He heard Aubrey gasp, but she didn’t sever the connection.
“Are you alone?” he asked in as low and sexy a voice as he could manage—not difficult considering his throat had closed up.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Not anymore.” A crazy answer. Of course he was alone, but having Aubrey on the line made him feel less lonely—an emotion Liam had experienced far too frequently since Patrick’s contest made him all too often the unwelcome messenger bearing bad news. “What are you wearing?”
“A smile.”
His brain nearly imploded. He gulped his wine. “Anything else?”
“A nightgown.”
“You’re a tease, Aubrey Holt. What color?”
“Black.”
Liam groaned. “Details, please.”
She hesitated so long Liam feared the game he’d anticipated since last night was over. “Long with spaghetti straps and a lace bodice. There are sheer bits on my—”
“Wait,” he groaned. His control wavering, he took another sip of wine. “Let me savor that much before you send me into overload with more.” He closed his eyes and pictured Aubrey dressed as she’d described, in a puddle of black filmy fabric lying on his cream-colored sheets, waiting for him. And he ached. His body pulsed and throbbed, growing heavy with need. A saner man would take a cold shower or take matters into his own hand. “I’m ready. Where are the sheer bits?”
“Guess.”
Her answer surprised a laugh out of him. “I need a hint. High or low?”
“High.”
“If I were with you, could I see your breasts? Your nipples?”
“Yes.”
Liam fisted his hand in his hair and took an unsteady breath. “You definitely fight dirty.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Boxers. Silk. Blue.” And they’d suddenly become tight. Very, very tight.
“No thong?”
He grinned, opened the nightstand drawer and extracted the garment. He stroked the smooth satin between his fingers. “No. That’s in my hand. It smells like you, but your skin is softer, warmer.”
Her gasp filled his ear. “You’re good at this obscene phone call business.”
“I could get better with practice.”
“Are we going to practice?” Was that a hopeful note in her voice?
Should he continue this insane game, continue to lose sleep and drive himself to the aching edge of need again and again? “I’d like to.”
“Me, too.”
If he didn’t change the subject he was going to lose what was left of his sanity and the call would go from sexy to raunchy. “Was today better than yesterday?”
“You mean at work?” Her sigh carried over the phone lines. “Not really. Sometimes I wonder if I should quit and find a job where I don’t have to work so hard to prove myself.”
The frustration in her voice came across loud and clear. “What happened?”
Seconds ticked past. “My father assigned me a task. I called a staff meeting and explained what I needed. But no one listens to me. They all think I was given my job because of my father and not because I earned it.”
“I don’t have to worry about that with EPH. Patrick made each of us pay our dues by working our way up through the ranks.”
“I’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean to ruin your call by whining.”
“You’re not whining, and I needed to change the subject before I asked you to take off your nightgown and touch yourself the way I would if I were there.”
A half-choked sound carried over the line. “And would you return the favor? Touch yourself the way I want to?”
Desire churned thick and hot through his veins. He cursed. “Yes. Anywhere you want.”
“Next time, then.” And then he heard a click followed by the dial tone.
Next time. The words energized him, filling him with an anticipation for tomorrow that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Aubrey floated through her workday in a cloud of excitement, unwarranted by her position as VP of single copy sales. She’d breezed through phone calls with uncooperative distributors and meetings with the other circulation department staff. None of the usual daily irritations had brought her down or driven her for a double Mocha Frappuccino, her help-I’m-losing-it drink.
If only every day could be this enjoyable. She felt a twinge of unease. It was really pitiful that she sought, from a voice on the phone, the approval she couldn’t get at work.
Since arriving home she’d showered and shampooed, given herself a manicure and pedicure all in preparation for her hot date with the telephone. She’d set her alarm for midnight, but she hadn’t needed the annoying beep to wake her because there was no chance she’d drift off to sleep with this overdose of adrenaline flowing through her veins. She’d been watching the clock for what seemed like hours.
She stepped into the sexy teddy she’d darted out to purchase at lunchtime, tied the ribbon bows on each shoulder and brushed her hands over the lace covering her. The regret that Liam would never see the seductive garment dampened her excitement a little.
Finally it was time to call. Her heart raced and her mouth dried. She took a sip from the bottle of water on her nightstand, settled back against her mountain of pillows and dialed.
“Hello.”
Goose bumps raced over her skin at the sound of Liam’s voice. “This is an obscene phone call. Hang up if you don’t want to listen.”
Liam snorted. “Are you kidding? Do you know any guy who would hang up if he had a beautiful woman promising to talk dirty to him?”
A smile twitched on her lips. His comment erased much of her nervousness. “I bought something very special for you today. I’m wearing it.”
“She goes for the kill on the first line,” he muttered in a barely audible tone. “Describe it for me,” he said in a louder voice.
“It’s lacy and sheer and very brief.” I can’t believe you’re doing this, A.
“Tell me more.” His pitch was lower, huskier.
Her nipples beaded and desire tangled low in her belly. “It’s cut very high and very low. My legs are bare. And it’s sheer and red. A teddy with a bow on each shoulder. One tug on each ribbon and…”
He groaned. “You’re killing me, Aubrey.”
