Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  She wasn’t wearing anything silky. Not a sleek evening gown or lingerie. Just your basic business-casual attire. Stuff he’d seen countless times on other women.

  Yet, to his touch, it might have been the sheerest, laciest garment on the market because he could feel her luscious curves and softness just beneath the fabric. As he allowed their bodies to melt together, he knew with a flash of pure insight that there was nothing casual about this encounter.

  And that made him pull back.

  He looked down at her until her blue eyes fluttered open and he could feel the steady blaze of passion behind them. He would have to tread very carefully here. Shannon was not Angie. Shannon was the kind of woman who loved hearth and home, and his lifestyle didn’t lend itself well to that. At least, not until now. Maybe…maybe that could change.

  “Let’s try this sitting down,” he suggested, leading her toward the bed. She complied then wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back—long, hard and thoroughly—bringing her head to rest on the mattress and trapping her legs beneath one of his.

  Control.

  He had to remember that. Especially now when every cell in his body wanted to release her from those unfussy clothes and ravish her until morning. He knew from her responsiveness that it would take little effort to get what he wanted. He could be inside of her in ten minutes, maybe five.

  But then what? Would she have second thoughts later? Would she avoid him when he came back to the inn? And he had every intention of coming back. Soon.

  So, he needed to play strategy. Spotting the Easter basket on the bedside table, he reached for his ace—the blindfold.

  “It’s your turn to wear this,” he told her.

  She shivered but whispered, “Okay.”

  He wrapped the black fabric around her eyes, careful not to pull it too tight. Then he kissed her again until she sighed, contented.

  “You said you had fantasies about me,” she murmured between kisses. “Tell me one.”

  Bram grinned to himself. She was playing right into his hand.

  “Yes. It starts with this zipper.” He dragged down the zipper of her slacks and unsnapped the clasp at the top. Light-blue panties winked at him from between the folds of clothing. Very nice. He’d deal with those soon enough.

  “And then what?” she said, her breath quickening.

  “Then the slacks come off.” He slid them off her until her exquisite skin and all of the light-blue panties were revealed.

  “Yes?” she rasped out.

  “Then, in my fantasy, I get to place my tongue here.” He moved his mouth to her belly button, ringed it with his lips and then licked. “And my hand here.” He slipped his fingers underneath the band of her soft undergarments to reach the wetness between her legs. He pressed against her soft skin until she moaned.

  “Bram…”

  “Mmm-hmm?” He licked and pressed and, finding the warm space just below the pads of his fingers, pushed slightly inward.

  “You…you can…” She wriggled beneath his grasp.

  “Am I getting closer, Shannon?”

  She laughed then sucked in some air. “Yes, dammit.”

  “Well, good. You’re perfectly positioned for what I want to do next.” And with that, he thrust two of his fingers in all the way. She gasped. Then, still using his tongue on her naval and adding his thumb to the sensitive area just above his fingers, he grabbed both of her wrists with his free hand and held them firmly. The other hand tangoed with her until he got his fantasy: She screamed his name.

  Once she’d had a chance to catch her breath, he loosened his grip on her wrists and helped her tug off the blindfold. She stared at him for a long time before reaching into the Easter basket and pulling out one of the flavored condoms.

  “My turn now,” she said, stepping onto the carpet and waving the foil packet in the air. “I love strawberry.”

  He was already as hard as concrete, so whatever flavor she chose would’ve been just dandy. “Me, too.”

  She nodded. “Stand up, take your pants off and turn around.”

  He squinted at her.

  “My fantasy,” she informed him. “Just do it.”

  He shrugged and did as the lady asked.

  “The boxers, too, Bram.”

  When he was standing there, his naked ass to her, he felt the familiar scrap of black fabric encircle one wrist and then the other. She tied his hands firmly behind his back then turned him face forward again at the edge of the bed.

  “I think you’d better sit down,” she said, ripping open the packet and grinning at him.

  “A damn good idea,” he agreed as she slid the flavored condom over his erection and brought her mouth down on it. And, a few minutes later, he was glad for the soft comfort of the bed as the force of his desire propelled him backward and Shannon’s sweet mouth caused his release.

  When was the next holiday at this place? Wasn’t Earth Day coming up soon? May Day? Cinco de Mayo?

  Hell, he’d take any one of them, and he’d tell Miranda to clear his calendar for a month, if that was what it took, to get him back to Shannon.

  ***

  Shannon crept out of the Astaire Suite at around three-thirty a.m., through the hallway, down the stairs and back to her room.

  Her body still trembled in a hundred places from Bram’s touch. One glance in her mirror and she saw she looked as tousled and flushed as she felt. And it felt…marvelous.

  She’d never celebrated Easter Sunday quite like this.

  Bram had fallen into a deep slumber sometime after midnight and, though they didn’t completely join their bodies during the evening, Shannon wouldn’t claim to be anything but absolutely satisfied by the experience.

  At least from a physical standpoint. That man worked amazing deeds with his fingers.

