“So, what’s with wearing the dress-up shoes with your pajamas?” he asked, glancing up at her face as he took that high heel off and started in on the other.
A warm flush of color rose in her cheeks, probably because she was just as aware of the fact that she’d never worn such provocative shoes to work before. “I just bought them and I was trying them on to see how they fit when you arrived.”
“Well, I like them.” He unfastened the second strap and let the shoe drop to the floor, but kept his fingers circled around her ankle to keep her foot in place on the bed between his thighs. “They make your legs look longer and sexier than they already are.” To prove his point, he slowly, leisurely skimmed his fingers over her calf, behind her knee and along the inside of her smooth, silky thighs.
Her skin quivered beneath the stroke of his fingers, and her nipples tightened against her cotton top. Loving her reaction to his touch, and wanting a more physical contact with her, he put her foot back to the floor and stood up. Then he wrapped an arm around her back and brought her body flush to his, from her soft breasts all the way down to her supple thighs.
She felt incredible in his arms. Incredibly perfect. More so than any woman he’d ever been with.
His hand wandered downward, following the slope of her spine and over the sweet curve of her ass. He squeezed her bottom, and wished he’d gotten rid of her panties when he’d had the chance. “Do you know what men call shoes like the ones you were wearing?”
Placing her hands on his bare chest, she smiled up at him with an innocent bat of her lashes. “Dress-up shoes?” she replied cheekily.
He chuckled, then dipped his head close to hers and whispered his scandalous answer in her ear. “No, they call them ‘fuck me’ shoes, because that’s what it makes a man think of when he sees a woman wearing them. And that’s exactly what I want to do to you.”
His intent made her shiver, and she laughed softly against his cheek. “Tonight, it’s going to be the other way around.”
He groaned, this assertive side to Amanda heightening his excitement, along with the need to be inside of her. Soon. “Lucky me.”
She leaned back, her eyes sparkling with desire. “Well, I do need to make good on the Secret Santa gift I gave to you, now don’t I?”
“Oh, yeah,” he growled. Letting her go for a moment, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out half a dozen foil packets. “I came prepared.” He grinned sheepishly.
An amused smile curved her lips. “And you’re obviously very confident and feeling quite ambitious, considering how many condoms you brought.”
He shrugged unrepentantly. “Hey, a guy can hope.”
She took the packets from him and tossed them onto the pillow with the blue-and-gray striped tie. Then she pushed him back until he was sitting on the bed again. “Move up toward the headboard,” she said, and he did as she ordered.
Settled in the middle of the bed, precisely where Amanda wanted him, he watched her kneel on the mattress by his feet. She removed his shoes and socks, then crawled her way upward, between his spread legs, and went to work on the button and zipper on his pants. She caressed and squeezed him through the denim, making good on her promise to tease him to distraction before finally skinning his jeans and briefs down his legs and off.
He was stripped bare. She stared at his thick, aching erection and licked her lips. He imagined her mouth on him, sucking him deep, and his cock twitched and strained for any kind of attention she was willing to give. Unfortunately, she bypassed his hard-on and instead crawled up the length of his body until she was sitting astride his chest—so close that the scent of her arousal made his head spin. He was tempted to grab her thighs and pull her up higher, so he could taste her with his mouth and tongue and make her come again.
Frustrated that she was still wearing her top and panties while he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, he raised his gaze from the crux of her thighs, all the way up to her face. “You know, I’m feeling at a distinct disadvantage being completely naked, while you’re still dressed.”
“Semi-dressed,” she corrected him, and reached for the tie on the pillow beside his head. “Besides, you had your chance to get me naked. But don’t worry, I’ll get there, too.”
“I seriously can’t wait.” His stomach tightened as she wove the strip of silk between her fingers in a slow, erotic show of seduction and possession. Sitting on his chest with that I’m-so-going-to-do-you look in her eyes, she was his every fantasy come to life.
She leaned over the upper half of his body to secure his wrists together, then fastened them to one of the iron rods with a firm, inescapable knot. Her breasts were literally in his face and he nuzzled the soft, lush weight before turning his head and gently biting one of her nipples through the cotton T.
She gasped in shock and sat up straight, then narrowed her gaze playfully. “You are so going to pay for that.”
“God, I hope so.” He grinned.
She grabbed one of the condoms, but instead of getting right to business, she scooted her bottom down a bit, until his erection met the damp barrier of her panties. Face-to-face now, she lowered her mouth to his and kissed him—a slow, hot, deep kiss that made him hungry for so much more. Her damp lips traveled leisurely to his neck, down his throat, to his chest. Her soft hands followed, caressing and stroking his skin, and he groaned when her tongue flicked over one taut nipple, then sucked in a quick breath when her teeth scraped across the sensitive tip.
He felt her smile against his chest that she’d gotten even with her own love bite, then that incredible mouth and wet tongue of hers was forging a path of erotic pleasure down his stomach, until she was kneeling between his legs.
