“Another woman who didn’t like to lie to herself?”
“Exactly.” Gemma took the last sip of her martini.
He watched the exposed line of her neck and his mouth ran dry. In that one moment he knew why she was in the sights of a few of the most influential senators on the Eastern seaboard. Beautiful and brilliant. Since they’d been talking, she’d quoted Austen, Shakespeare, cracked a Herman Melville joke and managed to be up on the latest troop movements and where gun legislation stood in the Senate. Only one thought raged through him—what the exposed pulse of her throat tasted like.
“She is the most boring hooker on the planet,” Renner said into his ear. “But damn the girl can drink.”
His partner’s voice dulled any exciting thoughts running through David’s brain. But he wasn’t wrong. They’d been there for nearly two hours, just talking. No mention of moving the meeting upstairs, no insinuating code word about a transaction. The intel said that she’d be wearing a peacock necklace, and she was. The intel said that she was here to meet a new client, and he’d shown up.
He offered to order another drink and she took him up on it with a coy smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. The thought of taking her soft earlobe between his teeth dominated his brain and he forced himself to turn toward the bartender to put in the order.
David caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar.
Renner’s voice boomed in his ear again. “This is more boring than watching face recognition software. You can’t even get a hooker to sleep with you.”
Maybe he had failed some sort of interview. He was a new client. Maybe there was something about him that she didn’t like.
He frowned. He was paying. What wouldn’t she like about that?
“You need to step it up, Agent. We’ve got one chance to get this right before Samson jumps on our asses. She’s obviously digging the dork vibe, now jump in and follow my lead.”
Usually he would have followed Renner’s lead. He was the one who knew about people, how to lie as if it were breathing. But he didn’t know this girl.
According to the intel, the peacock girls were a new ring. Maybe part of the service was the chase, the dance. A reimagining of the courtesans of the old European courts.
Fine, if it was the chase that these men were paying for, he was up for it. Tonight he was as articulate and charming as Renner. Especially with Gemma. He’d never talked to another woman who tore him in two like she did. One moment he wanted to slide his hands up her leg and the next he wanted to get her opinion on the recent increase in niche market literature.
He was going to finish this. He was going to get the girl. And he was going to get her his way.
David licked his lips as the bartender returned with their drinks. He turned back to Gemma and set hers down on the napkin between them.
“Have you ever been to England?” he asked.
“That would require flying, which until recently, would never have happened.”
He smiled and focused on her. He put all the other things out of his head and, when she glanced away, plucked the earpiece from his ear. “What happened?”
Chapter Three
When he smiled, it was a wide, goofy grin that he obviously tried to hide. “I’m sorry.” He dropped his chin and looked away, probably for the first time this evening.
“No, please. Laugh at my expense. Took three years to overcome that debacle at the airport.” She finished off what she thought was the third martini and set it on the bar where it vanished.
He looked back up at her and her heart pounded. She’d been staring into his light-hazel eyes for what seemed like hours now. Even after sharing stories of failed dating, failed flying and literary feats, her heart still raced and the adrenaline still coursed through her.
“So you don’t travel often?”
“I get around for work, but mostly by car now.”
He looked at her for a solid moment and her entire body tingled as if his fingertips were studying her as thoroughly as his gaze, pattering down her neck, across her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
Gemma crossed her legs and the lace of her underwear tightened across her throbbing mound. She’d never been this excited by talking to someone. Reading about a fictional character, sure, but never with an actual man.
“We should probably let this bartender have his seats back.”
She hadn’t thought that her entire body could frown, but it did. The sizzle vanished as if a wet blanket had been put over her shoulders. Her evening over, she slid her clutch off the bar. “What time is it anyway?”
He looked at his expensive watch. “Nearly ten.”
Crap, the time had flown. Where was Annie? “I was supposed to meet someone here at eight.”
David smiled. “Technically, you did.”
She matched his easy smile and the thought of a lost Annie floated away as her eyes drew along his perfect upper lip. Would he taste like the beer he’d been nursing? Would he taste like something darker? Sweeter?
“Should we take this someplace quieter?”
Her brain went in five directions at once, leaving a void between her ears. What exactly was happening? Had she actually just met a guy in a bar who now wanted to take things upstairs?
Only when he offered his hand did she know it was actually happening. What startled her more was the confident way that she slid her hand into his. She wanted this, was ready for this.
“Would love to,” she answered.
She slid off the stool and had to let the world right itself. The heels mixed with the three glasses of vodka in her system didn’t make for the best balancing act.
David rested his hand at the base of her spine to stabilize her. Her breath caught in her throat because she’d already imagined his thumb, not the clasp of her garter, softly sliding against the top of her ass during their conversation.
His breath slipped down her neck. “I was thinking maybe dessert. Something chocolate.”
“Sounds lovely.”