Her inner rebel relished this brief interlude of feeling sexy and desirable and wanted. She’d never have the nerve to act as brazen face-to-face. “I want to talk about fantasies tonight. Tell me, Liam, in your secret fantasies where is the one place you’d like to make love but haven’t?”
“At a Mets game,” he replied without hesitation.
That jarred her right out of fantasy land. She’d never attended a baseball game, but she couldn’t imagine finding a private place in Shea Stadium. “A Mets game.”
“You?”
She shook away the disturbing image of crowds, stale beer and peanut shells. Did she dare confess her secret? “An elevator.”
She heard the whistle of his breath. “That could be arranged.”
“I know, and I think about your private elevator at night when I—” no, she would not confess that “—when I can’t sleep.”
“Untie the bows, Aubrey.”
She did as he asked. The lace slid downward, temporarily snagging on her erect nipples and then gliding into a puddle at her waist.
“If I were there I’d kiss you, taste you until you begged me to stop,” he promised in a gravelly whisper that made her lightheaded.
A quiver started deep inside Aubrey and radiated outward. “What makes you think I’d ever ask you to stop?”
“Aubrey.” Her name was half moan, half plea.
Her pulsed fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings and she squirmed restlessly, aching for his touch. “What are you doing right now, Liam?”
“Wishing you were here. This is insane. I need to see you.”
“We can’t. My father and your grandfather would never forgive us.”
“To hell wi
th them.”
Regret tightened Aubrey’s throat, dousing the sparks of arousal that had flared within her the moment she’d begun her evening preparations. She wished she could believe she and Liam had a future together, but even if Liam didn’t consider her father the enemy, Aubrey knew from her mother’s multiple marriages that love at first sight was an illusion. What she had with Liam, though breathtakingly powerful and thought-consuming at the moment, would pass.
“Liam, what we have is temporary. Our families aren’t.”
And then she hung up.
She had to end this and she had to end it now. If he called tomorrow night she wouldn’t answer her phone.
“I have your books and I’m holding them hostage.”
Aubrey nearly dropped the phone when she heard Liam’s voice. She quickly glanced out her open office door and exhaled when she spotted her administrative assistant’s empty chair. A check of her watch revealed it was almost six. Linda must have left for the day. “You shouldn’t have called here.”
“I’m using a pay phone. No caller ID will trace the call back to me, and I used the automated directory instead of going through the Holt Enterprises operator. The ransom I’m demanding for the books is dinner.”
So much for her plan to ignore him. Temptation nipped at her, but guilt took an even bigger bite. The preliminary report on EPH from the advertising department lay on her desk waiting to be read, edited and forwarded to her father. Aubrey shoved it into a drawer without reading it. Whatever the report contained was common knowledge among the advertising staff. She hadn’t pried and hadn’t gained the information using underhanded methods.
She still felt guilty.
Just say no, A. “We can’t risk meeting in public.”
“My place. I’ll cook.”
What happened to no? “Did you say books, plural?”
“I did. I have everything ever published by the author you mentioned, including an autographed copy of her recently released hardcover. But if you want them it’s going to cost you. I need to see you, Aubrey.”
Common sense warred with desire. “And you accused me of fighting dirty.”
“I play to win, and I promise that if you join me tonight we’ll both win. I’ll be waiting in the elevator at seven o’clock. Carlos, the doorman, will give you the key.” The dial tone sounded.
The elevator. Did that mean what she thought it did? Aubrey couldn’t catch her breath. She lowered the receiver, pressed a hand to her chest and tried to calm down to no avail. Tremors of excitement and nervousness shook her.
Did she have the courage to accept Liam’s challenge? There was only one way to find out.
Liam leaned against the mirrored elevator wall and sipped his champagne. Five after seven. Would Aubrey show or had he pushed too far too fast?
You shouldn’t be pushing at all. You should be walking away. But he couldn’t. Aubrey Holt had taken possession of his thoughts, and he couldn’t evict her no matter how hard he tried. And he had tried.
His heart chugged slower, heavier as minutes dragged past and Aubrey didn’t arrive. He’d learned that she was punctuality-conscious at their first meeting. If she were coming tonight she wouldn’t be late. Disappointment weighted his shoulders. He ought to pack it in and carry back to his apartment the ice bucket standing in one corner of the elevator and the bouquet of red roses lying in the other. He’d bought a dozen roses—not because that was the tradition but because they’d met and made love the first time twelve days ago.
Romantic sap. You didn’t make love, you had sex. Mind-boggling, cook-your-brain sex.
The elevator jolted and so did his heart, and then the doors glided open. Aubrey stood in the foyer, with nervousness filling her wide eyes and white teeth digging into her siren-red lipstick. She held her purse in front of her waist in a white-knuckled grip. Liam couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face—one of relief, happiness—as he took in her seductive attire.
A black wraparound dress hugged her slender waist and dipped low between her breasts. Skimpy high-heeled sandals put her eyes on level with his. And her hair was rumpled, as if she’d just crawled out of bed.
“Come inside, drop your bag and push the button for my floor.”
