Cat saw Heath’s eyes spot her bra and couldn’t stop the smiling stealing onto her lips. So he thought he could tease her throughout the meal? He thought the control of their sexual relationship rested in his hands, did he? Well he wasn’t the only one able to use their talents to put the other in a sexual stupor.
From that moment, she turned on her charm and used every technique she’d ever learned to make men hot. When she leaned forward, she propped her bosom on her arms, which pushed her breasts up, giving him a nice eyeful. She pretended not to notice, talking about the latest excavations at Petra in Jordan, but all the while she was well aware his gaze kept dipping to her cleavage and, from the way he kept shifting in his seat, it was obviously having an effect on him.
She played with her hair, fanned herself, licked her lips, gave him sexy looks, and generally had great fun. When she took a bite of his dessert, taking time to suck the spoon clean, she nearly laughed aloud as he closed his eyes and gave a tiny shake of his head.
Eventually the meal was over, and Alexander finished his coffee and gave them both a smile. “Well I think I’ll head upstairs. I hope you two continue to have a pleasant evening.”
“Are you sure you won’t have a liqueur first?” Heath asked. “Brandy? Whisky?”
“No, thank you. I’m sure the two of you have enough to talk about without an old man playing gooseberry.”
Guilt washed over her, and she stood up to give him a hug. “Oh Alex, I’m sorry, have we been unbearable?”
“Not at all, my dear.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and glanced at Heath. “Ask them to put the meal on my bill, would you?”
“If you’re sure. Thank you, sir.”
They exchanged a look before Alexander nodded and, taking his cane, walked stiffly out of the restaurant.
She dropped her gaze to her glass, went to sip it, and realised it was empty again. How many had she had? Three or four? Heath had kept filling it up, and she’d lost track.
“Fancy something stronger?” he asked.
She shot him a look. “It’s okay, I’m already ‘slightly drunk’. You haven’t got to keep plying me with alcohol.”
He laughed. “There was actually nothing sinister meant in that sentence. I just fancy a Scotch.” Standing, he held out a hand. “Let’s go and sit by the fire.”
A small bar nestled in the corner of the restaurant, with a sofa in front of an open fire, the cushions decorated with curling Chinese dragons. She stood and took his hand and let him lead her over there. On the way, he stopped a waiter and ordered an Islay malt. “What would you like?” he asked her. “Baileys? Sherry?”
“Sherry? Jeez, Heath, I’m not sixty-five. I’ll have a malt too, please,” she said to the waiter.
Heath grinned. “That’s my girl.” He led her to the sofa. They sat, about six inches apart, slightly turned toward each other.
She studied him thoughtfully. He’d called her “my girl”. She thought about the look he’d exchanged with Alex. They were concocting some sort of plan, she could smell it. Unease settled on her like a mist.
Heath saw the shadow settling over her. She was bothered about him talking to Alexander, he could tell. Her words echoed in his head. I don’t belong to any man, Heath. Never have, never will, you get me? He had to keep his possessiveness firmly under wraps.
He studied her, one eyebrow raised. “I know what you’ve been doing, by the way.”
The shadow lifted, and she smiled mischievously. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, right. You know perfectly well.”
“Heath, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She crossed her legs, drawing his attention to her long, slim calves encased in the black stockings. Then she laughed at the look on his face. “Well, honestly. After what you said to me in the bedroom? I haven’t been able to think about anything else all evening.”
“Good.” He turned to accept the two tumblers as the waiter brought them over. He handed her one, and they clinked the glasses together.
“What shall we toast to?” she asked.
He studied her thoughtfully. “To a very long, very slow, and very sensual evening.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my. Yes, I’ll drink to that.”
He sipped his whisky, watching her as she did the same. To his admiration, she didn’t wince as she swallowed, which meant she really was used to the drink, because this particular Islay malt was very peaty and medicinal-smelling and would usually have made most women—and a good proportion of men—pull a face.
“Are you going to tell me what you have planned?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Her gaze lingered on his mouth. “Not even an idea?”
“You know what curiosity killed?”
She pulled a face. “I’m only asking for a tiny hint.”
“I’m going to read to you from Current Archaeology,” he teased.
“Ooh,” she said, fanning herself, “you promise?”
He laughed. “There’s a great article on Machu Picchu.”
She rubbed her leg against his. “Tell me more. I’m getting hot already.”
Smiling, he sipped his whisky again. He may have joked about her teasing him all evening, but she had no idea how much it had worked. She was an incredibly sensual woman—anyone could tell by the way she ate, savouring every mouthful, tasting each dish, using her tongue to catch the noodles as they dangled from the chopsticks. How on earth had she made it to twenty-eight without having sex? And was she aware of how hot she’d made him?
“You’re shifting in your seat again,” she said. “You’ve been fidgety all evening.”
“That’s because I’ve had a hard-on for about three hours.”
She giggled. “Well, I’m practically sticking to the seat.”
He knocked back the rest of his whisky in one go. “That’s it, come on.”
