by Livia Quinn
Slowly she unwrapped her belt and reaching up draped it around his neck. Taking both ends in her hand she tugged him toward her. “Kiss me,” she said in her Lana voice.
The camera flashed as he reached for her hand, pressing it to his chest and bent his head to seal his mouth to hers. And that was all she wrote…
It wouldn’t have mattered if the camera went off a dozen times or a thousand after that. His hands roamed over her sweet curves. He drowned in twin cerulean pools, her lips parting so his tongue could thrust inside and begin their love play.
Chapter Thirteen
Buffy took his hand and backed off the platform. He followed. He’d told her he wasn’t stopping again. His body wanted to hold him to that, but he knew he had to make sure this was what she wanted because frankly, he was feeling like a voyeur in his own fantasy. Any minute he’d wake up. But, please God, not yet.
Her long legs, in those sexy high-heeled boots, slayed him. Her sweet leather clad butt and narrow waist with that walk of hers… He followed her, just like he’d followed her off the elevator.
She let go of his hand and lit the candles by her bed. He watched her elegant movements until she turned and in three purposeful strides, returned to him. “Now, where were we?” She reminded him by leaning forward, taking his nipple between her teeth, and then drawing her tongue across his skin.
“I’ve wanted to taste your skin ever since I first saw you on that stage. He allowed her to explore, running her hands over his biceps, gliding over the ridges of his torso, and headed lower until he stopped her.
He’d wanted his hands on her, itched to stroke her, to tease and pleasure her for… so long. He raised her hair off her shoulder with one hand and unsnapped the lace of her cape. Without that cape, the full beauty of her figure with the shiny black leather molding her curves was on display.
“Let me,” he said. He turned her so he could sit on the edge of the bed, then pulling her between his legs, trailed his fingers over her, exploring that luscious skin. “You feel like silk. I never dreamed you could be more beautiful in person, but you are…” He dipped his tongue behind the bodice of her outfit and she shivered, her head falling back as he ran kisses across her chest, up her throat, and then tongued her ear.
“That was a good spot, huh?” he asked when she trembled. “That’s one,” he smiled, tracing his lips back down between her breasts, down further, and then he positioned her back from the edge a little and knelt between her legs.
Two stretches of thigh were exposed between her stockings and the short “hot” pants. He kissed one inner thigh, then the other. Another shiver. “That’s two.” He ran his tongue up the other thigh, and ignored the quivering he felt there, “Just a freebie.” He lifted her hand. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he said, and kissed her thighs all the way to her center.
“Ridge,” she moaned.
“Ridge what, baby?” He rose and sat on the bed again pulling her down to sit on his thigh, his erection straining the leather. Her back arched and her chest thrust toward him. He pulled her close enough to take her mouth, a demanding, urgent kiss, which left them both again, breathless.
He reached around and lowered the zipper on the top until the bodice loosened and he could take one nipple between his teeth, tugging on the tip until she fisted his hair and pulled, “Oh… ”
“That’s three,” he smiled, and set his fingers busy on the other nipple while he sucked hard on the first.
She squirmed on his knee, arched her back, ran both hands through his hair. “I love your hair. It’s so silky and… thick. Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please… you’re a torturer.”
He smiled at her. “Now that’s a compliment.” He pushed the zipper down on her shorts and eased his hand inside. Her skin was hot, and moist, and he wanted to put his mouth there.
She unzipped his pants and guided his cock out into her hand. He thought she said, “Get it done, make love to me.” She angled her head and kissed him, her tongue searching for his.
He kissed her back and almost gave in to the immediacy of her demand, but he’d been dreaming about her for too long. He drove his tongue to her tonsils while his hands eased the shorts over her hips. Unlocking their lips he said, “Raise up. That’s it, just for a second.”
He worked the black leather down her legs, over the screw-me boots and then set about doing just that. His fingers toyed with her opening as she spread her legs, balanced on his thigh. One long finger entered her, and a low feminine moan escaped.
He rose with her and turned, positioning her on the edge of the bed. Easing her back, he moved down to taste the warmth fragrant skin. Suckling at her breasts, his fingers trailed down her sides. With his tongue following the path of his fingertips, he dipped into her navel and finally arrived… where he wanted to be.
The pouty wet petals of her lower lips were musky with need and he rubbed the swollen bud. She moaned. “Buffy,” he said softly. Her eyes opened and she raised her head. He ran his tongue across her and she jerked, gasped.
He smiled down into her eyes. “That’s four.”
She glared at him. “Quit counting and do something!”
He chuckled against those silky lips, breathed on her, licked her. She came off the bed, keening, her fists clenching the covers. “You’re hot, baby. But I want you hotter.”
“Any hotter and we’ll be interrupted by the sprinkler system,” she panted. “Please, Ridge, I want you inside me.”
“And that’ll happen, baby, believe me. I want to come inside you,” he said fervently, teeth clenched against the desire to quit and just plunge into her. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but this needs doing right.” He lowered his mouth to her center and sucked on the dewy flesh. Then his tongue plunged into that wet heat and with his lips and hands he worked her into a frenzy.