She hesitated, her gaze roving over the ice bucket, the roses and then him in a slow head-to-toe perusal. Her breasts rose and fell on a deep breath before she did as he asked. Her scent mingled with the heavier perfume of the roses. The elevator whizzed upward, leaving Liam’s stomach behind. Or maybe the woman a yard away caused the roller-coaster effect.
Aubrey knotted her fingers in front of her. The hem of her dress, which he could see in a multitude of reflections, swished almost imperceptibly with the fine tremor of her body. He poured her a flute of champagne. Their fingers touched on the stem as she accepted the glass. His pulse stuttered and her breath hitched. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too. I’m sorry I’m late. I went home to change first.”
Tension eased from his shoulders. He’d feared second thoughts had caused her tardiness. “It was worth the wait. You look incredible. Sexy as hell.”
She swallowed the champagne in her mouth with a sudden and audible gulp and her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. You too.”
“Thanks.” He’d showered, shaved and yanked on pale gray slacks and a pullover sweater in a darker shade. Same routine he’d follow for any other date, but this wasn’t like any other date. Tonight he was as nervous as a kid on prom night.
The elevator stopped on his floor and the doors opened. Liam made no effort to step out. Aubrey had said she fantasized about making love on an elevator, and he intended to fulfill that fantasy tonight—if she’d let him. The doors closed.
Her violet eyes found his and the awareness of his intent widened her pupils and quickened her breath.
Liam fought the hunger that urged him to grab her, yank the tie on the sexy dress to reveal the satiny skin beneath and then bury himself inside her. Hard. Deep. He used to have more finesse, more patience, but tonight a battle raged inside him.
Slow down.
“Decent day?” he forced out even though his mouth watered for the taste of her.
She rolled one shoulder. “As decent as it gets.”
The telling flatness of her voice said more than her words. “You don’t like your job.”
She stared into her glass, swirling the pale liquid around and then sipping. “I’m good at what I do.”
“But?”
Her troubled gaze met his. “But no, I don’t enjoy my job.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Another swirl of champagne. Another sip. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me. Tomorrow is Sunday and neither of us has to work. We have all night.”
Her lips parted and then her pink tongue darted out to dampen them. “My father was there for me when I needed him. I owe him.”
“Family duty is a heavy cross to bear.” A fact he knew well.
“What would you do if you didn’t work for EPH?”
If he didn’t work for EPH…Not something he’d ever contemplated. “I don’t know. Maybe try my hand at making wine.”
“Making wine?” Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
He leaned against the brass rail separating the mirrored upper portion of the compartment from the dark wainscoting lining the bottom of the walls. Why did he feel comfortable confessing this to Aubrey when he’d never done so with his family or friends? “Wine’s a hobby. I’ve been studying viticulture and enology for years.”
She saluted with her now empty flute. “I don’t know how much you’ve learned about growing grapes or making wine, but may I commend you on your taste in champagne?”
He nodded acceptance of the compliment. “Refill?”
The corners of her lips turned up. “Maybe later.”
Liam’s pulse beat as fast as a drum roll. He wanted to make love with Aubrey. No doubt about it. But he would have been happy to just have her comp
any. He took her glass and set it beside his on the floor, and then he straightened. The desire in Aubrey’s eyes slammed into him like a subway train, knocking the air from his lungs and the ability to think from his head. He lifted a hand and cradled her silky cheek. She leaned into his palm and her lids fluttered closed. A smile of pleasure curved her lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this since last night,” he confessed, and then he kissed her, sinking into the damp softness of her lips and savoring the taste of Aubrey, a flavor uniquely hers combined with a nuance of the champagne.
He tunneled his fingers through her soft hair to cradle her nape and banded his opposite arm around her waist to pull her flush against him. Warm and pliant, she arched into him in perfect alignment. Her breasts teased his chest and the softness of her mound cushioned his erection.
Her arms wound around his waist and her fingers kneaded the tight muscles of his back. She angled her head, granting him deeper access, and hunger inflamed him. He shaped her shoulders with his palms, traced the line of her spine and the indention of her waist, and then he filled his hands with her tight, round bottom. A perfect fit.
Need rose inside him with overwhelming, suffocating strength. He raked his hands over her hips, down her thighs and then up again, carrying the hem of her dress with him. His fingertips encountered silken hose, an elastic band and a strip of bare skin. Stockings. He groaned into her mouth and traced the line of lacy elastic across the backs of her upper thighs. He explored higher and found nothing. Aubrey wasn’t wearing panties or even a thong. Gasping for air, he yanked back his head and then he gritted his teeth as sexual heat pulsed through him with an urgency he’d never faced.
“You definitely fight dirty.”
A smile quivered on her damp lips and mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I like to be prepared.”
He eased a few inches between them and pulled the string fastening her dress at her waist. The rustle of the fabric ties against each other seemed unnaturally loud in the small compartment. He lifted both hands to cradle her face and kissed her again, fighting desperately to get a grip on his slipping control. He mapped the shape of her ears with this thumbs, smoothed over her fluttering pulse and then traced the V of her neckline. When he reached the valley between her breasts, he nudged the fabric aside and his knees nearly buckled.
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 52