, pressing her breasts to his bare chest. He circled his thumbs over her hips, above the elastic of her white silk panties, and she moved her mound against him, back and forth over his erection.

Yeah, he wouldn’t hold out long like that. Capturing her hands, he pushed them down over his belly to his waistband. She unfastened his slacks and reached inside, stroking the length of him with her palms, through his Jockeys. He grunted her name and she broke the kiss to trail her mouth down the planes of his chest, pausing to tease his nipple, his navel. His gaze was drawn to her ass in the mirror as she bent at the waist to trace her lips along the line of hair from navel to his shorts.

She knelt before him, tugging his pants and Jockeys down in the same movement. She curled her fingers around the base of his shaft and took him into her mouth in long, smooth strokes.

His knees shook as he rested his palm on the top of her head. This fantasy had played in his mind daily since he’d left her eight months ago. She loved to give head, or at least she loved to show enthusiasm for giving head, and she knew all his sensitive spots, knew where to apply pressure for the greatest pleasure, knew which rhythm pleased him. She teased the head of his cock with her lips and tongue, sipping the precome from his slit, gliding him deep into her mouth, to the back of her throat, her tongue darting over him, her left hand squeezing, her right hand stroking his balls. Jesus, he was deep and her mouth was hot and slick. He watched her bobbing movements in the mirror, watched her take all of his cock, then slide along the length of him before swallowing him deep again. When he felt her hum around him, he knew he had to pull out or risk coming in her mouth.

“Maybe later,” he managed, his voice shaky as he backed away from her. “I want to be inside you.”

She stood, all lithe grace, and gave him the condom. As he rolled it on, she stepped out of her panties. God, he could smell her arousal, see how damp the fabric was.

“Lean over and put your hands on the counter.”

She did, lifting her ass just a bit more than necessary. Her pussy was slick and swollen. He cupped his palms over her naked hips, positioned himself and glided into her channel.

The combination of her heat and her moan and the sight of her watching him fuck her in the mirror nearly made him come. He held on to his orgasm with sheer willpower and drew back, then thrust again. Her eyes glazed, her pupils dilated in the mirror as she watched his cock disappear into her pussy again and again. Jesus, he couldn’t hold on long. He captured one of her hands from the counter and brought it to her breast. He squeezed it, before he guided it down her belly to her mound.

“Come,” he said against her ear, his finger sliding with hers over her clit, both of them stroking in time to his rhythm, the little bud hardening under their ministrations, her pussy getting wetter and wetter, her breath coming harder and harder.

She slammed her ass against him, her inner walls rippling around him, her orgasm pulsing against his fingers. He drove into her soft flesh, the sound of his groin slapping her ass arousing as hell, the sound of her wet pussy gripping his cock making him insane, just before he came in bursts that had the lights dimming, the earth shaking. But he was clasping Haven and all was fine with the world. Hands still on her hips, he lowered his mouth to kiss her shoulder, already planning the next time. He swirled his thumbs over the tender skin of her back, and savored her shudder. She still wanted him. If he played his hand right, he could make her want him back in her life.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze in the mirror, and her lips started to curl in a smile, as if she knew just what he was thinking.

Suddenly she straightened, smile gone. “Oh, God.”

“A little after the fact, don’t you think?” He chuckled, withdrawing and dealing with the condom.

“I have to serve the cake! Jill is going to kill me.” She snatched her dress off the floor and fumbled with the tangled straps. “How did this work?”

“Here.” He took the dress from her, but the slender silky straps were incomprehensible. “What the hell? You don’t remember?”

“Not at all.”

“Huh.” He shook out the dress by the hem and held it upside down. The straps fell into a pattern. “Like this.”

“Right. Thanks.” She snatched the dress from him and pulled it over her head, slipping her arms through the straps. Frustrated, she pulled it off and tried again when she didn’t get them right. “Here, can you get this?” She turned so he could zip it, then adjusted her breasts in the bodice and leaned forward to look in the mirror. “God, I look terrible.”

He folded his arms around her and smoothed a hand over her hair. “You look beautiful.”

“For someone who just had sex, not someone who should be serving cake.” She shoved him away and sniffed her fingers. “I smell like you. I need to wash up.” She hurried across the room to the restroom.

Eric bent down and picked up a piece of the frothy orange fabric. He held it out to her. “Where does this go?”

Moments later, Haven dashed downstairs, wrapping the stray sash around her waist, though she was pretty sure that wasn’t where it had started out. She slid into place behind Jill as Christine and Jared cut the cake.

Jill glared, then did a double take. “What did you do to your dress?”

Chapter Three

Haven paced her room as she waited for Eric. After she had served cake to countless guests, Eric had dragged her into the kitchen and licked her fingers clean, dark promise in his eyes.

“Your room or mine?” he’d asked.

“Mine.”

His frown was exaggerated. “I’ve barely been in my room this weekend.”

The caterers had chased them out. Jill had grabbed Haven and shoved her onto the dance floor with the other unmarried women to catch the bouquet. Eric had nearly busted a gut laughing when she let it fall at her feet.

They’d seen Christine and Jared off, and Haven slipped away while Eric was still socializing with his friends. Once she’d returned to her room, she debated how to wait. She shed the hated dress, tangling up in it one last time before she managed to get it over her head. She’d left her panties in the dressing room, damn it, and they were her favorite pair. Someone was bound to find them and wonder whose they were.

She considered her options. She hadn’t expected to be in this situation, so hadn’t brought any seductive clothing. Condoms were one thing, a just-in-case, but sexy nighties were planning. Besides, she hated sleeping in the damn things.

So she could wait naked beneath her robe, or in her yoga pants and hoodie.

After being in that dress, the latter won. Not like he wasn’t going to be turned on, right? Not like he didn’t know why he was coming to her room.

A soft rap sounded at the door. She crossed the room and opened the door before anyone saw him in the hall. He stood there in his rumpled tux, head tilted sexily, holding two bottles of champagne by the neck in one hand and two glasses in the other. Despite herself, she looked past him to see if anyone was around before she drew him into the room.

“Ashamed of me?”

“Just don’t want any questions.” She closed the door and turned to him, sweeping her hair from her face. “I can not drink that much. At least not if I still want to have fun. I don’t think holding my hair back is anyone’s idea of hot.”

“I thought we’d drink some.” He set the glasses down on the table near the window, then ripped the foil from the top of one bottle. “And play with some.”

“Play?” Intrigued by his fingers’ sure movements on the wire cage, followed by the cork, she moved closer. She winced at the pop, but snatched up the glasses to catch the overflow.

“Mmm.” He set the bottle down on the table and took the glass she offered. His eyes glinted as he traced a finger over the hollow of her throat. “I want to drink it from here.” He glided his fingers down between her breasts to her navel, above the waistband of the knit pants. “And here.” The finger traveled farther south. She parted her legs with a gasp. “And here.”

He dropped his hand away as if he hadn’t just stolen her breath and drenched yet another pair of her panties with anticipation. His focus on her, he took a casual sip of champagne. Without looking, he set his glass down on the table and curved his palm over her jaw, rubbing his thumb lightly over her cheek before kissing her, so soft, so tender, with such longing she shivered. His lips glided over hers, sweet with the champagne, his tongue teasing, his touch innocent. He was savoring her, and the thought made her heart ache. This was their last night together.