At the first delicate touch of her tongue on the tip of his cock, his entire body shuddered and his hands clenched around the bonds securing his arms to the headboard. Her lips parted over the head, and he growled deep in his throat as she took his entire shaft into her warm, wet mouth and stroked him deep. The silky strands of her hair brushed across his thighs, adding to the sensual sensations, and just when the tension inside of him started to spiral toward the breaking point, she pulled away and tore open the foil packet.
He realized he was panting for breath, and he hadn’t even come yet. He glanced down toward the foot of the bed, watching as Amanda rolled the condom on him, using both hands to do it, her own erratic breathing reflecting just how excited and eager she was, as well.
Once she had him sheathed, she sat back and peeled off her top, her full, lush breasts bouncing gently now that they were unbound. Then she shimmied out of her panties and tossed them aside. Gloriously, beautifully naked, she straddled his hips, took his cock in her hand, and eased him inside of her. She slowly, gradually lowered herself, prolonging the moment, until he found himself deep, deep inside her.
Splaying her palms on his lower belly, she raised her heavy-lidded gaze to his, her mouth lifting in a purely female smile as she set out to drive him crazy with need. She moved her hips in small circles that eventually gave way to sexier, more uninhibited strokes that increased the pleasure and friction between them. And with each breath-stealing glide of her body against his, he slid deeper, and grew impossibly harder, inside her.
He automatically tried to reach down to caress her breasts, her belly and thighs, but the ties on his wrists reminded him that he was a slave to her desires. God, he wanted to touch her in the worst way, and he would, next time. And there was no doubt in his mind that they would make love again, because he was coming to realize that having her once wasn’t going to be nearly enough for him. He wanted more…more of Amanda and everything that made her the incredible woman she was.
It didn’t take him long to realize that he didn’t need to touch Amanda at all. She knew exactly what she wanted from him, what moves aroused her the most, and she didn’t hesitate to do whatever felt good. That in itself was a huge turn-on for him, and as her climax escalated toward that ultimate sexual bliss, so did
his own.
With a soft, ragged moan, she dropped her head back and arched into him, shamelessly grinding against his groin as her orgasm rippled through her. Her inner contractions milked his shaft, and the tight, slick grip unraveled the last of his restraint in a hot and potent release that wrung him dry and ripped a strangled cry from his throat.
She collapsed on top of him and buried her face against his neck, her breathing warm and damp against his skin. She sighed softly, languidly, and he had the thought that this woman knew exactly how to tease him, please him and make him lose control, just as her note had suggested.
He smiled to himself. This night with her was, by far, the best Secret Santa gift anyone had ever given him.
* * *
Christian turned onto his side and reached his arm across the bed, but the warm, soft female body he’d slept with, and made love with the entire night, was gone. He came awake slowly, the scent of Amanda and sex filling every breath he inhaled. It was a great way to wake up, and that’s all it took to rouse his senses, and other parts of his anatomy.
A sleepy glance at the clock on the nightstand told him it was 8:24 in the morning on Saturday, and his completely sated body confirmed that last night hadn’t been a dream, but a vivid, provocative reality. One that had sent his life as he knew it spinning in a direction he never would have anticipated.
He rolled to his back and stretched, a smile easing up the corners of his mouth as erotic memories flooded his mind. Who would have thought that cool, poised Amanda Creighton was such a temptress in private? Who would have thought that Amanda Creighton would become the one woman he wanted more than just a casual fling with?
Startling, but true. Sure, he’d always been attracted to her, and while sex with Amanda had been phenomenal, there were so many other things about her that intrigued him, so many contradictions that made him curious to know her on a deeper, more emotional level. It wasn’t a smart move, all things considered. Like the fact that she was the boss’s daughter. Like the fact that he’d worked damn hard to get that coveted promotion that Doug Creighton had the ability to give, or take away.
Still, knowing all that, he wasn’t quite ready to end things with Amanda. And with that thought in mind, he hauled himself out of bed so they could make the most of their day together. That was, if she didn’t already have plans.
He heard noises from another part of the apartment, and judging by the clattering sounds, he guessed she was in the kitchen. Perfect. With her busy, it gave him time to take a quick shower before greeting her. As he crossed the room, he glanced at an open door and realized it was her closet. A huge walk-in closet, and he switched on the light, curious to see what was inside.
Lots of clothes, obviously, and he couldn’t help but grin at the way they were all hung up in a neat, orderly fashion by pants, blouses, dresses, then sorted by color. There were drawers and cubbyholes filled with purses and belts and those sensible shoes she wore to work, but what drew his attention was the custom-built, floor-to-ceiling rack displaying dozens of colorful, sexy, high-heel shoes. The strappy, traffic-stopping kind she’d worn last night with her pajamas.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured in amusement. It appeared that Ms. Creighton had a shoe fetish of some sort. One she kept private for some reason, because he sure as hell hadn’t seen her wearing any of those hot, seductive shoes before. And they were just too provocative for any man not to sit up and take notice if they had been on her feet.
This secret side to Amanda was yet another intriguing facet to her personality.
