by Penny Wylder
The way her body felt twisting under me, the soft little sounds she made, and the way she tasted when I…
I shake myself. If I go too far down this mental path, I’ll never stick to the aforementioned plan. “Soon,” I promise her. “But tonight, I had something special in mind.”
She tilts her head, still keeping that curious little half-smile on her face. “Oh? What’s that?”
I cross my arms. “I’d like to meet my brother and sister for dinner. Introduce you to the family.”
“Oh.” Her face falls again, the same way it did in the elevator. But it’s only for a split second. A moment later, she forces another smile, bright and cheerful, at least on the surface. “Of course. That would be great. I mean, I guess that is what we came here to do, right?”
I frown, studying her. “Are you sure? You seem worried.”
She bites her lower lip. The girl has no poker face whatsoever. “It just…” She glances down, then up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at me. “It seems a little soon, doesn’t it? To do the whole meeting the family thing.”
I can feel myself nodding slowly. “It is, all told, yes. But they’re going to love you, Melanie.”
She snorts. “Doubtful.” She spreads her hands wide, gesturing at the apartment around us. “I feel like…” She shakes her head and points through the nearest open doorway, toward the dining room with its massive glass chandelier—a Chihuly original, naturally. “I feel like a piece of dirt stuck on that expensive chandelier. You know? I don’t fit here, Xander.”
And now I understand. Now I see what her real hesitation is. Without a pause, without thinking about it, I step toward her, and reach my arms out. I think she’ll back away, but to my surprise, she moves toward me, and lets me wrap my arms around her. She sinks into me, the same way she did on the plane when turbulence hit.
Just the feel of her in my arms, her soft skin under my fingertips and the scent of her hair, the shampoo she uses sticking in my senses, makes me tense. The blood starts to flow south, and it’s all I can do not to lose myself to distraction—to her—all over again.
“You’re perfect, Melanie.” Her body shakes with laughter against me, but I push her back just far enough so that she can see me shake my head. “I mean it.” I dip down to kiss her, soft and slow, and I savor the taste of her lips on mine. “You’re so genuine. Your excitement is contagious. My family will love that.” I smile, and this time, she answers it with a smile of her own. A weak one, but I’ll take it. “They’re going to love you,” I repeat, and this time, at least, she doesn’t deny it.
“What the hell am I going to wear?” she asks instead, her gaze drifting around the kitchen. “If it’s somewhere as fancy as this apartment, which I’m just guessing it will be, I doubt anything I brought will be nice enough.”
I smile and release her—if I don’t do that soon, I know I’m not going to be able to anytime soon—and I step back to the far side of the kitchen, reaching for the coffee pot. “What do you like to wear?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Dresses I guess?”
“Then we’ll go find some dresses.” I flash her a smile.
Her cheeks flush. “But—”
I hold up a hand to stave off any protests she might have. “Like you said, we are going somewhere fancy, yes. Which means I’ll be providing my future wife with whatever she needs to feel comfortable in that situation. If it’s an expensive dress, then let’s go find you an expensive dress.”
“What if I can’t find one I like?” she asks, shifting on her feet.
“Then we’ll keep looking until we find one you do.” I grin at her. “Fifth Avenue is just a few blocks away, and they have just about every store imaginable. We won’t stop hunting until we find the perfect outfit for you. I promise.”
Her throat works with a tight swallow. I think she’s going to protest again, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nods. “Okay.”
If I thought bringing Melanie home and watching her experience my apartment building was fun, it’s nothing compared to watching her shop. She stops before every window along Fifth Avenue to gawk, her eyes wide and round as saucers. But I have to practically drag her into the stores themselves, since she keeps balking, worrying they’re too nice for her.
But eventually, by the fifth store, she relaxes and starts to enjoy the process.
As we weave through the racks, me holding bags for her, and her pulling new items off the shelves and racks, we talk about the city itself. “So you grew up here?” she asks.