He tweaked her nipple, smiling as he drew on the slickness of her sweet heat, then she rose off the bed and climaxed. “Damn, damn, damn,” was followed by, “Oh, Ridge, more.” This time, when she reached for him, he stripped and went into her arms.
Funny how getting what you most want will just make things happen naturally. He rose above her, readying her for him, widening the luscious folds as the tip of his hard length brushed her. She tugged him down and he stroked her once with his hand feeling how wet and ready she was for him, then plunged in hard.
But she was so tight. He withdrew and thrust again halfway, then pushed inside her. She wrapped those long legs around him locking him to her. His hips moved as he drove once again, this time breaching… the barrier—what the hell?
He started to withdraw, but her legs held fast, and her hips, hesitant at first, moved against him rhythmically now. “Now, Ridge, please.”
He growled thrusting deep, and again. And then he was lost in her heat, her tight, virgin heat. With that thought, he came, dimly registering her cries and the spasms around him as he buried himself in her depths. Then he lowered his head, kissed her tenderly in the aftermath, as her core spasmed around him. He didn’t withdraw but eased them both to the side so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight.
His mind was reeling. He could feel her hand stroking his hair, feel her chest expand with her sighs, and then, he thought she dozed. He just lay there staring at the ceiling until he was no longer hard. Then, using his arms, he levered himself up and off of her and stood, looking down at her flushed and beautiful sleeping form.
She’d been a virgin. A damn virgin! He plowed his hand through his hair and punched out a breath. How could he have known? It was too much for him to get his head around that quickly. He scooped her up gently and laid her lengthwise on the bed, kissing her lips. She smiled in her sleep. At least she was smiling.
He wasn’t. He turned, went into the bathroom to clean up and then walked into the kitchen of the suite.
Chapter Fourteen
There was a cup of cold coffee sitting on the counter. Taking it with him into the main room, he eased into a chair. Leaning ov
er to his wrinkled suit coat, he pulled his cigarette case out and took one from it. He was not a regular smoker. He was, however, a stress smoker—occasionally. And this day qualified.
Which was worse—having a sitting Congressperson accuse him of using his brother’s death to increase his wealth, or discovering the woman he’d lusted after, a woman who should have been experienced and certainly had her choice of hundreds of men, was a virgin? And he, Ridge Romano had—what was the old fashioned word—deflowered her.
He shook his head, going over the whole evening and the last several days again. There was nothing she’d said or did that would have clued him in. God, what had he done? He was such a jerk. His head sank into his hands.
Was this going to give her a bad taste in her mouth for him? He hoped not, because, he wanted to keep seeing her. He no longer thought of her as Lana, the famous ingénue and cover model. She was Buffy, a completely different woman than the one he’d dreamed about. All the same, the dream had become reality.
How had she survived from teenage ingénue and international star to adulthood chaste?
Why… why hadn’t she told him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Had he actually heard her pant, “Get it done.”? But why now? And why him?
He bent over, scrubbed his scalp. Maybe he had it wrong. He’d wanted her for so long—maybe that had colored his memory of how it had all gone down.
Then he remembered…she’d started it. Licking him, touching him… He sat up, took a puff of the cigarette to keep from groaning out loud. She’d led him into the bedroom after choosing black leather for the last shoot, an “erotic” shoot, she’d said.
Everything she’d done had led to him taking—no—her taking him to the bedroom. She’d seduced him.
So what was his problem?
In the Army, he’d been bent on following in his brother’s footsteps, knowing his life would probably end on some top secret mission and no one would ever know, all because he was a better mechanic than most. He’d had other women, brief affairs, nothing lasting, but he’d always treated women with respect, and he’d always been careful. Until tonight. He sighed heavily. How had that gone wrong?
He had too many responsibilities now to get involved in a personal relationship; Belinda and Carrie depended on him. He couldn’t afford to be diverted from his mission. He’d apparently given ‘little Ridge’ his head.
No. He had to give Buffy some credit. Sure, he’d been attracted to what he’d seen on the surface. But it hadn’t taken him long to see that behind the sexiness she was smart, a savvy businesswoman. Discerning. And that was part of the problem. As a model she’d traveled extensively, retired from a business in her early twenties for pity’s sake. She hadn’t acted the part of a virgin. She’d said nothing about it.
Dammit, why hadn’t she said something? He would have left her alone. But she’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. He’d seen the heat in those beautiful blue eyes. When they were wide and open to him, he felt like he was on the beach in Fiji staring into the clear blue waters, and had felt two emotions at once—calm and desire. Opposing forces and yet… big luminous blue eyes surrounded in pale slate gray making them do that take me thing… uh, huh. Who had seduced whom? So there!
“I didn’t know you smoked,” the voice came from behind him.
Once again Ridge had been surprised. No one snuck up on him, ever. And yet this slender beauty had nearly made him jump out of the chair. He was good at hiding it, however. He looked down at the cigarette, decided against taking one long drag and poked the glowing end into the cup of cold coffee.
Rising, he turned to her, preparing to tell her he was sorry, and to take his leave. He wouldn’t slink away, though he’d considered it.