He continued on to the bathroom and noticed that she’d left a brand new toothbrush on the counter for him, which he appreciated. He took a quick hot shower and got dressed, sans the tie this morning. After finger-combing his damp hair, he strolled barefoot down the hall, following the scent of coffee and something else that smelled delicious, according to his rumbling, empty stomach.
He stopped at the entryway into the kitchen, where Amanda was standing at the stove cooking breakfast. Choosing just to watch her for a few minutes without making his arrival known, he leaned against the doorjamb and took in the long-sleeve pink sweater she was wearing and the crisp, new-looking pair of designer jeans that hugged her curves, including that fine ass of hers that he’d held in his hands more than once last night. Much to his disappointment, on her feet were practical leather loafers, instead of one of those pairs of sexy, flirtatious shoes in her closet.
He was going to have to do something to change that.
He heard her say something, and thinking she was talking to him, he lifted his gaze from her feet back up—and realized that she was still facing away from him as she buttered some toast, still unaware of his presence. She was carrying on a one-way conversation with herself, and it wasn’t the first time he’d caught her doing so. There was that time in the break room yesterday, and again last night when he could have sworn she’d asked him to stop touching her and she’d tried to explain it away with a strange “no, not you” remark.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Amanda said with a sigh. “I have to admit it was pretty damn good. The best sex I’ve ever had.”
He grinned. Male ego aside, Christian liked the fact that he’d given her something no man ever had before, and knew he felt the same way about her. “Me, too.”
She abruptly whirled around, a butter knife in her hand and her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t know you were out of the shower already.”
Pushing off the doorjamb, he strolled across the kitchen toward her. “It would have taken much longer, and been far more enjoyable, if you would have joined me.” She blushed, and he kissed her soft, parted lips, lingering just long enough to let her know that last night meant something more to him than a one-night stand. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she replied huskily, and absently licked her bottom lip before turning back to her task. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure, I’ll get it.” There was already a second mug on the counter for him, and he poured himself a cup before glancing at the two plates of food on the counter. “Breakfast smells terrific.”
“Good.” She cut two slices of toast in half and added them to their dishes. “I made you a vegetable-and-cheese omelet. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s certainly better than the bowl of Cheerios I usually eat in the morning, and it’s very appreciated. I’m starved.” Picking up his mug of coffee, he took a sip as she carried their breakfast to the small kitchen table. “So, do you talk to yourself often?” he asked.
She stiffened ever so slightly, seemed to regain her composure, then turned toward him again. She shrugged, but surprisingly didn’t deny her penchant for personal conversations. “It’s an odd habit of mine,” she said, waving dismissively as she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of orange juice.
Odd, yes, but also endearing. And since it was clear that the topic embarrassed her, he switched to a different, but equally intriguing, one. “I do have a curious question for you.”
She poured two glasses of OJ and cast him a cautious, uncertain glance. “Okay.”
“You know those shoes you wore last night?”
She looked away, but not before he saw yet another flush of pink sweep across her cheeks, as if she were remembering what he’d said about those high heels he’d taken off for her. “Yes.”
“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you have a whole closet full of them.” She lifted a brow as if to ask what he’d been doing in her closet, but he wasn’t about to let her sidetrack this conversation, too. “How come you never wear any of those shoes to work?”
“Because they aren’t appropriate for the office,” she said and set the two glasses of orange juice on the table.
Her answer came much too easily, as if she’d spent years convincing herself of that fact. What she didn’t realize, however, was that he’d seen that quick glimpse of insecurity in her gaze before she’d masked it with a nonchalant reply.
; He tipped his head, daring to challenge her. “Says who?”
“It’s not exactly the image I want to portray at work,” she tried to explain, but he sensed her reasons ran much deeper than that. “Besides, it’s more of a hobby for me than anything else.”
“Collecting designer shoes?” he asked incredulously.
She came up beside him and topped off her own mug with the steaming coffee. “Hey, we all have our quirks.”
Hers were just a bit more eccentric than most. Who spent hundreds of dollars on shoes that they didn’t wear and enjoy? “You really ought to put them to good use and wear them.” He reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across her smooth cheek. Her gaze softened, and something very near to the vicinity of his heart gave a distinct thump of emotional awareness. “Those shoes change the way you look, the way you carry yourself. They make you look damn sexy and very confident.”
Laughing lightly, she flitted away from him and headed to the table with her mug in hand. “Well, I’m sure I’d shock everyone, including my father, if I came strutting into work in four-inch strappy heels.”
Ahhh, her father. He wondered at their relationship outside of the office, if he’d been a strict parent with her, or if being so reserved was all her own doing. “Maybe the first day, yes,” he agreed as he sat down next to her. “But honestly, who cares? Why not wear them because they make you feel good?”
She picked up her fork and smiled at him. “I do wear them.”
“In private. At home.” He grinned wryly. “Wow, you’re such a rebel.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, but didn’t reply to his comment, choosing instead to let the entire subject slide, which she was very good at, he was coming to realize.
“So, what are you doing for the holidays?” she asked brightly.
His stomach growled hungrily, and he dug into his omelet. “I’m driving to my parents’ house in Boston tomorrow afternoon.”
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