by Linda Skye
Harry stood and gently drew his fingers across her porcelain cheek, and she looked up at him with her large, luminescent blue eyes. In the moonlight, she looked so small and fragile—gone was the jaded, irreverent flapper girl with whom he’d wanted to cavort frivolously. No, this was the image of a beautiful, vulnerable young widow—a woman he wanted to shield, to protect, to treat as a most precious treasure.
And she was so familiar! There was something about her that made him feel at ease, something that made him feel that they’d know each other for years—he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Harry wished he could shake the treacherous thoughts from his head. He was supposed to be seducing her...not the other way around!
“Let’s finish our treats,” he said, his smile tight as he walked back to his seat.
As he picked up his mug, he mulled over their situation. He needed money. She had money. And to get her money, he would have to make her need him. Harry gently drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
But who said that he had to hurt her to get what he wanted? Surely he could take her heart and her money...and make her happy at the same time. And why not? They could enjoy each other’s company as long as it pleased them to do so. And when they were done, they could go their separate ways—he would just make sure his debts were paid before he let her go.
Harry nodded once, his decision made. He looked up to find Elise watching him, an aching hunger in her eyes. She seemed even more beautiful with such an unguarded expression. He smiled and fought the urge to lunge across the table and kiss her senseless.
“So,” he said instead. “What do you think of my mini-Paris?”
“It’s the cat’s meow,” she replied with a delicate laugh.
And so began a long conversation that stretched until almost midnight. Harry and Elise traded both playful taunts and serious opinions—each so caught up in their banter that they completely forgot about their ulterior motives. It was only when it finally became so dark that they could hardly see each other in the lamplight that their conversation reached a lull.
Harry stood, brushing the pastry crumbs from his trousers. He held out a hand to Elise.
“Shall we go?”
“Where?”
“On a midnight drive across the bridge,” he answered as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “And perhaps you’ll allow me to show you off at another party.”
“Another petting party?” she asked dubiously.
“No,” he said as they made their way back to the hotel lobby. “This is a much classier event.” He paused to look her up and down. “And you look absolutely perfect.”
As they stepped out of the hotel, Harry waved to the valet. The car rolled up to the curb within a few minutes, and Harry opened the door for Elise. She slid into the luxurious seat with a sassy grin.
“Do you want me to put the top up, Mr. McMahon?” The valet asked politely.
“Don’t bother,” Harry said as he let himself into the driver’s seat. “It’s a perfect night for a topless drive.”
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Elise, who laughed and batted his shoulder playfully.
And then they were off, speeding through the streets with the wind whipping through their hair. As they neared the bridge, the air grew crisper and cleaner, with just the slightest edge of cold. Harry turned onto the bridge. The wide lanes were completely empty, and they sped along alone on the massive structure. Elise titled her head back to feel the rush of cool air on her skin. Her eyes followed the thick steel suspension cables up to the sky.
“Harry!” she exclaimed suddenly, her hand grabbing his elbow. “Stop the car!”
Surprised, Harry veered off to the side. He slowed the car to a stop at the side of the bridge.
“What it is?” he asked, turning concerned eyes to her.
Elise reached upward, pointing.
“Look up,” she said wonderingly. “The stars!”
Stars? he thought. What could be so spectacular about the stars?
Somewhat confounded, Harry looked up. And felt his world shrink. Above them, the heavens stretched out in a midnight canvas, illuminated by bright pinpricks of light. The stars blinked down on them, their brightness clear now that they were free from the lights of the city behind them. It was fantastic.
They both leaned back in their seats, content for a moment to stare up at the wonders above. And then a slight shiver ran through Elise. She turned her head to the side and reached out to cover his hand with hers. He sat up and met her hooded gaze.
“Should we get going—”
“No,” Elise told him quietly. “Let’s stay awhile.”
She inched closer to his side, her fingers walking a path up to his shoulder. Ever so slowly, she leaned closer and closer. Then, with the barest of touches, she pressed her lips to his. Soft, gentle and moist. They kissed slowly, relishing the tang of the night air against their dewy lips. A hot ache built up slowly, spreading outward from her upper thighs. She wriggled closer, taking his face in her small hands. He responded by leaning over to slide one hand over her waist.
Their kiss grew deeper. Elise’s fingers tangled in the hair at his nape as Harry’s hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. She had to twist her thighs against each other to relieve the building pressure. His tongue swept demandingly into her mouth, and she gasped, her breath a puff of white in the dark.
The kiss became fiercer, a desperate tangle of lips, teeth and tongue. Like a hungry cat, Elise growled and climbed over his thighs to straddle him. The hem of her dress rode up her legs, and Harry slid his palms up to her bottom. His palms touched nothing but her sweet skin; Elise certainly seemed to like going without knickers when she was with him. He grinned. As she rocked against his groin, he pressed her core close to his. Panting, she threw her head back and ground against his hot body. Planting a searing line of kisses down her jaw and neck, Harry pulled at the straps of her dress, tugging until the deep V-neckline opened completely to reveal her pert breasts. With one hand firmly cupping her undulating bottom and the other looped around her slim shoulders, Harry lowered his lips to her bosom. He caressed the fleshy mounds with his tongue then took an erect peak into his hot mouth. He coaxed her into a frenzy. She writhed above him, her mouth gaping open in pleasure.
