Private Pleasures

by Janelle Denison

  Her gaze widened in shock and mortification, but she managed to recover her composure quickly. "I, uh, yes, I received it just fine. Thank you."

  "It was all my pleasure." Literally. He turned to the blonde and thrust out his hand congenially. "I don't believe we've met before. I'm Grey Nichols, a good friend of Mariah's."

  "Richard Sawyer. Nice to meet you." Reluctantly he shook Grey's offered hand. Both of their grips were strong, with an undercurrent of silent rivalry. "Any friend of Mariah's is a friend of mine."

  Sap, Grey thought, wondering what Mariah saw in the other man. A marriage proposal? He shuddered at the thought.

  "You wouldn't mind if I stole Mariah for a few moments for a quick dance, do you?" Grey asked pleasantly, making it difficult for the other man to refuse without making him look like a jealous lover. "To catch up on old times?"

  A tight smile claimed Richard's lips. "I suppose I could let her out of my sight for one short dance."

  Don't count on it, buddy. "I'll bring her back just the way you gave her to me."

  Grey led a silent and obviously fuming Mariah to the crowded dance floor. A slow song played and he pulled her unyielding body into his arms, relishing the feel of her soft, lush curves pressed against him and the heady scent of her perfume.

  She wouldn't look at him, and he noted the tight, angry line of her jaw. "You didn't think you were going to get away with not dancing with me, did you?" He tried to inject a teasing note into his voice.

  She met his gaze, her blue eyes glacial. "In case you didn't notice, I'm here with someone else."

  Instinctively he tightened his arm around her waist, "Oh, I noticed all right." Disdain coated his words.

  "But that didn't stop you from pulling that macho act with Richard."

  He didn't think she'd appreciate him reminding her of the relief on her face when he'd interrupted their little interlude.

  As they continued to sway to the music, the tension gradually drained from her body, allowing her to lean more naturally into Grey. "I came to this party with Richard. I shouldn't be dancing with other men." She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself of that fact.

  "Mr. GQ doesn't seem to be too lonely without you." He glanced to the right, and Mariah's gaze followed his. The aggressive woman who'd been Grey's dinner companion was now busy working on Richard, who didn't seem to mind the obvious passes the voluptuous woman was making.

  "I can hardly blame him, after what you just pulled,"

  Mariah said, shifting her gaze back to Grey's. Confusing emotions brightened her eyes. "When did you become so callous?"

  "I'm a desperate man," he said softly, truthfully. "When did your taste in men take a drastic turn for the worse?"

  She bristled and tried to put some distance between their bodies but he refused to loosen his hold. "Who I date is no longer any of your concern."

  "Is Richard marriage material?"

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, cutting him deeper than he thought possible. "More so than you'll ever be."

  He deserved that, he thought, but he didn't like it. The melody ended and segued into a fast song. When Mariah pushed slightly at his shoulders, he let her slip from his grasp and watched her walk away, spine straight and head held high. His gaze dropped to the way her dress outlined her bottom, and a surge of heat flared deep in his belly. Any sane man would cut his losses and move on. His sanity had fled the night she'd gathered up her clothes and left him.

  Mariah moved through the throng of guests and made her way out the double French doors leading to a wide veranda that overlooked a garden and elaborate fountain. Finding a secluded, shadowed spot away from the other couples enjoying the sultry evening, she leaned against the cool metal railing and drew a deep breath.

  She couldn't stop trembling and it was all Grey's fault. She was furious with him for his behavior. And disturbed that he still had the ability to arouse her so quickly and easily. Dragging her fingers through her hair, she tried to dismiss the way her body still throbbed from the pure torture of being pressed against Grey's.

  "So, have you and the lawyer slept together?"

  She jumped at the deep voice behind her, not surprised that Grey had sought her out. The man didn't handle rejection well and had the tenacity of a pit bull. "That's none of your business," she said, not bothering to turn around.