  He didn’t push her farther than she’d wanted to go. He didn’t become some guy she didn’t recognize once the door was shut. He didn’t make her feel anything but cherished for several wonderful hours. A part of her wanted to run back upstairs, wake him up and insist that they fully consummate their union right then and there. Wouldn’t that make him want to stay?

  She shook her head to clear it. This was exactly the problem. He wasn’t going to stay, whether he wanted to or not. And begging him to make love to her until they’d used up all the condoms in their Easter basket wouldn’t make the gnawing insecurity of that fact go away.

  This defined “risk” for her. She had to learn to embrace the inevitable, short-term nature of things—not cling to known entities just because they were safe.

  But, ohhh, she liked Bram. She couldn’t help herself.

  Trying to get to sleep now was futile. She showered, puttered around in her room until a reasonable hour and, finally, went down to her office to get some paperwork done.

  A few minutes after seven, she heard knocking. Figuring it must be Jake, she called out, “You know it’s open.”

  The door swung open. It wasn’t Jake.

  “Why’d you leave so early?” Bram asked her, leaning against the doorjamb, wearing travel clothes and a lazy smile. “I missed you in my bed.”

  She felt her face and most of her body heat up at his words. “I thought you might need the rest.”

  He nodded. “What I need is to get back to Minneapolis.” He held up his cell phone and frowned at it. “What I want is to drag you back upstairs with me. Any chance we’ll have a next time?”

  “I hope so,” she said but tried to let go of all expectation.

  “Me, too.” He took a few steps closer to her. “The Easter Bunny left you a present in my room. You might wanna grab it before someone else gets to it first.”

  She stood up from her desk and walked over to him. “A hint?”

  “Nope. You’ll just have to see for yourself. And promise that you’ll think of me when you use them.”

  Then he kissed her before she could say, “I promise.”

  She broke a
way and nodded.

  “Good. I’ve got to go, Shannon, but I’ll see you soon, and I’ll talk to you sooner than that, I hope.” He brought his lips to the back of her hand, which, while a gentlemanly gesture, still felt intensely intimate coming from him. “Happy Easter.”

  “Happy Easter,” she said as he rushed out the door. She trailed his shadow into the hallway wishing she, too, could set off on a journey. Maybe Bram’s adventurousness would rub off on her.

  “Good morning, Shannon,” Jake’s cool voice whispered behind her. “Have a restful night?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Liar, liar. Would Bram really come back?

  “Seems that way.”

  She turned to look at Jake, his gaze piercing daggers at Bram’s distant form. She grinned at her friend. “Be happy for me, Jake. It’s nothing serious, really, but I like him. Okay?”

  Jake shrugged. “If you say so, babe.” Then, after a few beats, “Okay, okay.” He half smirked at her. “But he’d better treat you well, Shannon, or he’ll be rooming in the utility closet next time.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, Jakey.”

  He rolled his eyes at the nickname she rarely used when addressing him and mumbled a grudging “you’re welcome” back to her.

  She flashed him a grin, gave his arm a quick squeeze and then raced up to the Astaire Suite.

  Bram had hastily made the bed but much remained the same as when she’d left in the wee hours of the morning. In the middle of the table, however, sat the Easter basket, the black blindfold tied in a bow around the handle.

  She moved closer to get a better look and discovered the basket was now filled with sumptuous soaps, lotions and body oils…all from Lathericious. Bram’s company.

  She smiled as she smelled a few of the fragrances, her smile broadening when she spotted the note he’d left her. It read:

  Shannon,

  Slow, sensual seduction is not only my pleasure…it’s also my business. I brought these to Holiday Quinn for you. Please enjoy them at your leisure and imagine my hands rubbing them on you. That’s what I’ll be imagining.

  Don’t hesitate to call me at the cell number below, or e-mail me, if you’d prefer. I’d be happy to hear from you anytime. I repeat—ANYTIME.

  Bram

  Hmm, would right now be soon enough? Shannon sat on the bed next to the phone and punched in Bram’s cell number before she could talk herself out of it.

  “Hartwick,” he answered on the second ring.

  “Hi,” she said, feeling dangerously daring as she stretched out on the warm bed that still held his scent. “Guess where I am?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Memorial Day

  What color, you ask… You mean you can’t guess < g >?

  I’ll leave the visuals to your imagination, Bram, but I WILL tell you their texture. Think soft and satiny from top to bottom, with a hint of roughness around the frilly edges.

  Perfect for a summer’s evening and, when uncovered, will prove more unusual than what is expected…

  Bram couldn’t resist reading Shannon’s latest message one more time. He laughed and logged off his e-mail for the night before getting ready for bed.

  Hmm, bed. Alone.

  But he was in Brussels on business and she was in Wisconsin preparing for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend at the inn. And writing, by his account, the sexiest descriptions of cupcakes ever composed online.

  Yes, professionally made and creatively frosted, using the smoothest fondant and the most artful designs for her guests. Delicate red-white-and-blue cupcakes…

  Not satin panties.

  Not sheer lingerie.

  Not silky bed sheets.

  Oh, how that woman delighted in tormenting him.

