3 Seductions and a Wedding

by Julie Leto

  “Don’t hold back, Mallory. If you want to laugh, then do it.”

  With Ajay, she didn’t need much encouragement. In seconds, she was giggling like a schoolgirl, blushing furiously and attempting to cover her face with her hands, which he did not allow. He captured them in his and brushed a light kiss across each row of knuckles.

  “I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Liar,” he said, pressing his mouth to the pulse points on each of her wrists.

  “Okay, okay,” she confessed, dragging in a deep breath to quell her laughter. “I came here this weekend intending to seduce you.”

  “You succeeded.”

  “Not exactly. Seduction usually results in mutual pleasure. You haven’t gotten anything out of the deal just yet.”

  He smirked. “Yes, well, the day is still young. And not that I mind being seduced, but I am infinitely curious to know why you chose me.”

  “Fishing for compliments?” she asked, hoping her saucy reply would keep him from pressing further. She could see no way to confess the truth—that she’d wanted him because of his experience and reputation for keeping his liaisons short and uncomplicated.

  “I won’t turn those down, but no. If you won’t confess to why me, then at least…why now?”

  That question was just as bad.

  “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said weddings get me excited?”

  He smiled. “Of anyone else, I might buy it, but you are not exactly an excitable woman, Mallory. Or spontaneous.”

  “I can be spontaneous,” she lied.

  He merely lifted an eyebrow. One of these days, she was going to work on her ability to hide the truth.

  “I suppose you heard about me and Carlo,” she said, resigned to digging up the ugly reality.

  He turned his head to the side and tsked, as if the speaking of Carlo’s name required him to spit in response. “That was months ago. And for the record, he didn’t deserve you.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “But those months have been tough. And Tuesday night, I don’t know, I felt this connection with you. Didn’t you?”

  His grin shifted from amused to wicked. “What I felt on Tuesday was an overwhelming desire to strip you naked and explore every crevice and curve of your body. But then, I’ve pretty much felt that every time we’ve run into each other.”

  “Now you’re the liar,” she said.

  His expression froze with utmost seriousness. “No, Mallory, I’m not.”

  Her chest clenched. Ajay may be a playboy, but she knew he was also painfully, unequivocally honest. He made his rounds with the ladies, but from what she gathered, none of them ended up with a broken heart or dashed expectations like she had with Carlo. Ajay was clear and up-front—he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Up until now, she’d never once wondered why that was.

  “I’ve always wanted you, too,” she said.

  But again, he caught her. “No, you haven’t. And that’s okay,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not offended. Bianca always said you were the smartest woman she knew. But if there’s one thing I’m well versed in, aside from electronic circuitry, it’s women. You stared me down Tuesday, but not because you wanted me. You were terrified I’d do something unthinkable. Like come on to you. Or worse, touch you. Then this morning, you did everything in your power to make sure I touched you, in the most intimate way possible—which I should mention, I enjoyed very much and would like to do again at the earliest opportunity. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask again—what’s changed?”

  She considered sitting up, but she did not wish to break the spell that entwined them on the bed. Staring into his jade-green eyes, speaking in hushed tones about such private topics, was a rare and wonderful experience. She watched him scan her face like one of his advanced computer systems—his gaze sensitive to every twitch in her cheek, every blink of her lashes. He wanted to know. The fact that he cared about what had brought her to this point struck her hard.

  “I’m tired of living life in a shell,” she admitted.

  He pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “I can imagine that would be a very cramped existence.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. The gesture was so sweet, so innocent—so in contrast to what they’d just done.

  “You’re right…I don’t have any idea,” he said, his mouth turned downward in a pensive frown. “But there’s a danger to living your life out loud all the time, too. You can’t hear yourself enough to figure out who you really are or what you really want. You take what’s offered and ignore the consequences. But sooner or later, it catches up to you.”

  His confession surprised her. “That’s…very contemplative.”

  He laughed. “Yes, well, I’ve been known to have a deep thought from time to time. I try to avoid it if I can, of course.”

  “Yeah, who doesn’t?”

  This time, when he chuckled, she joined in. The situation was ridiculous and absurd—a woman like her coming on to a man like him—and yet, things had gone according to plan. Her body still hummed with the aftermath of her orgasm and the warmth in his gaze only reinvigorated her libido. She wanted more from him—but more of what, she couldn’t precisely say. More lovemaking? Definitely. More intimate conversation? Why not? But what else could there be between them, especially once the wedding was over?

  She reminded herself that she’d achieved exactly what she’d hoped to by coming here with seduction on her mind. She’d hoped that Ajay would respond to her flirtations, get turned on, have sex with her and make her feel desirable after so many months of feeling like garbage Carlo had tossed away. Her ex had found someone better—someone with no fear, someone he could bring into his crazy, superficial world without worrying that she’d have a panic attack or say something pedantic in the midst of conversations about the best wines, the hottest clubs or the latest fashions. She could converse about those topics, yes, but she could also discuss the latest political uprising in South America, expound on the economic impact of a new trade agreement or argue about the symbolism and imagery in ancient art.