Through a haze of lust, Elise glanced down at Harry. His fingers spread a delicious fire through her veins, and his mouth left trails of wet heat. She was practically naked atop him, a pale goddess of desire in the moonlight.
It’s not fair, she thought suddenly.
With that vague thought, she began to tear open his jacket. Sensing her intent, Harry obliged by shrugging out of his coat and vest. Then, with fumbling fingers, he unbuttoned his shirt. Elise greedily spread her open palms over his broad chest. The smooth skin rippled with muscle, every inch taut. She helped him pull off the shirt and then pressed her bare chest to his. The feeling of her tight nipples against the heat of his chest spiked her desire even further. She began to pull at the buckle of his belt. Elise leaned over him with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Now it’s my turn to give you something you won’t ever forget,” she murmured huskily at his ear.
Harry chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound.
“Minx,” he grunted.
The rest of his words were cut off in a gasp as Elise’s cool fingers found him, throbbing, straining to be pulled free. He hadn’t thought he could get any stiffer—until she began to use her skillful hands. With a sigh, he fell bonelessly back against his seat. She was relentlessly amazing, and he felt pleasure bubbling up so quickly that he was afraid he would burst from the sensation.
With a grunt, he grabbed Elise by the waist and swung her around so that she lay flat on her back against the seat. She blinked up at him in surprise. She took in his flushed face and deep breaths, and her gaze became smug.
“Too fast for you?” she needled.
Harry nudged her thighs apart with his knee as he leaned in
to drag his teeth across her collarbone. Then, he hooked one of her knees over his hip and nudged forward. Elise felt a deliciously warm tingle where they touched, and she gasped underneath him excitedly. With a sly grin, she propped one heeled foot against the dashboard for leverage. Harry braced his forearm against the seat and leaned in so close that his breath mingled with hers. Holding her impassioned gaze with his, he slowly pushed into her. Elise arched back, delighting in the sweet friction. He pulled out slowly, and then pushed back in to the hilt. After an agonizing pause, he pressed his lips to her ear.
“I’ll show you fast,” he growled.
And then he began to thrust in earnest, and Elise had to brace herself against the car door to match his strength. The night air filled with the sounds of their joining: a muffled cry, a desperate groan. Elise gave as good as she got, digging her fingers into the flesh of his back and pressing her teeth into his shoulder. Sweat made their bodies slick and cool in the night air, but the heat between them kept them warm.
They made love under the stars in his car on the Manhattan Bridge, their cries of pleasure escaping into the night. And when she thought she could take no more, an electric thrill began to sing through her veins. The intensity built up to an impossible height. And then, just as he began to quiver inside her, a wave of ecstasy washed over her. They reached a dizzying crescendo, clinging to each other desperately as they rode out the crest of desire together.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, they slowly came back to reality as the climax ebbed away. Slick with sweat, they felt the night breeze for the first time—and shivered. With a giggle, Elise scooted back to pull her dress down. Harry grinned and tossed his jacket over her bare shoulders. She smiled gratefully and watched as he pulled on his shirt and did up the buttons.
“That was...” He paused to stare at her admiringly.
“Beyond belief,” she finished for him with a tender smile.
“Yes,” he agreed, reaching out to pull her close to his side.
He pecked her on the nose and ran his fingers through her disheveled hair.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, affection filling his voice.
“Okay,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.
“Just okay?”
“What do you think?” She laughed, kissing the underside of his jaw.
“What I meant was,” he said, chuckling, “are you too tired to continue with my original plan?”
“Which didn’t include making love?”
“Well,” he answered with a knowing grin. “It did—but after the party.”
“Oh...what party again?”
“The one I’m supposedly hosting at my family’s estate. Dancing and drinking and fireworks—the whole lot! I was planning on showing you off.”
“Oh, I see.” Elise smirked. “So I’ve derailed your plans then.”
“In a most unexpected and, might I add, excellent manner.”
“Well,” Elise said with a sniff, “if you think that I’d be tuckered out after just one tumble, then you’re wrong!”
“How many tumbles does it take?” he asked in mock surprise.
“I’d bet you’d just love to find out,” she said with a wink.
“You’d be absolutely right,” he said with an eager smile. “Shall we try now?”
She slapped his arm.
“Once in the outdoors is quite enough, thank you very much.”
Harry pretended to deflate as he pulled away slightly to put the car in gear. As the engine revved, he looked over at her with a predatory twinkle in his eye.
“Later then,” he promised.
And then they were speeding across the rest of the bridge toward his mansion, ready to dance the night away.
Chapter 6
Elise woke slowly, leisurely blinking her eyes open. She was sprawled out on a massive bed, her naked legs tangled in expensive cotton sheets. Bright rays of sunshine filtered in through heavy drapes, casting bars of light on her nude form.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking around. She was alone.