“Hold on. I haven’t finished my drink.” She took a tiny sip, her eyes dancing.
He put his glass on the table, leaned back and glared at her. “You like torturing me, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.” She moved forward on the sofa until she was just touching him. Taking a small mouthful of the whisky, she slipped a hand behind his head, reached up and kissed him. When he parted his lips, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth and let him taste the scotch.
When she pulled back, her eyes were lava-hot. That was it. He was done waiting.
He took the glass from her and finished off the drink himself.
“Hey!” she complained.
“Babe, if I don’t get you upstairs now I’m going to seriously embarrass myself.” He walked over to the bar and paid the bill, even though Alexander had told him to charge it to his room, then came back and took her hand. Walking swiftly, he led her out to the foyer and across to the elevator.
Chapter 24
As the doors slid open and they entered the lift, Cat’s heart thumped wildly. She’d been careful not to eat too much during the meal, and now she was glad she hadn’t, as clearly Heath wasn’t in a mood to wait for her food to go down.
There were a couple of other people in the lift, and she and Heath stood at the back in silence, not touching. She glanced up to find him watching her, as usual. When she followed his gaze she realised he was looking down her front.
She rolled her eyes, and he shrugged as if to say What? She looked pointedly at his pants and the suspicious bulge at the front. He looked down, then back up at her and raised an eyebrow. “Six,” he reminded her in a whisper.
She shivered in apprehension as the lift went ding and the doors opened. He took her hand and led her past the other people in the elevator. She felt deliciously naughty. These people had no idea what she and Heath were about to get up to.
They reached her room, and she swiped her card and opened the door. He indicated for her to precede him, and she did so warily, conscious of the hungry look in his eyes. Suddenly she felt nervous. She’d been on tenterhooks all evening, trying
to imagine what he was planning, and now the time had come, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
Inside, she dropped her bag by the bed, turning as he walked up to her. He slid off his jacket and moved toward her, forcing her backward until she was against the wall, where he put his hands on her hips.
“Are you okay?” His voice was gentle. He could obviously sense her hesitation.
“I’m fine. Just a little nervous.”
He stroked her cheek. “It’s only me.”
“I know. But sometimes you make me…” She hesitated.
“I make you what?” He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.
Everything tingled at his soft kiss. “Umm, uneasy. Like there’s a panther in the room.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“A predator?”
“Exactly. I feel like you’re hunting me, like you’ve tracked me down.”
He lifted his head. She looked into his beautiful hazel eyes, noticing the glimmer of his lenses for the first time. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.
She swallowed. “No. Do you want to go?”
He shook his head. “Nuh-uh.” And he lowered his mouth to hers.
He kissed her deeply, and she put her arms around his neck, letting him press her against the wall. Even though she had two-inch heels on, he seemed a lot bigger than her. She always forgot how tall he was until she got close to him like this. His height and the feel of his muscular arms around her comforted her, taking away some of her nerves.
He pressed his lips to her throat, then around to her ear. “You smell divine.”
She sighed. The alcohol was finally having an effect, and she felt relaxed and lightheaded with desire. She started to undo his shirt, but he pushed her away with a gentle laugh.
“Isn’t that in the plan?” she teased and kissed him, nibbling his bottom lip.
“Not yet.” He moved away and caught her hand to lead her around the other side of the bed. The curtains were open, and through the nets she could see the lights of Xi’an sparkling in the darkness.
He stood her by the bed and kissed her for a while until she began to sigh, then lifted her sweater and pulled it over her head. He dropped it onto the bed and looked down at her black lacy bra. “Oh yeah.”
He sounded as enthusiastic as a teenager seeing a girl naked for the first time. She tried to tug at his shirt, but he pushed her hand away again. He undid the button at the top of her skirt and pulled down the zip. Finally, he slid it down her legs and waited for her to step out of it before discarding it on the bed.
She stood there in her black lacy underwear, black thigh-highs and high heels, feeling beautiful because of the way he looked at her.
“Now you?” she asked hopefully, but he shook his head.
He pushed her gently, and she sat on the bed, her hands tucked under her thighs. She watched him curiously as he walked over to the dressing table and retrieved the chair from there. He brought it over to the bed and placed it opposite her, then sat facing her, his knees touching the bed either side of hers. Sitting back, elbows on the arms of the chair, he linked his fingers in his lap and studied her. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her blood rushed around her body, the alcohol making her feel reckless, shameless. “What do you want?” she asked, prepared at that moment to give him anything he asked for.
He nudged her knees apart with one of his own. Then, moving both his knees between hers, he widened them, spreading her legs. His eyes, when they settled on hers, were dark with desire. “I want you to make yourself come for me.”
She blinked, a thrill running through her. “You want me to…”
“Yep.” His lips curved. “And I want to watch.”
Her mouth fell open and her cheeks burned. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He brushed his knee against her inner thigh. “Go on. I know you want to. I know you’re wet and ready for me.”