He guided her toward the restaurant on the first floor, but they only got halfway there. Quickly he circled his hand around her wrist and pulled her to a dark corner. Behind the heavy drapery hiding the service corridor, he leaned her against the wall with his long frame. The heat of him beat around her and infected her brain with the smell of sandalwood.
As he studied her for a moment, her lips began to pulse, wanting to be pressed against his. Her head began to spin as her blood warmed every inch of her skin.
He slid his hand up her side, running it smoothly over the outside of her breast and held her jaw. When he finally pressed his lips against hers, her entire body melted between him and the wall. She slipped her hand inside his suit and was met with lean, hard muscle. Gemma let her fingertips coast upward and rest on his chest, skimming over the rise of his pectorals. Even through the fog of liquor and lust, she could feel his heart pounding under her fingertips, feel the heat beneath her palms rise.
Gemma had never done anything like this before. The part of her brain that usually pulled her away from having some sort of fun was rooting her on with the rest of the neurons like a drunken cheerleader. She tilted her head to deepen the embrace and curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him closer. He moaned as she slid her tongue over his. He tasted like a sweet cider and she slowly drank him in, burning that taste into her brain.
He curled his fingers around her sides and their embrace turned fierce. He explored her mouth deeper, took control of the kiss, grazing her lower lip with his teeth then suckling the shock away. He pressed her against the wall and grew hard against her hip.
His sudden need, this tension that ran through him was like nothing she’d ever seen, or felt before. Every neuron vibrated with excitement and started a steady pulse between her thighs.
He was the one who pulled away, his lips pink and cheeks flushed. His hazel eyes were wide with passion and flicked to every part of her face before his lips turned
up into a small smile.
“Was that okay?”
“Yes,” Gemma breathed. Could it be that, under his polished veneer, she’d found someone even more insecure than herself?
“Do you want to—”
“Your room or mine?”
Gemma’s heart fluttered in her throat when he touched her elbow to guide her out of the elevator and when he smiled down at her as he opened the door to the room with her key.
There was no sign of Annie yet, but the moment Gemma watched him close the door, all thoughts of her missing girlfriend disappeared.
She couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. Correction—she couldn’t believe that she was actually getting the chance to do this. Gemma rarely had the opportunity to misbehave and she was starting to believe that she liked it.
She guided them into the room. Even with him behind her, she could feel his heat as it worked its way down her body.
Gemma set her clutch on the foyer table. She was about to ask if he wanted another drink, but when she turned toward him, David grabbed her waist and pressed her against the door. His mouth landed on hers. As much as the heat and sweetness of his tongue was intoxicating, it didn’t prevent the angular door handle from digging into her back. Gemma unsuccessfully fought a wince.
Determined not to stop his advances, she took a small step to her right and slid off the handle. They hit the door with a loud bounce and the new position of their bodies revealed just how dedicated he was to this adventure. The old adage was completely right. Big hands did mean a bigger package. And this package strained against his tight pants.
Imagining the potential in his pants made her moisten. She flushed at how willing her body was to be his, to be under him. She hadn’t even looked at a man like this in five months, but here, now, with him, she wanted to be around him, tasting more than just his mouth.
He pulled away from her, his lips swollen from their embrace.
“Bedroom.” She pointed to the French doors.
One arm already around her waist, he easily swept her off her feet. She laughed, but held on tight. No one had ever done that particular maneuver before. “Are you showing off?”
“Maybe a little.”
He gently set her down at the foot of the bed. “Now where exactly were we?”
She ran her hands underneath his jacket, up his chest and over his shoulders to find a wall of muscle. He let the coat fall to the floor and in two swift movements had his shoes off as well.
He kissed her again, this time slowly, taking his time. He held her waist—it had never felt so small before. Gemma took a moment to explore. She pulled at his shirt, needing to see if his skin was as hot as the heat through his shirt, wondering if it would be pale or velvety soft.
She finally found skin above his waistline. She ran her thumb along his hip line. It was velvet soft, as she had hoped.
David pulled away with a small chuckle. “Watch it. Ticklish.”
Gemma smiled. “Good to know.”
“Can I unzip you?”
She turned around and swept her hair over one shoulder.
His breath cascaded down her neck and her nipples ached against her bra, the lace rubbing roughly against her sensitive buds. It was painful and she wanted him to soothe them with his tongue.
Finally the zipper relinquished itself under David’s hands and she had to physically fight the sigh of relief that followed.
He pushed the dress down with his warm hands and off her hips. She stepped out of the satin puddle and turned to look up at him.
His lips parted as he looked at her. Gemma had never been so confident, so sure about anything in her entire life as his eyes slipped down her body.
She watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Garter belt?” he whispered.
She looked down at the lace holding up her thigh-high stockings. “It’s a girl thing.”
His voice dropped three octaves and turned to thick gravel. “It is most definitely a guy thing.”
He reached out to take her waist again.
“I’m feeling a little exposed here.”