  Would that kind of woman appeal to a man like Ajay any more than it had Carlo?

  Given his reputation, did it matter?

  He slipped his hand onto her waist, splaying his fingers possessively over her hips.

  “Who do you think I am, Mallory?”

  The question caught her completely unaware.

  “I think you’re a man who appreciates women,” she said.

  He considered her words, as if searching for an untruth, but then gave a little nod.

  “And I think you’re a man who cares about living life to the fullest,” she added.

  Again, a nod.

  “And I also think you’re a man who has a raging erection and who wouldn’t mind a little relief.”

  To this, he answered with a groan.

  She’d made the comment half to distract him, half because she was dying to know if the rigid muscle pressing against her leg was as long, thick and hard as intimated by the pressure on her leg. The minute she slid her hand between them, she couldn’t fight the urge to explore—maybe return the favor he’d so recently given her. She worked his belt free, unbuttoned his waistband and released the zipper.

  “Mallory, you don’t have—”

  “Ajay, the only thing we have to do this weekend is get Brock Arsenal to sing at the wedding,” she said, squeezing her fingers past the waistband of his briefs. “And he’s not due for hours. What if until then, we do not what we have to, but what we want to?”

  She wrapped her palm around him and gave a little squeeze, which elicited another tortured groan.

  “Mallory, I love the way you think.”

  She hummed her appreciation. “Good. Then I think I’m going to love driving you mad.”

  4

  IN TEN SECONDS FLAT, Ajay forgot every preconceived notion he’d ever formed about Mallory Tedesco. He
’d been wholly mistaken when he interpreted her intelligence as bookishness and her coolness as snobbery. He’d opted to ignore her wit and beauty and instead pretend she was not a woman he’d ever desire.

  And yet, every time their paths had crossed, he’d felt that wholly unfamiliar tug of wanting something he could not have.

  Unaccustomed to dealing with anything in his life that he could not, with a bit of work and ingenuity, possess, he’d simply told himself that she was untouchable. Unlike Brock Arsenal, Ajay did not poach another man’s woman. Then her fiancé had gone and dumped her.

  And once she’d decided to have Ajay, he had no means to resist.

  Every single nerve ending in his body worshipped her, starting with the sensitive skin of his sex, which had swelled to full length under her touch. She ringed his flesh with her fingers and stroked, drawing the pressure down to the hilt and then tugging to his head until he had no blood left in any other part of his body. With her other hand, she flicked open the buttons of his shirt so she could bathe his chest with butterfly-light kisses that contrasted against her commanding hold on his cock. She was a study in divergence. Shy, yet bold. Beautiful, yet self-conscious. Cool, and at the same time utterly at ease with giving him pleasure.

  He wriggled out of his shirt, then did what he could to remove her dress and gain access to the rest of her. As he loosened the zipper on her side and then tugged down the shoulders to bare her breasts, Mallory kicked his pants aside, leaving him naked while her red dress bunched in her middle, exposing a bit of her thong panties and the luscious, intimate folds he’d only begun to explore.

  She moved to yank the dress off, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t,” he begged, taking a moment to appreciate how the material buoyed breasts tipped with dusky nipples and amazingly round areolae. “I love this on you.”

  “It’s not covering much right now,” she said, her voice almost shy.

  He climbed to his knees on the mattress, and then had her do the same. He lifted the material of the dress so that her bottom was completely bare and her sex peeked from behind the tiny triangle of her lingerie.

  “It’s covering just enough.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth. She arched her back and slid her hands into his hair, tugging slightly as his efforts intensified. Judging by the increasing tempo of her coos and moans, she liked this. Her breasts were sensitive to his tongue, his teeth, his touch. He used all three until she was grinding her sex against his, pleading with her body for release.

  He laid her down atop the duvet, then hurried to the bathroom to retrieve his overnight kit. He tossed it onto the nightstand and then, at the edge of the bed, stopped to watch her watching him.

  Her eyes, dark as ebony, were wide with anticipation. Her lips were slightly open, her tongue darting out at intervals to replenish the moisture she lost with each panting breath. She’d left the dress on as he’d requested, and the sight of her nipples, pink from his pleasuring, made his cock twitch with renewed need.

  “You’re so beautiful, Mallory.”

  “You keep saying it and I’ll just have to believe you.”

  He went to the foot of the bed, climbing on at her feet, eyeing the pantie he’d have to remove before he could have what he most desired.

  “Why don’t I just show you how hot you are?”

  He hooked a finger beneath the side of her thong and with a slowness that tortured him as much as it did her, he dragged the material down her leg. Once it was tossed aside, he lifted her left leg and kissed the arch of her foot, the curve of her ankle, the tight muscle of her calf. At her knees, he lingered, filling himself with the salty sweetness of her skin, feeding off the tremors in her flesh that gauged the building pressure of her need. When she spread her legs, giving him a view of his ultimate destination, he had to use all his self-control to continue his lazy path.

  The moment he finally tasted what he’d previously only touched, he lost his mind in the flavor of her. Hot and wet, his tongue delved deeply into the folds of her flesh, his nostrils flaring with the scent of her arousal. Light-headed with want, he feasted and explored, learning her as intimately as any man could know a woman—memorizing the way she bucked when he flicked his tongue in one particular direction or how she moaned when he pulled gently at her flesh with his teeth.

