“I know.”
“And the other bargain? It’s finished? I get to put my hands on you, my mouth, anytime I want?”
“Yes. I lasted almost two whole days,” she said, laughing, feeling a bit wicked and incredibly free. She wondered if she could wait until tonight, wondered if he would make her wait and just how awkward it might be.
“I know it’s a mistake, but I don’t think that’s going to be enough to stop me. Not tonight,” he said, as his mouth finally settled over hers. She parted her lips, eagerly, greedily, letting him inside. Loving the slow, sweet thrust of his tongue inside her mouth, the answering thrust of his hips against hers, the heat and the need and the anticipation.
He took her so far, so fast, she was dizzy from it. Almost in an instant, her whole body was one big, empty ache. She wanted his hands everywhere, wanted them on her bare skin, wanted his sinfully soft lips and his wicked tongue, and she wanted to see him. All of him. As much as she feared she would be embarrassed to have him staring at her in full light, she knew she wanted to see him, just that way. She wanted to indulge him, as well. Spoil him. He could teach her how. He could teach her everything.
She kissed him back greedily, mimicking the movement he made with his tongue, surprised to find that somehow in the midst of this, long steamy kiss, his hands had been busy. Her dress was unzipped, and if she hadn’t been holding it up with one hand, it would have fallen at least to her waist by now. He had his hands on her bare back, sliding down to cup her bottom, his hands so smooth and hot, her skin so cool, so sensitive.
She shivered, and he buried his face against the side of her neck, his mouth weaving a sensual trail to the top of her shoulder, the skin more sensitive than she would have believed possible. She gasped, shuddered and clung to him. His hands were still busy, pushing down the bodice of her dress, sliding beneath it to cup her breasts, one in each hand.
“Josh,” she protested, the need intensifying to a burning sensation, deep in her belly. She could feel her nipples puckered up against his palms. His mouth was still doing wicked things to her neck, but she could imagine now what his mouth would feel like on her breasts.
He brushed the pad of his thumbs across her nipples, teasing them. It sent a jolt of sensation straight through her, a mysterious line that seemed to be running from that point on her neck where his mouth was busy, to her breasts, to that aching, empty spot between her legs. She’d never been so conscious of her own body, of the urgency to have a man’s body on top of hers, inside of hers. She shuddered yet again, felt an answering ripple of awareness shoot through him.
He swore softly. “We’ll stop. I don’t want to rush you. Not the first time.”
“Okay,” she said, though honestly she would have let him do anything to her, absolutely anything.
“In a minute,” he muttered, arching her against him, the dress falling free.
He drank in the sight of her with his eyes, and she fought the urge to grab at the fallen bodice of her shimmering dress, to cover herself. Instead, she stood there in front of him, her breasts feeling swollen and aching for more of his touch. She couldn’t quite believe she was standing here in his office half-undressed. She’d grown absolutely shameless in the course of a day with him.
“This is crazy,” he said, touching her again, his fingertips tracing the contour of her mouth, her breasts.
“I know,” she said. “I like it.”
He laughed. “Me, too.”
And then she got her wish. She watched as his golden head filled her vision, as he nuzzled his nose against her collarbone, then put his mouth over the delicate bone, taking a leisurely path to the spot she was dying to have him touch. She put her hands on his head and pulled his mouth to her breast, gasped when she felt him take her nipple inside his mouth and tease at it with his tongue, drawing it deep into his mouth. She clutched at his hair, holding her to him. She wriggled her hips against his and moaned. It felt so good. So impossibly good.
“Josh,” she said urgently.
“Maybe slow isn’t such a good idea. Sometimes fast is good. Very, very good. We can go slow next time,” he said, lifting his head, pulling her to him and proceeding to kiss her senseless. “The office is practically empty, and the door has a lock. I’m not sure I could make it back to my apartment, anyway.” He stared down at her again in what could only be described as awe. “You’re beautiful, Amanda. You’re soft and warm and so responsive. I knew it would be like this. Just like this.”
Before she knew it, he had his hands on her bottom. He’d locked the door. The dress was around her ankles, and his hands were inside her panties, tugging them down. She was half sitting, half lying on the love seat in his office, and he was kneeling on the floor, his mouth on her breasts, his hands so busy, so quick, arousing her until her body absolutely ached and then moving on, finding another sensitive area and doing the same thing to it. She was getting just a bit nervous.
“Am I the only one who’s going to be naked here?”
“No,” he promised. “I plan on joining you. In just a minute. But first—”
His mouth fell to her rib cage, to the vicinity of her belly button.
“Oh,” she said, sensation piling on top of sensation, that unnerving rushing feeling coming over her. Her whole life was rushing forward.
His wicked mouth was on her thigh. He was nibbling at the skin along her thigh, pushing her legs apart, and she couldn’t help but be a bit embarrassed at the position in which she found herself.