“I did.”
“In this same penthouse?”
I laugh at the mental image of my parents trying to keep this penthouse as neat as it is now with me as a kid running through it. I wasn’t exactly the neatest child. Or the best behaved. “No. We lived in a brownstone on the Upper West Side. I moved into the penthouse a few years ago, after I became the CFO of my current company.”
She holds up a long black dress, turning it this way and that as she considers it. Then she fires me a flirtatious glance. “So did you spend most of your time in fancy stores like this, Mr. Spoiled?” She winks.
But I frown, my thoughts drifting to the place where I actually spent most of my childhood. It was nothing like any of these stores. Sometimes it feels like another life, a whole different world from the one I inhabit now. I miss it. I’d do anything to get a piece of it back.
But that’s impossible. Unless this crazy plan pays off…
“Xander?” Melanie’s voice draws me back to the present, makes me blink and shake my head to call my mind back to the present. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I force a smile, all too aware that I sound just like Melanie earlier, pretending not to be nervous about the pending meet-the-siblings. “Just thinking about my younger years. I wasn’t quite as bad a spender back then.” I nod at the store around us, chuckling. “But I’ve more than made up for it ever since college.”
“I see.” She smirks. “So you bring all your hot dates here, is that it?”
“Only the ones I really want to see all dressed up.” I step closer to her, and her head tilts back as she keeps her gaze on mine.
“That so?” She arches an eyebrow. “Well, if you’ll enjoy seeing me so dressed up, then do you have any ideas which gown I should try? Because I’ve been through about twenty already, and I’m still not sure if any of them work…”
She’s looked amazing in everything she’s worn. Hell, she looks incredible right now, in the same jean skirt and baggy T-shirt she wore on our flight. But to humor her, I tilt my head and consider the room around us. “What about that one?” I nod toward a mannequin, dressed in the kind of outfit that I know would go over perfectly at the dinner spot I have in mind for us tonight.
She turns slowly, her eyes widening as she realizes which one I mean. “You really think I can pull that off?”
“If you can’t, nobody can,” I respond, grinning down at her.
She holds my gaze for a moment, responding to the challenge. And slowly, her smile spreads in answer. “Okay, twist my arm. I’ll try it.” She walks toward the rack as I wave at the nearest sales associate to assist us. “But if it looks terrible, I’m blaming you,” she adds over her shoulder.
“If it looks fantastic, do I get all the credit?” I fire back, and she laughs as she trails off after the sales associate. I follow her toward the dressing area, my earlier bout of sorrow forgotten.
If all goes well tonight—and in the couple of weeks that follow—I won’t ever have to mourn what I’m missing again. I’ll regain my past and then some.
I pick a chair near the fitting rooms and wait, not without a touch of impatience. My mind can’t help wandering toward images of what Melanie looks like right now. How she’d be shimmying out of that jean skirt and pulling her tee shirt over her head. The curves that would be revealed inch by inch. And how badly I want to run my hands over her body. How much I want to be in that dressing room with her, able to take full adva
ntage of her gorgeous, sexy body.
Fuck the gown. She looks the best without a stitch of clothing on her body at all.
My cock throbs at the memory of earlier, of our flight here, and soon I have to cross my legs to hide the growing desire I feel. I clear my throat, force my mind toward other thoughts. Any distraction I can come up with. I shift my gaze to the far side of the store and watch a screaming toddler and her exasperated father. I clench my teeth and fists, until my blood flow finally regularizes.
God, the next two weeks are going to be torture, if she does this to me every time we’re together. Then again, she also did this to me for the whole week we were apart, too. Maybe nowhere will be safe anymore.
Maybe she’s ruined me.
If so, I can’t deny that I’m enjoying the feeling.
Someone clears their throat. I turn, and my pulse leaps back to high speed at a single glance. Melanie has emerged from the dressing room. And fucking hell.