  “Ajay, please,” she said.

  He looked up and saw that she clutched the sides of the pillows in tight fists.

  “I can’t resist,” he said, swirling his tongue around her rigid clit.

  “You’re torturing me. I don’t…want to come…again.”

  “There’s no limit on them, you know. You can come now,” he teased, tonguing the tiny nub until she whimpered. “And then again. And then again.”

  She grabbed him by the cheeks and made defying her impossible. Chuckling, he stretched out over her, donned a condom and then pressed his erection against her, teasing her sensitive flesh with the lubricated tip.

  She groaned with impatience and wrapped her legs around his waist. His body slid into hers with a burst of sensation. In the split second Ajay took to savor the moment, she started to unravel.

  The contraction of her muscles around him marked the beginning of her release. She clutched at his back with her fingernails. He knew one thrust would take her over the top, but now that he was inside her, he wanted to slow down. He tensed every muscle and willed his heartbeat to slow, kissing her in one long, desperate attempt to gain time to catch up.

  But her hungry mouth on his undid his resolve. In seconds, he was thrusting into her. She took what he gave, bucking into him, increasing the friction, fueling the pace. When he came, the explosion rocked him. He grabbed her hands, held on tight and rode the wave of pleasure until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. He collapsed beside her, kissing her intently until their breathing regulated and the sweat that covered their bodies had cooled in the circulating air.

  “Wow,” he said.

  She smiled. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He matched her grin, but said nothing. Had he experienced anything so spectacular lately? He couldn’t recall. When he was young, the semi-anonymous sex he’d enjoyed had been awesome. But lately, most orgasms had been followed by a hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. He’d filled the void with idle chatter, food, alcohol or more sex.

  With Mallory, however, he felt full. Her confessions about Carlo and her guarded lifestyle awakened protective instincts he hadn’t realized he possessed. Her sexual curiosity fed his need to explore every aspect of physical pleasure. He had feasted on her, body and soul, and was sated beyond measure. His brain whirled with the intoxication of her flavors. And while he was certain he’d want more sex as soon as his body recovered, for the moment, he was perfectly content to lie in her arms until nightfall.

  Mallory, however, had other ideas. After a few moments, she shifted so that he had no choice but let her go. She clutched at the robe barely hanging on to the corner of the mussed bed and threw it over herself while she dashed into the bathroom. Suddenly chilly, he grabbed his own robe and slipped it over his shoulders long enough to cut through the living room, clean up in the other bathroom, and then grab her overnight bag.

  When she did not emerge in five minutes, he knocked.

  “Mallory, are you okay?”

  She opened the door. Her expression was a mixture of emotions—too many for him to sort. He saw heavy-lidded eyes that shone with satisfaction, cheeks red from either exertion or embarrassment and mouth swollen not only from his teeth, but from hers, which were even now gnawing at her lips nervously.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” she said.

  “Talk to me.”

  Had he ever said that to a lover before? Not once, but twice? In the same day?

  “I’m a little shocked by how easily that went,” she confessed.

  He coaxed her into his arms. “You can’t fight chemistry.�
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  “I was desperate,” she said with a sigh.

  He nearly choked. “So you’re saying you would have slept with just any guy today?”

  “No! That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t that desperate—only desperate for you.”

  He snuggled closer, loving how he could smell his cologne mingling with the scent of her perfume, her shampoo, her. “That’s more like it.”

  “But you have to know, Ajay. I don’t expect anything—”

  “Well, you should,” he said, cutting her off. He didn’t want to lay out any ground rules. For the first time in a long while, Ajay wanted real spontaneity in his love life. What he’d had before had become rote. Meet willing woman. Have date. Have sex. Say goodbye. Rinse and repeat.

  “You should not only expect more of what we just did,” he continued, “you should demand it. And I promise to do my very best to meet your high standards of performance.”

  As he’d hoped, she laughed. Tension left her body and she curved fully into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest. Could she hear how his heart skipped a beat?

  “And here I thought you were an expert negotiator,” she mused.

  He pushed her back far enough so she could see his face. “Who says I’m not going to get something spectacular out of the deal, as well?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she assured him, lifting her chin so that he could not resist kissing her.

  Yet even as their lips melded and their tongues clashed, he wondered if her best might just kill him—or worse.

  Like make him fall in love.

  5

  FOR LUNCH, Ajay ordered room service and fed her grilled lobster from a tiny silver fork and chocolate-covered strawberries from his delectable fingers. He kept their flutes of chilled champagne filled and then offered her a deep muscle massage at his skilled hands. Now, as she sat on the marble edge of the garden tub finishing off the last of her bubbly, he drew her bath.

  The scent of lavender enriched the steamy air. Mallory untied her robe and pressed the cold glass to her chest. She might have pinched herself to see if she was actually awake, but the ache between her thighs assured her she was not sleeping. She knew all about dream sex—and what she’d shared with Ajay had been very, very real.