Her body was wet, and that embarrassed her, too. It seemed so wanton, so eager, to think of him touching her there for the first time and finding her so very wet. And whatever he was doing to her with his mouth was making her feel odd. She couldn’t be still. She had her hand in his hair, urging him on, and at the same time, she feared where they were going and what she was going to do, feared that loss of control, that rushing, hurtling-through-time-and-space feeling.
“Josh,” she said urgently.
“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”
“Know what?” she said, needing to understand and needing some reassurance at the moment.
“How you feel,” he said.
His mouth was dangerously close to that embarrassingly damp place on her body. He bit gently on the delicate skin on the inside of her thigh. She pushed her legs together, pushing him away. He laughed, his mouth coming back to hers, his body moving over hers, the hard, reassuring weight of him settling over her.
“You’re shy,” he said. Not as a complaint. As if she’d surprised him, but not unpleasantly.
“I can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” he said, his hand slipping between their bodies. “I want to kiss you. Here…”
His hand was there before she knew it. She gasped.
“You like it when I touch you?” he said, weaving that spell again with his voice and the play of his hands.
“Yes.”
“When I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be just like that. Only better.” She hesitated, tensed. “But I can wait. We can do that another time, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Yes,” she said, thinking she could get over being uncomfortable and embarrassed and shy. She could get over anything with him.
He stroked her with his fingers, delightfully skillful, wicked fingers. She forgot to be embarrassed, forgot to be quiet. She gasped again, the sound absurdly loud in the quiet room, when he took two fingers and rubbed at the opening of her body.
“Oh, that’s nice. That’s so nice, Amanda. You want me, too. I like the way your body tells me that, the way you show me.”
And she forgot to be embarrassed about that, too. She forgot about everything except the heat and the need. The whole world had gone speeding out of control, careering forward, and she wasn’t sure where they were going, didn’t care, as long as he took her there.
His finger slid inside that tight, slick opening. She wriggled away at first,
at the unfamiliar sensation. But then he was stroking her again, in and out. Her body was damp and swollen down there, where his fingers were so busy. And then she clung to him, her nails digging into his arms and shoulders, her hips picking up the rhythm that he’d set, moving against him.
“Josh, please.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You first.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” he said, his hand moving faster, stroking, demanding. “Just like this.”
The way she responded to him left no room to hold back, to resist. He urged her up and over that invisible barrier. She saw it coming, right at the very end, went hurtling over the edge, into a dark, mysterious void where there was nothing but him and a pleasure so intense she cried out again. He took her mouth in a searing, demanding kiss. Her whole body convulsed around his in rhythmic waves. It went on and on and on, and he kept kissing her, stroking, laughing a bit there at the end.
She was gasping for breath by the time it was over. They were curled up on the love seat together in his office, the lights still blazing. She didn’t have on a stitch, and he was fully clothed with his hand still stroking lazily between her legs. Her body was utterly relaxed, spent, her limbs trembling, her heart pounding, the sensations still overwhelming. She couldn’t quite believe it had happened right here. That he’d pulled off her clothes and in minutes had her naked and literally screaming in his office at ten o’clock on a Wednesday evening. Not that she minded in the least. She was just surprised.
“It was so good,” she said. “Thank you.”
He put a hand on her chin, urging her mouth up to his, kissing her deeply, lingering over her mouth. She could feel the smile across his lips, heard him laugh.
“You’re so polite. Even in bed. Or I assume you will be, if I ever make it to a bed with you.”
She would have asked if that was a bad thing, a foolish thing, being polite. She would have asked if he’d rather finish this in a bed. Any bed. Anytime. Preferably very, very soon. But his mouth came down to hers one more time. She became aware of the insistent pressure of his arousal against her hips and shuddered at the idea of him being inside of her when she went over the edge the next time. She wanted to know if it was like that for him, that out-of-control edginess, the empty, aching need. She wanted to know if he felt every bit as greedy as she did. If she’d pleased him. She wanted to give him the same pleasure he’d given her.
“Tell me what to do,” she said. “Tell me what you want.”
“Everything,” he said, a hard, exciting edge to his voice. “I want us to do everything.”
“Me, too,” she agreed, just like that, ready for anything he wanted. “I can’t believe I waited this long, but now I’m glad that I did. I’m glad I waited for you. I can’t imagine being here like this with anyone but you.”
Chapter 10
Josh knew he wasn’t thinking too clearly, but it sounded a lot like she said, I’m glad I waited for you. He lifted his mouth from hers. “What?”
“You,” she said, heat bringing a pretty blush to her cheeks. “I’m glad I waited. For you.”
He blinked down at her, having trouble thinking straight. “What do you mean, you waited?”
She pulled away from him a little. He forgot for a minute that she wasn’t wearing anything, forgot that he intended to be inside of her by now, even forgot that constant throbbing in his groin.
“You know I’ve never done this before,” she said.
“What?” He was starting to sound like a damned parrot who only spoke one word. And he wondered if his hearing was going at the ripe old age of thirty.