I knew the tight, glittering gown, with its plunging neckline and a cut that hugs her hips before it flares out around her knees, would look good on her. But I had no idea how good. I didn’t realize she’d look so fucking delectable that it makes me want to grab her and drag her back into that dressing room, pull the curtains behind us, and bar the door from interruption for the next hour.
“How does it look?” Melanie asks, her voice low and throaty, her eyes soft. Almost shy.
I have to clear my throat, hard, before I can even respond. “I think you found the winner.” My voice comes out tight, too. Almost a growl.
The corner of her mouth quirks into a half smile. She turns so I can get the full effect, and glances at me over her shoulder. Fuck. The view from here is even more enticing, since the dress hugs and accentuates her curves the whole way down. It makes me want to stand up, pull her against me, bend her over in front of me and…
“You really like it?” she repeats.
“Trust me. The only problem is going to be how I’ll stand to let you keep it on all the way through dinner,” I respond, my voice low enough that only she’ll be able to hear me. Still, her cheeks flare bright red, and her smile widens as she laughs faintly.
“Maybe I should just wear a bag to this dinner instead,” she jokes, grinning. “To be on the safe side.”
“Oh no.” I stand, though with difficulty—the sight of her in that gown isn’t exactly doing me any favors when it comes to resisting my baser urges right now. “There’s no room for discussion. I’m buying you that gown.”
She laughs aloud now, a real laugh, one that reaches her eyes. “Fine,” she says, one hand on her hip. God, the way her body cocks to one side practically kills me where I stand. “But only if you promise me we’ll have some time alone after this dinner, too.” Her eyes find mine. Flare hot. “I like the way you’re looking at me now.”
Fuck it. I glance over my shoulder. The rest of the store is empty. The salesperson who was helping Melanie earlier has, rather presciently, vanished into thin air. And the dressing rooms are empty.
“I’m not waiting until after dinner,” I tell her. I reach out to grab her hand, and before she can utter a word of protest, I drag her with me back into the empty dressing room.
8
Xander
There’s no way I can wait any longer to get my hands on this woman. It was torture enough back at the house, trying to keep my head straight. Now, though, seeing her in this dress…
“I take it you like the look,” Melanie murmurs with a faint grin, reaching up to hook her arms around my neck as I bend to kiss my way along her jawline to the spot where her jaw meets her throat, just below her ear.
“You have no idea,” I whisper, my breath hot against the soft skin of her neck, making her shiver beneath my hands. I walk her slowly backward, until her back is pressed up against the wall of the cubicle. The dressing room might be narrow, but we’re getting practiced at narrow spaces. There’s still a lot more space here than we had in the airplane.
And even if there weren’t, there’s no way I can resist this woman for much longer.
I drop to my knees in front of her. She gasps softly, and I grin up at her, until she clamps a hand over her mouth, her eyes fixed on the curtain behind me, the only thing separating us from the rest of this very public, very expensive store. I wink. “Think you can keep yourself quiet?” I whisper, and she actually bites the fingertip she’s got covering her mouth, now.
God, this woman. She’s going to be the undoing of me.
I tug at the hem of the dress. It’s tight around her hips, but not so tight that I can’t slide my hands up her beautiful, curvy legs, tracing the soft, smooth, warm skin all the way up until her dress is bunched around her waist. When I hook my fingers under her panties—a fresh, adorable pair I haven’t seen before, clearly going for more of a covered look than the thong last time, I glance up at her with a smirk.
Then I tug them down.
She swallows a gasp, shivering against the wall, as I lean in to press my lips to her hips, one after the next, slow and hot. I let my tongue trail along the creases where her hips meet her upper thighs. I reach back with both hands to grip that firm, pert ass of hers, the one I love so much, and I draw her hips toward me, off the wall.
