This morning, however, Ian had been full of energy after a good night’s sleep, and had whisked her off to the hotel’s fitness center for an hour’s workout. Tessa had grumbled a bit about being woken at such an early hour, but after half an hour of jogging on the treadmill she’d admitted to herself that she now felt less guilty about all of the pastries, bread, and café au laits she had been indulging in since their arrival in Paris.
After breakfast back in the owner’s suite, they took a long walk through the trendy Le Marais district, browsing through the boutiques and art galleries, before Ian summoned the hotel limo to take them to the Rue Saint Honoré. The area was filled with expensive designer shops and boutiques, including the one they were ensconced in right now.
The sales clerk who’d waited on them had been all too eager to help, recognizing both the quality of the clothing they were wearing, and the Gregson name. In rapid, fluent French, Ian had told the woman exactly what he was looking for, and she’d been quick to comply, bringing a selection of gorgeous cocktail dresses, fabulous shoes, and exquisite lingerie into the spacious, private dressing room - the one reserved for VIP’s.
Tessa sighed as she began to remove the slinky black beaded dress she’d just modeled for Ian’s critical eye. “I’m not sure why it makes a difference where it was purchased,” she argued, hanging the dress up. “And all of these look very, uh, flashy. The kind you’d wear to a nightclub or a big party.”
He winked at her, then lowered his gaze admiringly to her lavender and cream lingerie. “Good guess. The former, that is, not the latter.”
She gave him a tiny frown. “You’re taking me to a nightclub? Really? I mean, that just doesn’t seem like your usual, ah, style. Or mine, for that matter.”
Ian chuckled. “You’re being very diplomatic, love. Are you sure you didn’t mean to say that I’m a bit old to be going to nightclubs?”
“No, I definitely did not mean to say that!” she denied emphatically. “And you know how upset I get when you keep referring to yourself as old. I was just surprised, that’s all, because neither of us are the nightclubbing sort.”
He shrugged as she took the next dress off its hanger. “I won’t deny that it’s not my favorite sort of place. Colin can keep calling me a stuffed shirt until the end of days, but that won’t change my opinion. I much prefer going to the symphony or the theater or just having a quiet dinner with friends to being in a noisy club.”
Tessa looked at him in confusion, wiggling into the tight-fitting, nude metallic bandage dress. “Then why are you even thinking about going out to one tonight?”
Ian stood and deftly zipped up the low back of the dress before dropping a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Because you’re young and beautiful and hot,” he murmured huskily. His hand caressed her hip through the shimmery fabric. “You’re in Paris for the first time in your life, a city known for its nightlife. And it would be a damned shame if you didn’t have at least one night out on the town. So tonight we’ll both let our hair down a little, have a few drinks, and go dancing.” His lips caressed her throat as his hand slid around to splay over her belly. “And so I can be the envy of every man in Paris when I walk inside the club with you on my arm. Let me see you in this dress now, love.”
She turned around slowly, feeling his intense gaze taking in every detail of the short, low-cut dress. She resisted the urge to tug the hem down, feeling half-naked with so much of her long legs exposed, not to mention the amount of cleavage on display. But for once Ian didn’t seem to have a problem with the quantity of bare skin she was flashing, and instead nodded his approval.
“Yes, that’s the one for sure,” he stated. “And - let’s see. Ah, these will go nicely with the dress.”
Tessa watched in fascination as he selected shoes, a clutch bag, lingerie, and a pair of dangly drop earrings from the assortment the sales clerk had brought in along with the half dozen or so dresses. He continued to amaze her with his innate fashion sense, always seeming to know the colors and styles that suited her best. She nodded her approval at the pair of high, strappy stilettos, metallic clutch, and gold diamante earrings.
But she couldn’t resist smirking a bit as she picked up the miniscule thong of nude lace. “Really?” she asked, arching a brow. “For as little as this will cover I might as well go commando. Same with the bra. The dress is fully lined and the bodice is structured enough that I don’t really need to wear a bra.”
Ian grinned lasciviously as he gazed at her cleavage. “But it’s not offering much in the way of support, darling. Better wear the bra. The thong, too.” He squeezed her buttock. “Because if I suspected for even a moment that you were naked underneath this dress, it’s all I’d be able to think about all night.”
He ran a finger over the lavish display of her breasts in the low-cut dress before pressing a kiss in the deep valley between them. Tessa felt her nipples harden instantly, her panties become damp, and her body responding as it always did to his nearness, his scent, his overwhelmingly masculinity. She swayed towards him, her breasts pushing against the black cashmere pullover covering his torso, and she clutched his biceps for balance.
Her gaze must have betrayed the instant lust he had stirred up, because he gave a throaty laugh and a brief shake of his head.
“Oh, no, you don’t, you little flirt,” he teased. “You’ve already seduced me once in a dressing room, as I recall. I’m not going to succumb to your wiles in a public place again. Besides, it’s almost time for lunch, and then afterwards perhaps we’ll have time to indulge in our very favorite French pastime.”
Tessa turned around so he could unzip her. “Pastries and café au lait?” she asked hopefully.
