by Susan Fox
He slid his hands down her back, over the silky black camisole and down to, oh, yes, the bare flesh of her ass. She was wearing a thong. He was glad he hadn’t known that earlier, or he’d have spent the evening with a permanent hard-on.
Cupping her firm cheeks in both hands, he felt the play of muscles as she shifted weight from foot to foot.
“I love your sweater.” She tugged at the hem of it—the sweater he’d bought because, on Saturday night, she’d said a black V-neck sweater would show off his build and coloring. “But you’re overdressed.”
He eased away and, as he pulled off the garment, he felt her hands at his waist. By the time he tossed his sweater onto the chair, his pants were sliding down his legs. He bent to step out of them and threw them on top of the sweater. Then, naked but for a thin layer of Armani, he took Kat in his arms again.
They danced a while like that, his hands stroking her back, caressing her ass, tracing the line of the thong. Then he peeled off her camisole. Her black bra was almost as skimpy as her thong. The fullness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the lace of the bra a gentle abrasion.
He tilted her head up to his and kissed her in movements as slow and subtle as their dance.
He undid the back fastening of her bra and slid the straps down her arms. Pulled the garment free. Felt her breasts crush against him.
Her hands had found their way inside his briefs and were stroking his ass. “Let’s go to bed now,” she whispered.
He lifted her, placed her on the bed, and marveled at the sight of her sprawled out in the candlelight, clad only in a black thong and the earrings he’d given her. “You’re so sexy.”
Then he skimmed off his briefs.
“You’re pretty sexy yourself,” she said in a sultry tone as he lay down beside her. When he began to caress her breasts, she said, “No, I want you inside me. Enough stalling on this Kama Sutra stuff or you’re going to make me think you can’t deliver.”
“Trust me, I can deliver.” In fact his body ached with the need to deliver.
When he pulled off her thong, she was swollen, so hot and moist as she ground against his hand.
After donning a condom, he slipped a pillow under her ass to ease the strain on her lower back and spread her legs. Kneeling between them, he admired the rosy lushness of her sex in the flickering candlelight.
“Let’s start with your legs up, knees bent. The Lotus is hard to hold for long if you’re not really flexible, so we’ll ease up to it.”
“I can be flexible.” There was humor in her voice, but the flush on her cheeks confirmed her arousal. She raised her legs, bending her knees.
He took hold of her knees and pressed them gently toward her chest. “Lift them as far as you’re comfortable, and put your feet on my chest.”
He leaned forward slightly, balancing against the soles of her feet. Then he reached between their bodies, opened her folds, and entered her in one easy plunge.
“Oh, yes,” she said on an outdrawn breath. “So nice.”
The position created a gentle tension between their bodies. If he put too much pressure on her legs, he could hurt her, so he controlled his thrusts as her body adapted to the position.
Control was good. If he’d been able to plunge deep and hard and fast, he’d have reached orgasm far too soon. Tonight he wanted to give Kat much more than quickie sex.
He used tantric techniques he’d learned, like focusing on deep breathing and trying to direct sexual energy away from his erection so it dispersed throughout his body. It wasn’t exactly a hardship, because his own climax would be all the more powerful in the end.
She gripped his thighs, unable to reach any other part of his body, very much in his control as she gazed up at him wonderingly. “I can feel you so deep. Is this a Kama Sutra position?”
“It’s Pressed Position.” As he moved in and out of her, her feet on his chest, he gripped one of her ankles, helping them both maintain the position, the balance. With his other hand he caressed her leg, enjoying the long line from ankle to knee, the soft back of her thigh, the delicious curve of her buttock.
Such smooth skin, glowing golden in the candlelight. “If your legs or back start to hurt, slide your feet down from my chest.”
“No, I’m—” She gave a soft gasp. “I’m good. Very good.”
He thrust a little harder, but kept the rhythm slow and easy.