Chapter Fifteen
A sound had awakened Buffy from a satiated dream. Her dark lover was making love to her so gently, but he wouldn’t take what she offered, insisting she wait while he… counted? Her eyes drifted open and she realized in her dream she’d been counting each time the ringer on Ridge’s phone vibrated on the nightstand. She reached over and plucked it up, intending to turn it off, and spotted the name on the screen, “Belinda.”
Her mind snapped awake. She’d just made love to a man who knew a woman that felt comfortable calling him at 1 a.m. Were her instincts wrong about him? She felt the other side of the bed and finding it cold, she threw the sheet around her and grabbed his phone.
Why had he left? Was he disappointed? Had she been that bad? Was it because she had been a virgin? Well, someone had to be the first. How would a woman get better at it, if she didn’t get a second shot?
And what was she going to do about that affirming heart clench her grandmother told her about, the little stabs she’d been getting on a regular basis ever since she’d met Ridge.
She frowned as the smell of cigarette smoke drifted into the bedroom. With Ridge’s phone in her hand, she watched him from the doorway, a sliver of light from between the drapes revealed him sitting in the armchair, smoke from a cigarette, rising through the rays. He was in deep thought. He’d been so tender and sweet; inventive, teasing her, tasting … she needed to find out what was wrong.
He didn’t have his shirt on. That lovely sculpted torso gleamed. She hadn’t seen him smoke a cigarette, hadn’t smelled it on him. He was intensely studying the wallpaper in front of him.
So it was as she feared. She’d embarrassed herself as a lover. He was having second thoughts.
She watched him heave a slow exhale and rub his forehead with his long dexterous fingers. With an image of those fingers trailing over her nipples, she felt the dampness again between her legs. He hadn’t hurt her. After he’d discovered she was… inexperienced he’d looked down at her for long torturous seconds. She’d wondered if he was going to stop, but then she felt him get harder inside her and her muscles had responded, squeezing him, turning the gritted jaw muscle clenching to a rather vocal sigh of pleasure.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” she said quietly.
Surprisingly, his shoulders tensed. She’d been quiet, yes, but had even cleared her throat before she spoke. “What are you doing out here?” His long muscular arm extended and he plunged the cigarette tip into the coffee cup near him then he turned, as if he were facing a firing squad.
“What’s wrong? Are you leaving?”
He looked indecisive. He tilted his head to the side contemplating his answer, and exhaled. “I figured you’d want me to.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “How did that happen?”
She blinked. “What do you mean, how did what happen?”
“You’ve… never had a lover before.”
She laughed. “You noticed.” Her humor dissipated though when she saw he was truly distressed. Did he think he’d forced her? Hurt her? “Call it like it is, Ridge. I was a virgin.” She smiled. Was a virgin. Buffy was perfectly happy with the state of affairs and she wasn’t about to let him make her feel inadequate, unhappy or sorry for her choice. Because it had been her choice.
“That’s my point. How did that happen? You’ve had opportunities, you’ve traveled, met plenty of intriguing men surely…”
“I have, yes. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed that I was inexperienced. You’d rather I took some lovers for practice?”
His head dropped to his chest, the thick black hair ruffling as he shook his head. “This is all wrong.”
“Wrong?” she asked weakly. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I’m hurting you. I just wasn’t expecting you to be a virgin. I could have done things differently…”
“Or not at all, I’m thinking.” She stared, “Did it bother you that much?” Buffy was trying to keep her voice level but the hurt was quickly overwhelming her. “I feel like I should apologize for giving you something I held back until the time, the man, was right.”
He said, “Not that I’m not flattered…”
“You should be,” she said.
“But why me?” He was truly baffled.
She said, “Because I never wanted to have sex with another man this badly, and…I trusted you.”
He winced at her use of past tense.
“When I was modeling I felt I had to protect myself constantly from being used or taken advantage of because I was so young. After that, it got easier until I made the decision to wait. With you it just felt right.”
He felt guilty, doubted his own motivation. After all, he’d wanted her, but he’d been wrong, and not because he found out he was the only man she’d given herself to. Okay, that hadn’t helped. She said she’d trusted him. He plowed his hand through his hair. He didn’t want her to think this has been a casual roll in the hay, but if he was going to convince her, he needed to slow down. And he wasn’t sure he could. He was drawn to her like oxygen to fire.
Laying the object she had in her hand on the counter, her hand lifted and the sheet she’d been holding to her breasts floated to the floor. She reached for his hand, loving the feel of those large strong fingers curling around hers. His eyebrow arched as she tugged him forward.
“I didn’t intend for my first night to end like this,” she said softly. He knew he should resist, and hesitated for a few seconds, but allowed her to lead him back to the bedroom.
Daylight filtered through the drapes as Ridge lay spooned around Buffy. Once again, he marveled at how he’d wound up here. With her. The photo shoot had been okay. He got to watch her work, doing what she loved which was amazing. She was a natural at it.
He’d seen her portfolio lying on the small hotel room desk and had taken a peak inside. Layouts of models in an assortment of poses and landscapes with vibrant hues that drew the eye with their detail filled the folder. Her talent was obvious, even to him.