Her eyes go wide when they meet mine. “Xander…”
“Ah, ah. Quiet, Mel.” I wink again, and her cheeks flare red hot. But she doesn’t protest again, too nervous about us getting caught, I’m sure. I part her thighs with one hand and trail my tongue along the supple muscles of her upper thighs. Tasting her, savoring her smooth, velvety softness. Finally, I let my tongue wander higher, until it traces along the top of her mound. She’s freshly shaven, and when I bend to dip my tongue between her thighs, running it over the outer folds of her pussy lips, she quivers again.
I can feel the stubble on my cheeks brush against her sensitive inner thighs. Her hands find the back of my head and her fingers lace through my hair, clenching tight. I tighten my hold on her ass with both hands, to brace against her, hold her in place. Already, I can feel her upper body leaning back against the wall, her shoulders going weak. I just hope her knees aren’t next. I’ve barely even started.
Then again. I grin against her, my mouth pressed over her pussy as my tongue delves into her slit. Getting caught like this wouldn’t be the worst thing. It would certainly mark Melanie to the world as mine. And frankly, I’m sure an extra large tip to the right store managers would be all that was needed to ease any concerns they had about our activities in here.
Besides, there’s something hot about the thought. About having anyone else out there see what I’m doing to Melanie, see how she’s reacting to me, and knowing that this woman belongs to me.
Whether or not it’s temporary. Whether or not it’s all for show, a business arrangement… that doesn’t matter. Right here, right now? I want her. And I have her.
I curl my tongue and press it inside her entrance, slowly, an inch at a time. She groans, then bites her lip. I keep my gaze fixed upward, on her face, studying her every reaction as I draw my tongue out, press it back in again.
God, I could watch her face all damn day. Especially when she looks like this, her eyes half-hooded with desire, her mouth tightly clamped over the moans I’m sure she wishes she could let loose.
With a wicked smile, I start to lick her harder, faster. I flatten my tongue and lap along her slit, the blade of it crossing her clit again and again, until her hips buck up off the wall of their own accord. Soon she’s rocking against me, her breath coming hard and fast, her hands so tightly clasped in my hair that it’s a wonder she’s able to keep herself upright. I bury my face between her thighs, savoring the taste of her pussy, the hot, sweet juices that drip over my tongue, trace down my chin.
I pull back just far enough to grin at her. She gasps in protests, her eyes going wide, trying to drag my face back toward her pussy. But I grip her hips, stop her from moving.
“God, I love how fucking wet
you get for me, dirty girl,” I whisper. She shivers, a full-body motion, and then I’m licking her again, harder this time, faster. Before long, she’s trembling on the edge of orgasm, and I moan with my lips clamped tight around her pussy, so she can feel the vibration through every inch of her body.
She lets go of my hair with one hand, reaches up to bite down on her finger as she comes with a faint whimper, her whole body shaking. Her knees go weak, but I catch her before she can fall, bracing her hips back against the wall, holding her there.
I lean back and let her dress fall back into place as her breathing slows and she slowly gets her trembling legs back under control. But I don’t stand back up. Not yet.
Instead, I reach into my back pocket. I slide out the little box I procured earlier, while Melanie was distracted with the first few racks of dresses we perused. After we’d paid a quick visit through the jewelry department, and I’d noticed what caught her eye again and again, even though she’d tried to pretend it hadn’t.
With my eyes fixed on hers, I pop the lid to the ring box and hold it up.
Her lips part with shock. “Is that…?”
“You liked this one, didn’t you?” I ask. I hold out a palm, reaching for her left hand.
But she hesitates. Bites her lower lip again, in a move that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know kills me every time. “But…” Her gaze travels over the ring nestled in the little blue bed of the box. It’s an oversize princess cut diamond, surrounded by smaller sapphires to either side and along the white gold band. It’s beautiful. Watching her notice it, and seeing how she kept glancing back at it, unable to resist, told me she had good taste. It took a good eye, an artist’s eye, to pick this out of the ring case, among so many others.
But once she did, I noticed how unique it was. I realized it was perfect. Just like her.