  His hands curled around the railing on either side of her. The length of him brushed her spine, bottom and thighs. Her heart rate accelerated and a honeyed warmth flowed through her veins. She resisted the impulse to lean back into his heat.

  His head lowered to her ear, and the fine hairs at the nape of her neck tingled. Her breath hitched in her throat.

  "My guess is that you haven't, but not for a lack of Mr. GQ wanting to." His voice was a low, husky murmur.

  Mariah swallowed hard, astonished by Grey's perception. Their clandestine setting and his nearness excited her, and she valiantly searched for the fortitude to stop this craziness.

  "I'd bet a hundred bucks he's gonna make his move tonight when he takes you home."

  She turned around, a smart retort on her lips-which instantly died the moment she met his gaze. His gold-brown eyes glittered in the moonlight-seductive, hot and wild.

  She shivered. She knew that look. Intimately.

  The slow, lazy sweep of his gaze took in her hair, her parted lips and the swells of her breasts rising from the bodice of her dress, then back to her face. A wicked smile stretched his mouth. "By the way, you look great tonight."

  A melting sensation rippled the length of her. "Grey, you have to stop this," she whispered. Because I don't have the strength to resist you.

  "I can't." He swore and, grasping her arms, backed her into a dark, private corner of the veranda behind a leafy, potted ficus tree. Faster than she could gather her wits, his legs bracketed hers and a hand slid from her knee, up her thigh and beneath the hem of her dress.

  She gasped in shock, but couldn't move away. "Grey, what are you doing?"

  But it was shamelessly obvious what he was doing. His fingers touched the elastic band of her stockings and followed a satin strap to the garter belt she'd donned. The one he'd bought for her.

  His grin was pure, unadulterated sin as he whispered, "Remember the fantasy…"

  Chapter Four

  Remember the fantasy…

  Mariah groaned as the words Grey had written flooded her mind, making her remember vividly the things he'd wanted to do to her while she wore the ensemble he'd sent. A part of her brain mocked her for wearing the lingerie when she knew he'd expected her to. On a deep, feminine level she found this whole interlude thrilling.

  The voices around the corner and the music floating out the French doors dimmed. The world around her receded, until there was only her and Grey in the secluded alcove. She'd only drunk one glass of champagne, but it could have been the whole bottle for how lethargic she suddenly felt.

  She struggled to hold on to any shred of cognizance. "Grey-"

  "Shh, baby," he whispered, his warm, damp mouth nuzzling her neck. His fingers traced the elastic band of her panties before sliding back down and out the hem of her dress.

  She whimpered, unable to believe the wanton, needy sound had come from her.

  He said nothing, but then they'd never needed verbal communication when it came to pleasing and pleasuring the other. His hands outlined the flare of her hips and the dip of her waist, hiking her dress up a few inches. Cool air brushed across the exposed flesh between her stockings and panties. He continued on, skimming his palms around her breasts to grasp the sleeves of her dress. He tugged gently, and the stretchy lace gave way. Her breasts, full and aching and unrestrained by a bra, sprang free.

  Watching her, he licked a finger and touched her sensitive nipple. Her breath caught, and before she could cry out his mouth covered hers in a deep, drugging kiss that made her head spin. His tongue sought and tangled with hers while his hands molded and caressed her breasts. With his
foot, he nudged her legs apart until she was straddling his thigh and his erection strained between them.

  Lord help her, she wanted him, despite where they were and the risk of being caught. Her body buzzed with desire, and a wet warmth settled between her thighs, where his fingers were again, this time slipping beneath the edge of her panties to touch her intimately.

  He stroked her, in just the way he knew made her shatter into a thousand pieces. She moaned desperately, and he buffered the passionate sound with a kiss that weakened her knees. The meltdown began in slow degrees, robbing her of all reason. Her main focus became the intense ache he created within her.

  Needing to touch him, she slid her hands inside his tuxedo jacket and rubbed against firm muscle and a heat greater than pure fire. His heavy heartbeat matched her own erratic pulse. She wanted him inside her. It would be just a simple matter of unzipping his pants and her wrapping a leg around his waist. Anyone who happened to walk by would only see two people in a lover's embrace, and not know just how intimately they were joined.