The night before had been a proper good time. After their intimate liaison on the bridge, Harry had taken her to his family estate. At the centre of sprawling gardens, the McMahon mansion rose intimidatingly, a grand structure of stonework. It had been filled with light and laughter. Nearly a hundred guests cavorted through the marble halls, spilling an unending supply of drink on plush carpets. Elise had danced and danced until she’d had to abandon her heels. When the night was darkest, she’d been awestruck by a display of amazing fireworks.
And then she and Harry had tumbled their way to his rooms, where they had spent the better part of the night exploring each other’s bodies. Her cries of pleasure had echoed off his walls as he’d found novel ways to tease her into a haze of passion she’d never known before. Finally spent and exhausted, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
But she’d woken alone.
Elise stood and wrapped the sheet around her body. She padded from one end of the room to the other, her eyes inspecting every aspect of the room for hints at Harry’s true personality. It seemed he was not the silly, vapid playboy that society gossip made him out to be, she thought to herself as she picked up a well-worn copy of Voltaire’s Philosophical Dictionary. And it seemed he was very fond of his college days—if the smattering of framed photographs were any indication.
She wandered over to a shelf populated by such frames, her eyes warming as she recognized the faces staring at the camera lens. Then she stopped, stupefied. Her hand reached for one frame in particular as she stared blankly at the portrait.
It was a candid photograph of a couple of students. They were a mismatched pair, he strikingly handsome and she somewhat plain—but they were laughing together, caught in a moment of mutual affection.
It was a photograph of her, in a moment of joy that she remembered clearly—taken only days before graduation and heartbreak.
But the fondness in his eyes was evident, even in a black-and-white picture. She traced the lines of his face. Could it be true? Could have loved her back then...as she was before? Elise frowned. She didn’t even know how she felt about him loving her back then and being drawn to the person she was now.
She set the photograph down carefully and headed to the chair where she’d discarded her clothes in the early hours of the morning. She dropped the sheet, letting it pool at her feet. Pulling on her dress, she wondered where Harry had gone.
How could she face him, now that she’d realized the truth?
He must never know, she decided resolutely. It might shatter the dream she was living. Let him keep his regret surrounding her old self; she would permit herself that one small victory. That would be her act of revenge and his punishment.
But now...
“Now, let me enjoy myself,” she said aloud to the empty room.
Yes, and why not indulge? After all, that had been the reason she’d returned to New York in the first place. There was no longer any need to dredge up the past, no mission of hate to accomplish. No, their simple affair was far too enjoyable to be ruined by past ghosts.
With those thoughts in mind, Elise slipped from the room and ventured down the hall. The delicious scent of freshly backed pastries and coffee reached her nose, and she followed the tantalizing aroma.
The sound of raised voices greeted her arrival to the lavishly appointed dining room. At the head of a long, polished dining table stood Harry. But the hard look in his eyes and the angry set to his lips made her stop in her tracks, as if she had walked in on something she shouldn’t have.
He was standing stiffly, his hands on his hips and his expression snarling. An older couple, both of whom were ridiculously decked out in jewels, were wagging angry fingers in his direction.
“How dare you bring that new money trash into this house,” the elder gentleman was saying. “She’s nothing but a money-grubbing whore.”
“You’ve no right to speak of her that way, Father,” Har
ry bit out. “You don’t even know her.”
“We just want what’s best for you, Harry,” his mother said, her voice sugary sweet.
“And how would you know anything about that?” Harry accused angrily. “All you do is spend the money that I make.”
“That’s not the point!” his father began to insist.
Elise decided that this was probably a conversation she didn’t need to hear. She began to edge backward slowly. But after she rounded the corner, she backed into a side table. The table rocked, and a glass vase toppled over. She hissed as the three people in the dining room looked her way. With a sigh, she stepped into view, an oblivious smile painted on her face.
“Good morning, madame et monsieurs,” she said with a gracious smile as she waltzed into the dining room.
Harry swept across the room and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Good morning, my darling,” he said, his smile still slightly strained. “Come have some breakfast. I had some French pastries made especially for you.”
“How sweet of you, Harry,” Elise said as she followed him to the head of the table.
The quartet sat down together, his father grumbling and his mother smiling nervously. After gracefully draping a crisp white napkin over her knees, Elise picked a pastry from the serving platter and set it daintily on her saucer. For a few awkward moments, there was only the clink of cutlery and china as the family and their guest helped themselves to food and drink.
“So,” Harry’s mother began. “We hear you’ve come from Paris, Madame Rousseau.”
“Yes,” Elise replied with a disarming smile, “I arrived just last week.”
“But you’re American, aren’t you?” his father piped up in a gravelly voice.
“Quite right,” she answered. “I was born in New York.”
“In a slum, no doubt,” he muttered just loud enough for all to hear.
“Now see here—” Harry started angrily.
Elise waved him off.
“In fact,” she said, carefully keeping her voice neutral, “I was born in a poor neighborhood. But I studied hard, got a scholarship and a degree and then moved abroad and got money. I’d say I was living the American dream, wouldn’t you?”