“Heath!” He’d said it on purpose to shock her. Her heart pounded so much, she was afraid it might leap out of her chest and flip-flop across the room. She reminded herself that he didn’t want to humiliate or embarrass her. He was trying to show her the extent of her sexuality, the depth of her passion—she turned him on, and he adored watching her. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself. The alcohol threaded through her veins, warming her, emboldening her. His eyes were hot, taunting, daring her to accept his challenge. He made her feel grown up, a woman, a million miles away from the insecure girl she’d once been. She wanted to turn him on, to drive him crazy. She wanted to shock him, too.
Still she hesitated, however. Heath watching her come while they made love was one thing. Letting him watch while she played with herself was another. It was such a private thing. How could she do it under his dark gaze, knowing he was going to be aware of who she fantasized about while she did it?
She looked up shyly, wondering if he would be exasperated or irritated with her uncertainty, or if he’d feel awkward that he’d asked her. His hazel eyes were kind, though, and he smiled as he rose from the chair and came to lie beside her and pushed her back with him.
“All right,” he said. He propped head on a hand and half-leaned on her, his thigh deliciously warm and heavy on hers. “I’ll help you get going. But then you’re on your own, okay?”
“Okay,” she said shyly.
“Let’s start with these lovely stockings.” He nuzzled her ear as he covered her hand with his, then moved it down to her thighs. “These are very naughty stockings.”
“Why?” She let him move her hand, stroking the sheer, silky thigh-highs. “They’re only stockings.”
“They’re black, and yet they’re almost transparent.” He moved her hand up to the elastic at the top and slid two fingers of her hand underneath. “Your legs look miles long in them. And yet at the top, your thighs are pale and soft.” He dropped his hand to her knee and pushed slightly, and she sighed, widening her thighs as he returned his hand to hers.
He moved her hand around the outside of her leg, then back, continuing toward her inner thigh. The skin there was sensitive, and her touch lingered, brushing the white skin showing above the dark thigh-highs.
He kissed her shoulder. “Now, about these panties.” His hand was warm on hers as he moved it up. “Only I don’t really know if they deserve to be called that. Because they’re really nothing more than a scrap of black lace. Very naughty, Catherine.”
“I’m not naughty,” she protested, but he just laughed.
“Oh, yes you are. And I intend to release that naughty girl inside you a piece at a time.” His breath was warm on her ear, and she shivered. He really thought she was naughty, and it pleased him. He liked her being naughty. It turned him on.
That gave her courage, and she slowly stroked down the front of the lace. “You were right,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “I am wet.” Her heart pounded, but when he rewarded her with an intake of breath and a press of his erection against her thigh, pleasure flooded through her. For the first time, she felt in control.
He moved his hand away and let her stroke herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on the sensations her touch aroused. It felt incredibly sensitive, even though her fingers only brushed lightly. She caressed the lace again, then, taking a deep breath, slipped a finger beneath the black material.
“How does it feel?” he asked huskily.
“Swollen. Slippery.” She met his gaze, her cheeks growing hot again, but he looked so turned on that she just closed her eyes again as she slid a finger into her warm folds. Collecting some of the moisture there, coating her fingers, she brought them back up and started to arouse herself.
He kissed her cheek. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” she whispered.
“What part of me?” He sounded amused.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “All of you.” She slipped her free hand into his hair and brought his head down for a kiss.
When he lifted his head again, she stroked his cheek. “Your beautiful hair. Your lovely eyes. Your gorgeous body, all muscles and strength and warmth.” She started to undo some of his shirt buttons so she could slip her hand inside and touch his warm skin. “Your amazing mind. You could make me come just by talking about excavation techniques, I swear.”
He chuckled and kissed her. “You are the perfect woman. You realise that?”
“Not everyone’s,” she said.
“Maybe just mine, then.” He brushed his hand across her breast and slipped his fingers under the lace of the black bra to stroke her nipple. “That’s not a complaint, by the way,” he added. “No lies in the bedroom, Catherine—I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”
She wanted to tell him not to say things like that, but then she remembered the sharp possessiveness she’d felt earlier, the way her brain had insisted mine when she thought about him sleeping with other women.
She wasn’t going to think about that now. The alcohol had finally done its job, and she felt relaxed and able to continue with his fantasy alone. She stood, pulling him with her, and pushed him back into the chair. He watched as she slid her black panties down her legs and stepped out of them. Handing them to him, smiling at the wry twist of his lips, she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra and let that slide down too, dropping it on the floor. Clad now only in her black thigh-highs and high heels, she bent over to kiss him leisurely.
She glanced down at his jeans and smiled at the prominent bulge. “No touching yourself till I’m done,” she teased.
His eyes blazed with heat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She sat back down, her inhibitions and nervousness disappearing on seeing how turned on he was. Opening her legs, she lay back on the bed and began to touch herself again, sliding her fingers deep inside, then bringing them up to caress the velvet folds. Closing her eyes, she brought her other hand up to her breast and began to play with her nipple. She thought she heard Heath swear softly, but she ignored him, biting her lip and trying not to smile as she concentrated on the brush of her fingers.
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