  They’d played this game for weeks now, starting after Easter with her first phone call from the Astaire Suite. A game of suggestive one-upmanship, which turned out to be more like “one-upwomanship” because she so often had him bested. He never would’ve guessed someone with such a poised demeanor would become this evocative, this bold. This quickly.

  Not that he was complaining.

  He just wanted to see where her imaginative mind would take them these days, if ever they were face-to-face again.

  He threw his tired body down on the mattress and sank into the pillow. He clicked off the bedside light, flipped the blanket over his legs and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Nothing.

  Well, nothing but Shannon dancing behind his eyelids in a lacy, flowing teddy—probably forest green—while luring him down the darkened hallways of Holiday Quinn for a flaming quickie against one of the banisters.

  He swallowed and felt himself harden. No way would he be able to fall asleep without some help.

  He dialed room service and had them send up a cup of decaf with cream and a chocolate croissant. Carbs usually knocked him out fast. But the sweet pastry, like virtually everything else he laid his eyes on, made him think of Shannon.

  So he tried some strong bourbon from the mini bar. No such luck.

  The late-night TV show in Flemish didn’t help either. Nor did the French one.

  He checked the clock and, counting backward seven hours, he decided there remained only one viable option. He punched in a phone number he’d long since memorized.

  “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Shannon Quinn. I’m unable to take your call right now, but please leave your name and message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a wonderful day.”

  “How the hell can I have a wonderful day?” Bram grumbled after waiting for the familiar beep. “I’m bored, horny and on my way to becoming an insomniac. Call me the second you get this and put me out of my misery. Please.” He recited the phone number of his hotel suite and his room number. Then he slammed down the receiver.

  Dammit.

  This international travel gig had long ago curtailed his social life, but he hadn’t resented it quite so much until recently. Trying to stay in contact with someone when you were seven or eight time zones away…who could do that and not go out of their freakin’ minds?

  Twelve long minutes later the phone rang.

  “Hi, birthday boy. How are you?” Shannon’s soft voice was like a salve on a wound.

  Bram exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Not great. And my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t it already tomorrow in Belgium?”

  He glanced at the clock. She was right. Three minutes past midnight and, having been born a late-night baby, he was less than a half hour away from officially turning thirty-one. He was educated, responsible, highly successful, and yet… God, when had he become so boringly adult?

  “Yeah, okay, it’s tomorrow here,” he said. “But I’m getting impatient in my old age. I wanna kiss you and do other things to you. Tonight. And, sorry, I’m not being subtle but, frankly, I don’t care.”

  She laughed, sort of. “You’ll have to come back to the inn then. That’s where I am and where I need to be. At least for now.”

  He heard a touch of something in her voice. Couldn’t quite put his thumb on it, but it sounded like…yearning, maybe. Which gave him a great idea. “Why don’t you fly here instead and meet me? I could e-mail you a ticket and—”

  “I’d love to, Bram, really. But you know I can’t just pick up and leave. I’ve got the party coming up this weekend with over a hundred registered guests, and there’s just too much to do beforehand.” The tone of her voice continued to mystify him. Longing? Resignation? Did she burn to see him or did she merely want to get away?

  Bram let his mind drift back to the cozy comfort that was Holiday Quinn. The warm, homey feel of the place, the tasteful décor, the relaxing environment where the hotel was situated. No way would she wish to leave such a sweet spot so, perhaps, it was really him she missed.

  Something unfamiliar in the vicinity of his chest soared at the thought. He’d fly back to her in a heartbeat if he could, but business requirement
s claimed his time and sapped his energy. He was as bound to his world at present as she was to hers. But, hey, maybe there was a middle ground.

  “What about the weekend after Memorial Day?” He’d still be in Europe, but he could maybe swing a day or two off and, of course, they’d have the nights…

  “I’m working at The Ashland next weekend. I’m off the following one, though. What are you doing then?”

  For a split second he was hopeful. Then he checked his electronic calendar. “Dammit. I’ll be in Tokyo.” And the following week would be spent in Beijing. Lathericious was expanding to the Asian market and he had serious work to do in both cities.

  She sighed when he explained this. “Well, it’s looking like we’ll have to wait until the 4th of July.” She paused. “You are still planning to visit then, aren’t you?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He’d made Miranda block off Independence Day weekend right after he came back from his Easter visit, since he already knew Memorial Day would be a lost cause. But he hadn’t counted on missing Shannon so much in the interim. He looked forward to her phone calls and e-mails like a seventeen-year-old looked forward to driving his dad’s convertible on a Friday night in summer.

  “Good.” He heard her exhale before adding, “So, what does the birthday boy want to do to celebrate his big day?”

  Bram almost laughed. The last time he’d done anything worthy of note on his birthday had been a decade before when he’d celebrate legal adulthood by earning his first six-figure salary and, consequently, his financial freedom from his parents. Four years later, he became the owner of his own company, had worked until at least ten p.m. on every birthday since and never once considered it unusual.

  Not until tonight.

  “I want you to touch me,” he admitted before censoring himself.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I’m putting you on hold…and going up to the Astaire Suite,” she said, her voice low and undeniably seductive.