“Josh, you know that. I was interrogated for three days after Rob died, and you were there the whole time. Lucky me, I got to tell a bunch of total strangers and you that I was a virgin.”
“No,” he insisted. “No way.”
“It’s not something I’m likely to forget,” she said.
Which he couldn’t argue. She was the one most likely to know about her own sexual history. “But—”
It was one of the oddest moments of his life. Like that morning in the coffee shop when he realized Rudy saw him with Amanda and was going to make something of it. It was a like the first time he’d kissed her and known…known he was in serious trouble. Or the time after Rob died, when he realized he hadn’t been with another woman in months because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, because he didn’t want anyone but her. For a while, after all of those moments, nothing in the world made sense. Now it was happening all over again.
“You knew,” she said. “You heard me say it.”
He had, of course. He hadn’t left her alone the entire time she was questioned. He remembered someone asking her how often she spent the night at Rob Jansen’s apartment and how often he stayed with her at the house they’d just bought together. Which had led to an awkward exchange in which she claimed neither of those things had happened, followed by an even more awkward and detailed question with Amanda answering, in a voice that dared anyone to challenge her, that she’d never had sex with her fiancé or anyone else.
“I thought you were lying,” he said. “I thought it was the only thing you lied about the whole time.”
Amanda stared at him for a moment, then scrambled off his lap and got all flustered when she realized she didn’t have any clothes on. He took off his suit coat, wrapped her up in it and sat her back down, beside him this time, not on his lap. He tried not to look at her, her hair all mussed, finally free of that damned knot she twisted it into every day, her cheeks flushed, her skin…all of that bare skin. Damn.
“I don’t lie,” she said. “Not about anything.”
Josh sat there with his mouth hanging open, not sure how he’d possibly gone from having an incredible, mind-altering sexual encounter with her one minute to having this impossible-to-believe conversation the next. He normally handled women so well. He made a habit of being very careful with them.
“I thought,” he said slowly, deliberately, “that you were simply refusing to discuss that part of your life with anyone.”
“You thought I lied?” she repeated.
“Oh, hell, I admired you for standing up to them. I didn’t think it was any of their business, and I certainly didn’t want to sit there and listen to little details about your sex life with Rob.”
“We didn’t have a sex life. We never had sex.”
“That’s crazy. How can you be engaged to a man and not have sex with him?”
“How can you have sex with perfect strangers, Josh? With every woman you meet.”
“I don’t have sex with every woman I meet,” he insisted.
“Okay. Fine. I don’t have sex at all. Or, I didn’t. Not until now.”
“We didn’t actually have sex,” he said, needing to be clear on that. “And we’re not going to.”
It was for the best, he told himself. It would have been better if he’d known maybe thirty minutes ago. Two weeks ago. Two years ago. But if this was all the warning he got, he would take it.
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
She stared up at him, clutching the ends of his coat around her. Her smooth, soft thighs visible beneath the bottom of the it. Josh willed himself to look away, to forget what almost happened, to simply put it out of his mind.
He could do that. He had to.
“The fact that I’ve never had sex with anyone before means that much to you?”
“Obviously it’s very important to you, or you wouldn’t have waited this long.” He scratched his head, still hardly able to believe it. “How in the world did you wait this long?”
“I don’t know. I just did.” She colored profusely. “It’s not that unusual, is it? I mean, it’s not like I’m the only virgin on the planet.”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever met,” he said.
She crossed her arms in front of her, no longer worrying about the coat. It gaped open in the middle, givi
ng him a distracting view of the inside curve of her breasts. She had truly luscious breasts. Creamy, satiny-soft skin and— Josh groaned, jerking his head to the right so he couldn’t see her. Someday soon he would forget the way she felt in his arms, the way she tasted, the satisfied little sounds she made. He’d forget it all.
“Josh, you’re being ridiculous. Do you take a sexual history on all your women before hopping into bed with them?”
“No.”
“You think you have some right to pass judgment on their sex lives before they met you?”
“No.” She was twisting everything around.
“So why would it be any different with me?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I swore I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“Emotionally, right? Because physically, I really don’t expect it to be that difficult—”
“Amanda.”
“You’re yelling,” she said.
“I never yell,” he insisted, doing just that. Damn. “I’m sorry. All right? I’m rattled.”
“I noticed.”
“And I never get rattled.”
“I didn’t think you did.”
“Except when you’re around,” he complained, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Neither can I, and I really want to understand. If I were to go out and find some man—any man—to relieve me of my virginity, and meet you back at your apartment in an hour or so, we could pick up where we left off?”
“Don’t even joke about that,” he growled.
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s not going to happen. Not with me.” He groaned. “Wait for someone you love, Amanda. For a man you’ll marry.”
“I was going to marry Rob. But he didn’t love me, and he didn’t really want to marry me. He just used me. Are you telling me you wish I’d slept with him—a liar and a traitor—first? That I would have been better off with him?”
Cinderella and the Spy Page 14