He looked down at his shirt. “Oh.” In two seconds, the shirt was over his head. It was possibly the best two seconds of her life so far. The stretch caused every muscle in his torso to ripple and contract and she swore that she would do anything to find out if a person could actually wash laundry on someone’s stomach. When he tossed the shirt to the other side of the room, his long arms flexed and she got a gorgeous side of forearm.
It was torture, pure and utter torture, because now all she could think about was running her hands along his abs and her tongue around his perfectly pink nipples.
“Please let me take off your shoes.” It was an actual request, and the longing in his voice made her knees weak. She’d forgotten that there was a strap on the high heels, more decorative that functional. She’d never really had to think about someone else taking them off.
She turned toward the end of the bed and took a step, but her heel caught on the edge of his shoe and she stumbled forward onto the mattress. Gemma landed on her side, but thanks to the satiny comforter, was able to slide into a seated position rather quickly.
David bit his lower lip. “Sorry about that.”
“Better make up for it.”
And he did.
He nudged the clothing out of the way with his toe then slowly knelt before her. She had to curl her fists into the bedding to keep her hands from stroking his perfect shoulders, that exquisite neck. Let him have his fun first.
He took her foot as if it were made of glass and carefully unbuckled one shoe. The play of his fingertips against her ankles ran icy chills up her legs and electrified the throbbing between her thighs.
He gently pulled off the platform heel of her left foot then turned his very determined attention to the right. The feel of his thumb against the hollow just behind her ankle sent a chill of pleasure into her core and a gasp escaped her lips.
“Ankles. Good to know.”
She blushed, not that there could be more heat rushing through her. Everything throbbed, demanding to be touched. He seriously needed to get on with this. It had been so long she really didn’t need this much foreplay.
Once the other shoe was removed, he ran his large hands up her stocking-clad legs and nestled his hips between her knees. He leaned forward and kissed her again.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to touch her, stroke her and as if he had read her mind, he ran his hand up to the lace barrier. His thumb gently brushed against the already wet lace. He found a rhythm and circled firmly until she grew even wetter in anticipation.
She plunged her tongue into his mouth, hoping that it would inspire him to do the same. She ached to have him inside her.
When he pulled his finger back, she pulled away from his mouth. She couldn’t wait anymore.
“My belt or yours?” she asked.
“Ladies first.”
He slid his fingers up to the edge of the shimmering material on her thigh and easily flipped open the clasp. She took the liberty of unhooking the belt itself and slid it off the edge of the bed.
David rolled the silk down her legs and made a very deliberate play at her feet. He lifted her ankle to his lips and Gemma lay back on the bed and let the pleasure of his undulating tongue course over her.
And that was just at the ankle. He slowly worked his way up her leg, small kisses and sucking ones. Gemma didn’t know what was happening. Every neuron pulsed slowly, matching the burning brush of his lips against her skin. She could feel the beating in her chest, in her lips, as she closed her eyes and relaxed into the steady throb. With each kiss on her right leg, his hand squeezed, caressed her left leg until both pursuits met very distinctly at her aching mound, begging to be touched as well.
A brush of his thumb over the lace barrier drew a small gasp.
He pulled away, leaving her cold. She forced her eyelids open to see him rid himself of his pants.
&
nbsp; David climbed up beside her and curled an arm under her to slide her up on the bed.
When his lips landed on hers, she was the one who wanted more. She laced her fingers through his gorgeous hair and thrust her tongue against his, her body against his. She wasn’t going to let him pull away again. He met her with equal enthusiasm.
He pulled her bra away and his lips followed, first at her neck and then over her shoulder and down to her painfully erect nipple.
After he freed her from the tight black lace, his mouth closed over the pert tip and one suckle drew a cry of relief. It soothed the hours of teasing, of rubbing against the rough lace. His tongue drew a full circle around the tip and she arched against him.
As he gently pulled and circled, he released the clasp of the strap and pulled the damn thing down one arm. With one glace, he shifted sides to pull the black lace off completely and toss it across the room. He immediately went in to a study of her other breast, his fingers dabbling down her side. He nipped then soothed the bite with a swirl of his brilliantly hot tongue.
Torn, she longed to taste him again, but she wasn’t about to draw his attention away from his current task. The long line of his pale neck was before her and she curled up to place a delicate kiss just behind his ear.
That one little kiss was like pressing the fast-forward button. His entire frame tightened and his muscles rippled across his broad shoulders.
The gentle dabbling at her side ceased and he immediately went for her underwear. He didn’t take any time pulling it down her legs.
Gemma couldn’t wait any longer. She pushed his briefs down his hips and he spilled over the tight elastic and into her hand. A wave of complete excitement ran through her. Her womb clenched knowing the complete way he would fill her, stretch her.
He kicked off the remaining clothing between them and took one long look at her beneath him. “God, you’re beautiful.”
She felt it. Sexy and sinful and wicked in ways that she could have never dreamed of before. More confident naked with this man than she had ever felt in her life. And by god did she want to share it with him.
Pride and Prostitution Page 2