She moaned with pleasure and her internal muscles tightened against his shaft, increasing the delicious friction. Her torso shuddered as her breathing quickened. She tossed her head back on the pillow, the lovely column of her neck exposed to his view, the hummingbird earrings resting against her skin.
“You’re beautiful, Kat. Beautiful and sexy.” His own breathing was fast, too, and he deliberately slowed it, struggling to maintain control.
He thrust steadily, hard and deep, stroking to her core, finding the exact right angle to give her the stimulation she needed.
Her body clenched, then burst into waves of orgasm.
He slowed, keeping her riding the waves of climax.
When her body stopped shuddering, one of her legs, then the other, pulled away from his chest. “I can’t…” She panted for air.
“It’s okay.” He eased down to cover her, taking his weight on his forearms, and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Rest. Let me do all the work.”
But it was hardly work to maintain a gentle in-and-out movement, to keep both their bodies humming. It also helped him back off the intensity of his arousal.
After a few minutes, he felt the sexual tension rise in her body again. Her legs came up to hug his sides, and her hips thrust to speed the action.
“Want to Split the Bamboo?” he asked.
She laughed. “Isn’t that what you’re already doing?”
He chuckled. “Not quite.” He raised up on his hands. “Lift one leg up so your calf’s resting on my shoulder.”
Awkwardly, laughing a little, she hoisted her leg and used both hands to position it.
But her giggles stopped as he began to slide in and out. His strokes were angled now, and his dick slid across her clit.
She gave a purr of satisfaction and caressed his leg. “I don’t know how bamboo feels about getting split, but this is working for me.”
It was for him, too. The angle gave him intense stimulation, plus a great view of her lovely flushed face and torso.
He shifted farther forward, weight braced on one hand, and caressed her breast, with its taut rosy areola. Gently, he tweaked her nipple.
And all the time, he stroked into her, varying the timing and angle. Responding to the expressions on her face, the whimpers and moans she made, the way she tilted her hips.
Every time he felt his body build to orgasm, he eased back. Concentrating on deep breathing, he tried to cool down. Then, when it was safe, he speeded up again.
“Your leg okay?” he whispered.
“What leg?” she said breathlessly. “I can’t even…oh, wow, do that again. Yes, there, like that.”
He obliged, stroking deeply on the same angle.
Her head tossed on the pillow, her back arched, then she cried out in another climax.
Her body’s convulsive spasms almost triggered his own orgasm, but he used every ounce of willpower to hold back. He’d intended to get her to switch legs, to put the other one up on his other shoulder, but he couldn’t hold out much longer.
She’d asked for Lotus Position, so that’s what they’d do. Once they both cooled down.
When she’d ridden out the aftershocks, he murmured, “Put your leg down.”
Slowly she lowered it and let it flop to the bed. He eased down until he blanketed her body, his forearms taking most of his weight. His legs lay atop her slightly spread ones and their hips matched. Her eyes were closed and she still panted for air, breasts rising and falling under him, warm breath puffing against his face.
The band that held back his hair had come off, and black curls b
rushed his cheeks as he bent closer to drop a kiss on her soft lips.
He pumped his hips the tiniest bit, thrusting inside her in the most subtle of motions. “Clasping Position,” he murmured against her mouth.
The hand that caressed his shoulder rose higher and twined into his curly hair.
He was too damn close to coming, and all the deep breathing in the world wasn’t going to hold it off much longer. It was time for the final position. “Ready to try Lotus?”
“Mmm. I think my leg muscles have turned to jelly.”
“You’ll be relaxed. Flexible.”
Her eyes opened. “What do I do?”
He slid out of her, regretting the necessity. “Curl your knees up to your chest like you did before. But this time, cross your legs like you were in the yoga Lotus Position.”
She obeyed, treating him to a tantalizing view as her lower body rocked upward. “I can’t cross my legs all the way.”
“Don’t push it. Be comfortable. If your legs get tired or sore, break out of the yoga position and wrap them around my waist.” He kneeled, then slid inside her.