  The delicious fantasy, combined with the silken glide of his fingers and the sexiest kisses she'd ever tasted unraveled the last of her inhibitions. Her body convulsed in waves of ecstasy, and she moaned into his mouth and clung to him until the incredible pleasure subsided.

  Now she knew how the fantasy ended.

  Grey slowly broke their kiss and rested her head on his shoulder until she regained a normal breathing pattern. His own breathing was ragged. He stroked her hair and the length of her spine. Murmuring soothing words, he ignored his own need, which pressed insistently against her belly.

  With a tenderness that touched her heart, he adjusted the top of her dress over her breasts and smoothed down the hem. Dazed, she let him tend to her. She had little energy left to do it herself. When he straightened and looked into her eyes, his own were blazing hot and filled with a masculine satisfaction.

  He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, puffy and damp from his ardent kisses. "'Night, sweetheart," he murmured huskily. Thrusting his hands deep into his trouser pockets, he turned and strolled down the stairs at the side of the veranda and disappeared into the night.

  She stared in that direction, long after there was no sign of him. Stunned and bereft by the entire episode, she attempted to calm the tremors still quaking deep inside her. On shaky legs she stepped from the shadowed corner and up to the railing, wrapping her fingers tight around the metal rod.

  Tears of anger and frustration burned the back of her throat and filled her eyes. "Damn you, Grey," she whispered vehemently.

  He'd seduced her deliberately. Like a possession, he'd marked her, branding her as his so no other man would touch her. So she wouldn't want any other man.

  If he were still around, she would have slapped him.

  You're just as much to blame, her conscience mocked. You didn't even try to resist him.

  Two hands settled heavily on the flare of her hips, and a distinctly male body crowded her from behind. Abruptly she whirled around, her palm midway to the man's cheek before she realized it was Richard. She immediately jerked back and dropped her hand, horrified at what she'd almost done.

  He looked just as surprised. "Hey, it's just me," he said, his fingers tightening on her waist.

  "I'm…I'm sorry." Shaking her head, she tried to move away, but his hold was unrelenting. Short of prying his fingers from her, she was trapped in his firm grasp. "You startled me."

  "I didn't mean to." Slowly he drew her forward, sexual prowess gleaming in his eyes. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

  Panic settled in and she swallowed the thickness gathering in her throat. Grey's ploy had worked. The thought of another man touching her made her want to bolt, not that she'd ever intended for her and Richard to become that intimate.

  "Richard-" She sucked in a deep breath of dismay as his hands cupped her breasts and groped her.

  "You like that?" he said near her ear, obviously mistaking her shock for pleasure. "How about we take a walk around the garden area and find a spot where we can be alone for a while?"

  She grimaced, and her stomach lurched at the suggestion. Very calmly she removed his hands from her breasts. "If you don't mind, I think I'm ready to leave."

  "Great," he said enthusiastically, while passing a friendly hand over her bottom. He squeezed her fanny, and all but undressed her with his gaze. "My place or yours?"

  She squirmed out of his reach. "Mine. I've got a horrendous headache and horrible cramps," she said, effectively dousing the lustful look in his gaze.

  Mariah's lungs burned and the muscles in her calves and thighs strained with every stride. The last mile home was always the worst. Normally she had Grey by her side, goading her along to keep her from giving up and collapsing, but those days were a thing of the past. She was on her own, with no weekend running partner.

  The thought of Grey, or rather her anger toward him, kept her legs pumping and her mind focused. Grey had always claimed jogging was a therapeutic sport, while she'd thought any form of exercise paralleled physical torture. And in the name of love she'd suffered through a couple of weeks of aching muscles, leg cramps, and bouts of hyperventilation to join Grey on his weekend morning excursion. Before long, running together had become a shared outing, a chance for her to spend quality time with him, even though she'd never learned to enjoy the sport quite as much as he did. However, going home and showering together afterward had been the sweetest incentive to join him.