“That, too,” murmured Ian as he slid the dress off her body. “But what I was really thinking about was more l’amour dans l’apres-midi.”
She shivered in reaction at his seductively spoken words. “That - that definitely sounds much better than cake and coffee.”
“You’re really sure about this?”
Tessa glanced up anxiously at Ian, clutching his arm tightly against her breast as they stood just inside the private dance club he’d arranged for them to attend tonight.
He rubbed the nape of her neck reassuringly. “I’m very sure, yes. According to what I’ve been told by several of my friends here in Paris, this is the most exclusive club in the city, if not all of Europe. The waiting list to gain membership is years long, and even getting a one night guest pass is all but impossible unless you’re some sort of celebrity.”
She gave him a little eye roll. “Or a member of the Gregson family. Is there anyone you don’t know? Or anyplace you aren’t welcomed with open arms?”
During their stay in Paris, she had continued to be awestruck by how the Gregson name always seemed to snag them the very best table at the very finest restaurants; how every staff member at the hotel knew who they were and went out of their way to make sure their every whim was instantly satisfied; how Ian had managed to arrange the private tour at the Louvre; the personalized attention they had received this morning at what was surely one of the most exclusive boutiques in the city; the front row seats to a sold-out jazz performance.
But she shouldn’t have been surprised, not really, when she’d already been witness to the way Ian commanded attention wherever they went. He had that sort of authoritative air about him that quietly demanded action, and it was very, very obvious from the way he dressed to the dignified, regal way he carried himself and his upper crust British accent that he expected his wishes to be carried out promptly and thoroughly. And he seemed to take all of this in stride, to act as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be waited on and catered to in such a manner.
At the same time, however, Ian was always gracious and well-mannered, never once acting like a privileged snob or arrogant aristocrat, and was always quick to express his thanks. He was the perfect gentleman at all times - except, of course, in the privacy of their bedroom, where he fre
quently and exuberantly unleashed the wildness inside of him, the wildness that only Tessa knew existed beneath the suave, sophisticated man that the rest of the world saw.
Ian gave her a very satisfied looking smile. “Wealth and power and knowing the right people certainly aren’t the most important things in life, darling. But they do come in handy on frequent occasions. Like tonight, when I wanted to bring my beautiful fiancée dancing at the top club in Paris. Fortunately, Josef knows the owner of this club very well, and getting us in here only took a brief phone call on his part. Something he was more than happy to do, by the way.”
Josef was the Swiss-born manager of the Gregson Hotel here in Paris, and had been more than eager to provide whatever assistance Ian and Tessa had needed during their stay. The two men had known each other for more than a decade, having worked at three different hotels together over the years, including Ian’s stint here in Paris as the hotel manager. That news had surprised Tessa somewhat, though of course she’d known he had worked his way up through the company, with his father and uncle insisting that he and his brothers have a full, working knowledge of how both the hotels and the corporate offices functioned.
They remained poised at the entrance to the crowded dance floor, with Tessa taking in the frenetic scene around them. The only other times she’d been to a club had been that ill-fated evening she and Peter had reluctantly agreed to go out with her former co-workers, and then last summer for Julia’s bachelorette party. But her two brief experiences had been more than enough for her to know that the club scene was definitely not for her, and she wondered anew at Ian’s purpose in bringing her here tonight.
He took her firmly by the hand, and skirted around the edge of the packed dance floor until they reached an empty booth that had a reserved sign planted firmly in the middle of the table. Ian spoke in French to the staff member whose job seemed to be guarding the half dozen or so private booths and tables clustered in this section of the club, and the young man nodded eagerly as he gestured for them to take a seat. Less than a minute later, a smartly uniformed cocktail waitress arrived to take their order, and Tessa didn’t for a second miss the very interested look the sultry, dark-haired woman gave Ian. As usual, though, he ignored the rather blatant smile directed his way and merely gave her their order - a very rare and expensive single malt Scotch for Ian, and a lemon drop - one of Tessa’s favorite drinks. The waitress’s smile faded abruptly at the cool, formal tone of Ian’s voice, as well as the way he wrapped his arm possessively around Tessa’s shoulders and pulled her against his side, close enough for their thighs to be practically glued together.
Tessa grinned up at him as the waitress tottered off on her high heels to get their drinks. “She looked very disappointed, didn’t she?”
He shrugged. “She shouldn’t be. All she needed to do was see the way I was looking at you to realize that you’re the only woman in the world as far as I’m concerned. And if she makes you uncomfortable, darling, I can easily ask for a different waitress.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Especially since I’m not sure how much more I’ll be drinking tonight after that bottle of champagne we had at dinner. Not to mention the pre-dinner cocktails. I’m already a little tipsy.”
Ian gave her a very suggestive leer. “Only a little?” he asked teasingly. “You know how much I enjoy it when you’ve had a bit more than usual to drink. You’re even more amorous then.”