“Ooh, that’s so good,” she said. “I’m so sensitive.”
She wasn’t the only one. He bent forward over her crossed legs, his hands on the bed by her shoulders, trying to make sure his weight was on his knees and hands, not on her legs. “I like this position.” He dipped his head. “I can kiss you.”
“And I can touch you.” Her arms circled his neck under the long curls of hair.
As their lips met, he began to pump into her. He knew they wouldn’t be able to hold the position for long, and he had run out of self-control anyhow. This time, he wanted to come, and he was going to bring her with him.
Each time he withdrew, he pulled out almost all the way. When he plunged in, he did it hard. This position was supposed to hit her G-spot, and her cries of pleasure confirmed it.
She broke the kiss, and her fingernails bit into his upper arms as she clung to him. Her eyes squeezed shut, her face went taut. Her mouth gasped for air, making wordless sounds that urged him on.
“Come on, Kat,” he panted. “Come for me one more time.” He thrust hard and deep, his back tensing, pressure building in the base of his spine.
He pulled out and plunged in again, balls tight, his orgasm unstoppable now.
“Oh!” she cried out. “Oh, yes, Nav!” Her body clenched and spasmed around him, milking him as he exploded inside her with an intensity he’d never felt before.
His name. She’d called his name. Joy flooded through him, as powerful as the climax that had rocked him.
He wanted to wrap her up in his arms, hold her close, and never let her go.
But Kat froze, then struggled to get free. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I did that. Dhiraj. Dhiraj! I didn’t mean to call you Nav.”
He raised himself off her so she could straighten her legs. “Kat, it’s all right, I—”
“It’s not!” She unkinked her body, then swung around to sit on the side of the bed, her back to him. “That’s not our deal.” Her voice was high, tight with tension. “We’re playing strangers on a train.”
“But you know I’m Nav.” He realized that, along with losing the hair band, he’d lost his Dhiraj accent during their lovemaking. “You can use my name.”
“I can’t.” She slid off the bed and bent down to pick up her discarded clothing, still facing away from him. “I need to keep things separate. I can’t think of Nav as…my lover.” She yanked up her skirt and fastened it.
“But you know Dhiraj and Pritam are just roles.” He climbed off the other side of the bed and came around so he could look her in the eyes.
He saw a sheen—tears? fear?—then she yanked her camisole over her head. Even after she smoothed it down, she averted her eyes. “Please put something on. And tie your hair back. And talk like Dhiraj again.”
It was time she faced the truth. The men she’d been making love with were all him. “Do you realize how silly that sounds?”
“I don’t care.” She buried her face in her hands, and when she went on, her voice was muffled. “You started this, showing up on the train on Monday as Pritam. It’s supposed to be a sexy game, and I only agreed because we set rules and you said things wouldn’t change. You said our friendship—my friendship with Nav—wouldn’t change.”
She darted a quick glance at him. “And I can only do that if I…okay, pretend, you’re Dhiraj, and you stay in character. I need the props. The accent and hair band and that fancy jewelry you borrowed.”
“The watch and ring are mine,” he said quietly, not reaching for either his clothing or the damned hair band.
She shook her head. “They’re Dhiraj’s. Put on the costume so I can think of you that way.”
He scrubbed his hands over his forehead and cheeks. Hard. He hated to see the distress in her face, but it was time for a reality check. “Kat, I—”
She put on her jacket and pulled it tight across her chest. “Nav is my friend in Montreal, who lives like a starving artist and is going to have a photography exhibit. Dhiraj is the rich man with the family company, whose photography is just a hobby, who—”
“The company is my family’s.” It was time she knew. By setting up the stranger game, he’d hoped to bring her closer. In some ways he had, but now the Dhiraj role only created distance. She had to know the real Nav, if he had any chance of winning her.
“What?” She gaped at him.