  Following the paved walkway through the park across from her condo, she pulled in an even breath and tried to let go of the tension and fury coiled within her. After Grey's outrageous behavior the night before, her own response to him and Richard's obtuse attitude during the drive back to her place, she wanted nothing more than a little peace and tranquillity in her life.

  And no men to complicate it.

  Her wish wasn't meant to be. The sound of an approaching jogger slowed by her side. Without looking, she knew who it was, and refused to acknowledge the man responsible for her present black mood and a sleepless night spent cursing his gorgeous head.

  Holding tight to her anger she ignored him, which proved a difficult feat considering he kept staring at her and his arm occasionally brushed hers. Her feminine senses had an annoying way of tingling whenever he was near, and she shook the sensation before she did something stupid…such as be nice to him.

  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed he wore nylon running shorts and a muscle shirt drenched in sweat, and surmised he'd been out jogging for at least half an hour. While she drew in ragged breaths and measured every foot closer to her condo in terms of the finish line, he glided beside her, looking physically fit and ready to tackle the world. He was whistling, for God's sake!

  She looked up at him and glared.

  He grinned. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said cheerfully.

  Go to hell, Nichols. Clenching her teeth, she lengthened her stride.

  His long, muscular legs easily and effortlessly kept him by her side. "Beautiful day, don't cha think?"

  It was until you snowed up. Taking a quick detour, she jogged up a grassy knoll, leaving him momentarily behind.

  Deep laughter rippled along her nerves, men he was beside her again, undaunted by her obvious attempts to elude him. "Can't say I mind being behind every once in a while. The view is quite nice."

  He continued to jog beside her and talk to her, heedless of the fact that she wasn't responding. She kept hoping if she ignored him he'd go away.

  No such luck. He was in a great mood. They passed an old lady sitting on a bench feeding the pigeons, and Grey winked and wished her a good morning. As they jogged around a man-made lake he picked up a fly-away Frisbee and flicked it back to the little girl who owned it. He was being entirely too nice, and she silently cursed him for making their breakup so difficult. Why couldn't he be a cretin, as she'd learned Richard could be?

  Her final date with Richard the previous night h
ad come to a nasty conclusion, with him expecting something a little more than a thank-you for their time together. And when she'd told him she didn't sleep with men she'd only known a few weeks, he'd spouted a few choice words, then had left in a huff.

  "You know, I have to say you're getting good, sweetheart," Grey teased. "Usually by now you're passed out on the curbside."

  His subtle jibe provoked her. On impulse, she hooked her foot around his ankle and tripped him. He stumbled and fell to the grass with a string of curses.

  Grinning and enjoying her small victory, she turned around and jogged backward so she could look at him. In her sweetest voice, she said, "My, Grey, when did you get so clumsy?"

  Faster than a lithe panther, he sprang back up. A determined, you're-gonna-pay look glinted in his eyes. Her heart gave a frantic leap of apprehension. Knowing she was in big trouble, she whirled back around and ran as fast as her legs would allow.

  She was no match for his speed and agility. He anchored an arm around her waist, throwing her off balance. With a shriek, she twisted and grabbed a handful of Grey's shirt for support. She fell anyway, pulling him down with her. He swore and grappled to cushion her fall. He managed to cradle her head in his hand so it didn't hit the ground, but he ended up sprawled on top of her, their faces inches apart.

  Mariah was instantly aware of his hard body, slick with perspiration against her own sun-warmed skin. His chest crushed her breasts beneath her thin tank top, and his musky scent filled every breath she struggled to take. The heat he created threatened to consume her. She squirmed for freedom.

  He cocked a brow and kept her pinned. "Clumsy, eh? And when did you get such a smart mouth?"

  His gaze focused on the mouth in question, his eyes darkening. Alarm bells went off in her head. If she didn't do something fast he was going to kiss her, and if his lips so much as touched hers she didn't know whether or not she had the strength to stop him. God, did she have no shame when it came to him?