Telling herself that she really wasn’t doing this to make sure every other woman in the club - including the overly bold cocktail waitress - knew that Ian was her man and that nobody had better even think of flirting with him, Tessa hooked an arm around his neck and brought his head down to meet her very eager, very amorous kiss. She felt the rumble of laughter deep in his chest as he hauled her against him, but he kissed her back with equal ardor. Her free hand dropped to his hard, muscular thigh caressingly, but stopped shy of sliding further up his leg to where she knew he’d already be hard.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” he whispered, his teeth nibbling seductively on her earlobe. “You’re already very, very amorous, aren’t you darling? Enough that you probably don’t need this drink.”
Their drinks had been left on the table during their passionate embrace, and Tessa felt a rather mean-spirited pleasure in knowing that the waitress had witnessed that very steamy kiss. She picked up the frosted martini glass that held her drink, and clinked it against Ian’s crystal tumbler of Scotch.
“Cheers,” she told him with a saucy wink, and then bolted half the lemon drop down in one gulp.
He laughed, and merely sipped his drink before setting the glass back on the table. “Here’s to our last evening in Paris,” he toasted. “At least for this trip. I hope that you enjoyed our visit here, Tessa, because this has always been one of my very favorite cities in the entire world.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes! I love it here, too. And I’ll happily return whenever you like. These past few days have been wonderful, Ian. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Ian pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re very welcome, darling,” he murmured. “And while we will certainly return to Paris as often as possible, I have many other places in the world I want to show you. Which brings up the subject of our honeymoon. Have you given any thought as to where you might like to go? Any specific place that you’ve always wanted to visit?”
“Well, you’ve already brought me to Italy and Paris, so I suppose I should pick a different place for our honeymoon,” she mused. “Someplace with a beach and where we can have total privacy sounds perfect. I’ll let you come up with some suggestions that fit the bill.”
“Several come to mind. We could go to the South Pacific, Fiji or Bora Bora or Tahiti. Or back to Hawaii. And we have a number of properties in the Caribbean, of course - St. John, Barbados, Aruba. Though my favorite of them all is on Virgin Gorda. While we’re in London, we can take a look at the individual websites so that you can find out a bit more about each one.”
Tessa snuggled up against him, her hand dropping back down to rest on his thigh. “I never imagined I’d ever get the chance to travel to any of those places,” she confessed. “But, honestly, so long as I’m alone with you, it doesn’t really matter where we go.”
She could see how his hazel eyes darkened, even in the dimly lit club. “Careful about making those sorts of statements, love,” he cautioned. “Because it only tempts me to lock you up in a hotel suite nonstop for two weeks. Without any clothes.”
“I wouldn’t complain about that,” she whispered back, her hand inching ever closer to his crotch. “As long as you were naked, too, of course.” She slid her other hand inside his suit jacket to caress his rib cage and abs. “In fact, we could go back to our hotel room right now and get in some practice for our honeymoon.”
Ian chuckled but took a firm grip of the hand that was getting perilously close to his private parts. “Greedy girl,” he crooned, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Wasn’t this afternoon enough for you?”
“Never,” she replied emphatically. “It’s never enough.”
He brought the hand he’d captured up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “It’s the same for me, you know,” he told her in a low, husky voice. “We don’t have to stay here very long, love. I just wanted you to have the experience of being in a place like this. Finish your drink, and then perhaps you’ll let me embarrass myself out on the dance floor.”
She took a sip of her drink. “You’re a wonderful dancer, Ian. And we’ve danced together several times.”
Ian grimaced, inclining his head towards the packed dance floor. “Not to this kind of music. And what’s going on out there doesn’t much resemble any sort of dancing I’ve ever done before.”
The music was the typical sort of loud, throbbing, bass-infused techno beats that were inherent to clubs like this. A quick glance at the dance floor revealed dozens of couples writhing against each other, a much different scene than
what they were used to seeing in the more sophisticated venues they typically patronized, where they mostly slow danced to soft jazz music.
Tessa bolted down the rest of her lemon drop, realizing that the drinks at this club were a good deal stronger than what she was used to. The alcohol made her uncharacteristically bold, grabbing hold of Ian’s hand and tugging him to his feet as she challenged him. “C’mon. I’ll bet we can figure it out. And if not we can just make out like everyone else seems to be doing.”
He slid an arm around her waist as he guided her onto the crowded dance floor, elbowing people aside to make room for them. The dancers’ bodies were so tightly packed that any semblance of actual dancing had been abandoned in favor of what more closely resembled a slow bump and grind.
Tessa looped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in close, his hands settling on her hips as they, too, performed a slow bump and grind, every inch of their bodies pressed against each other. Her eyes widened in surprise as Ian proved every bit as adept at this sort of dirty dancing as he was at the foxtrot or a waltz.
But then all she could think about was the way her breasts were crushed against his chest, or how his hands moved from her hips to her ass, holding her still as he deliberately ground his erection against the notch of her thighs. Her breathing began to grow uneven, though not from the exertion of what was passing for dancing. Arousal built and grew inside of her, until her cheeks were hotly flushed, her nipples hard points that pressed against the shallow bodice of her dress, and the dampness between her legs began to trickle down her inner thighs.
Claim Page 22