“Bharani International. Textile import/export. Based in New Delhi and London. My dad runs it, along with my uncle. I gave Dhiraj the job my parents raised me to take.”
“You’re…rich?”
He shrugged. “The family’s well off. I have a trust fund, but didn’t touch it when I came to Canada. I wanted to make it on my own and be liked for who I was, not my family’s money.”
She pulled the jacket tighter, arms crossed over her chest. “You never told me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You honestly thought I was the kind of person who’d like you for your money?”
“You do tend to get dazzled by wealthy guys.”
“Nav! Damn it, that’s—Ooh! Okay, now I’m getting pissed off. Has anything you told me, as Nav or as Dhiraj, or bloody Pritam, been the truth?”
“Almost everything. Except the jobs.”
“Yeah, sure. Like I’d believe anything you said now?”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, but she stepped back, shaking them off.
“Kat, I didn’t mean to deceive you. Back in Montreal, neither of us talked much about our families or history. We both had reasons not to. But look at it from my perspective. You were more willing to share yourself with Dhiraj, your made-up lover, than you ever were with me, Nav. Your best friend.”
Troubled chestnut eyes gazed up at him. “Oh, shit.”
A surprised chuckle jolted out of him. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“I have to think.”
“We’ll talk some more, try to sort this out.”
“I can’t. Not now, anyhow. You just confuse me.”
He wasn’t going to apologize. His goal had been to shake her up, to make her look at him differently, and he’d done it. “If you could have anything right now, what would it be?”
Her answer came immediately. “To go back to the way things were.”
Fuck. That was the very last thing he wanted.
She opened the door. “I’m going. Please don’t look for me tomorrow. If I want to see you, I’ll find you. Otherwise…just go home. Let’s take some time. I’ll see you back in Montreal and we’ll figure out where things stand then.”
“What about the wedding? You wanted a date.”
She stepped through the door and didn’t turn to look at him. “Not you. I’d rather go alone than go with you.”
Then she was gone, closing the door firmly behind her.
Pain stabbed through Nav. He sank down on the side of the bed and dropped his face in his hands
.
Chapter 18
After I left Nav’s compartment, I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning on my narrow bunk. Outside, the sky was clear, showcasing the moon and stars. It was beautiful. Romantic. And made me feel desperately lonely.
On my way to my baby sister’s wedding, I’d not only lost my wedding date, I might have lost my best friend.
I’d thought I had known Nav, but now I felt as if I didn’t know him at all.
Or, perhaps, I knew him better.
Even if he’d been speaking as Dhiraj or Pritam, he’d told me things I’d never known. About his family, his past loves.
And I’d opened up more to him than ever before. Partly, it was the train effect, loosening inhibitions. But also, it was the weird combination of him being both a friend I could trust and a stranger who didn’t really exist. To a stranger I’d never see again, I could say anything.
But the person I’d been talking to was Nav, and of course I’d known that. I must, subconsciously, have been looking for an excuse to share more of myself with him. And he hadn’t disappointed me. He’d encouraged, accepted, made me feel more positive about myself.
By the time morning rolled around, I knew I had to see him. No way would I lose our friendship just because I’d foolishly confused the game with reality, had found myself starting to long for a real relationship with a man who was a combination of Nav and Dhiraj.
My mistake, not his. Now, could we get things back on track?
I couldn’t pretend we’d never had sex, and vanity made me hope he couldn’t, either. But we had to put that behind us. After all, once we were home, he’d be dating other women, and I’d…well, of course I’d again be looking for Mr. Right-Forever.
I even had a better understanding of where I’d been going wrong.
That thought might have cheered me up if I wasn’t so distraught over the possibility of losing Nav.
Needing to talk to him in private, I decided to avoid the dining room and wait until breakfast was over. It wasn’t as if I had any appetite.
I took a long shower—and of course remembered every exquisite detail of the one we’d shared. When I applied jasmine lotion, I thought of his hands massaging every inch of me.