A Dance with Indecency (5 page)

“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,” Harry 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?”

The senior McMahon responded with incoherent grumbling while Harry eyed her admiringly.

“Well said,” he said, sitting back and thumping the table. “Well said indeed, Elise.”

Elise flushed at his praise. She turned to him and beamed.

“Why th-thank you, Harry,” she stammered gratefully.

But when she turned to face his parents across the table, she saw the shrewd look in his mother’s eyes.

“You say you studied in New York?” she prodded sweetly.

“I did,” Elise replied.

“Where did you study?”

“Washington Square College,” she answered before she could think better of it.

A triumphant smirk lit the older woman’s face. She looked over to her son.

“Why that’s the same college you graduated from, Harry,” she commented blandly. “Shouldn’t the two of you have met?”

Puzzled, Harry looked over at Elise, who had blanched.

“Oh, I recognize you now,” his father said suddenly. “Your makeup can’t hide it, you know.”

“I don’t know what—”

“You’re right, dear,” his mother said with a saccharine smirk. “We are already acquainted with Madame Rousseau, aren’t we?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, stricken.

“Didn’t you recognize her?” his father said grumpily. “She’s that mousy girl. The stuttering fool who followed you around like a lost, little puppy.”

Elise stood suddenly, her fists balled tightly at her sides. She swung around to face Harry, who was staring at her in bewilderment. His eyes wandered over her face, searching. Recognition slowly filtered into his expression.

“Elise?” he asked, the name meaning so much more than before.

“My, my,” his mother said mockingly. “Haven’t you cleaned up well in the last few years, Elise? We hardly recognized you!”

“It’s you, isn’t it, Elise?” It was Harry again, his voice disbelieving.

Elise couldn’t feel her fingers. Everything seemed numb, and her head was spinning. Her eyes drifted shut. The jig was up. She had been outed, exposed, humiliated. With a sob caught in her throat, Elise turned and fled the room. Blinded by tears, she ran from the mansion and into the garden. Seeking the first refuge she could find, she ducked into the maze garden. But as she flew through the bushy corridors, she became aware of quickly approaching footfalls behind her. She kicked off her heels and tried to outrun him—but Harry was faster. Just as they reached the centre of the maze, he caught her by the upper arm and spun her around.

“Elise,” he said. “Elise!”

“Let me go!” she cried, desperately trying to wriggle from his grasp.

“No,” he growled hoarsely. “Not this time. I won’t let you go again.”

“Please...” Elise begged, tears dripping from her chin. “I just can’t bear it!”

“Look at me,” Harry demanded, cupping her face in his hands. “Elise, I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad you’re back.”

He pulled her close and showered her tear-streaked face with kisses.

“Elise,” he said her name reverently.

Harry captured her lips in a tender kiss, showing her what he couldn’t express with mere words.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered.

After a long kiss that left them both breathless, Harry tugged Elise to the center of the maze where there was a open-air stone rotunda surrounded by rosebushes. They entered into the cool shade of the pavilion. Harry drew her close, planting a row of sweet kisses across her brow.

“I can’t think of a better place to show you how I feel,” he murmured.

At the center of the pavilion was an ornately carved round table and benches. He led her to the table and then gently lifted her up so that she sat on its edge with her legs dangling over the side. He wedged his hips between her thighs and leaned over her.

“I see you’ve not yet taken up the habit of wearing underwear,” he commented slyly as he slid his palm up her leg.

“And I see that you’ve still got a penchant for the outdoors,” she quipped lightly. “I thought I told you that once in a public place is quite enough.”

“This is
hardly
public,” Harry countered. “But would you like me to stop?”

“Of course not,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

Harry grabbed her hips and ground against her core, his mouth muffling her low moan of pleasure. She grabbed his tie, jerking him forward abruptly. With deft movements, she undid the knot and tossed the silk tie away. Then her fingers set to work on the buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, Harry peeled off his coat and pulled off his vest. As Elise began to tear away his shirt, he unbuckled his trousers.

“Aren’t you eager?” she teased.

“So what,” he grunted, as he pulled his throbbing member free.

Her hands closed around the pulsing shaft, sliding leisurely over the velvety skin. Harry groaned. Impatient, he tugged at her dress. He grabbed the straps and pulled so hard that the neckline tore open, golden beads springing free and pinging across the stone table.

“Naughty, naughty,” Elise whispered coyly.

“Just you wait and see how naughty I can be,” he murmured as he let the silky dress fall to the ground in a torn heap around her ankles.

He gently pushed her back so that she lay across the stone table, her dark hair spilling in short, inky waves across the marble surface. He leaned forward and trailed kisses down from neck to her navel, his hands massaging the mounds of her breasts. He nipped lightly at her hip, his hands skimming her thighs. Elise ran her fingers through his hair as he sank lower, his tongue and fingers strumming her into a fevered state. She writhed as he explored her body with his lips, and what he was doing with his fingers made her thighs tighten and tremble.

Then he straightened above her, bracing his palms on the marble surface. He looked down at her, his eyes blazing with passion.

“Elise,” he said huskily.

He seemed to relish saying her name, his lips carefully articulating the syllables.

“Yes?” she asked breathlessly.

“Are you ready, Elise?”

She nodded. And then he sheathed himself in her in one fluid stroke. With a groan he withdrew and then plunged into her again. Elise cried out in pleasure, winding her ankles around his waist. He continued at a feverish pace, and their bodies grew slick with sweat and desire.

All of a sudden, he pulled her from the table and spun her around so that her palms were flat on the table and his chest was a furnace behind her. He grabbed her hips and slowly entered from behind. He began his pace anew, and Elise’s back arched with the sheer electric heat between them. His hands roamed freely over her body, sliding up her hips and waist to cup her breasts, tracing heated trails over her stomach and nudging her slick folds with his fingers.

His rhythm grew frantic. While one hand fisted in her hair, the other dipped between her legs. As he thrust fiercely into her, he carefully stroked and circled her, stoking the flames of her passion to new heights. Her cries grew into a keening wail as he brought her so near the edge, keeping her there teetering on the brink of oblivion. Then, with a press of his thumb and an angled thrust of his hips, he set her nerves alight in a dizzying climax. As she cried out his name, he gave a guttural shout and drove into her with wild abandon, his warmth flooding her core.

They stood, poised against the table’s edge, their limbs trembling with spent desire. Harry wrapped his arms around Elise and pulled her back into his chest. For a moment, they were silent. Elise could feel Harry’s rapid heartbeat thudding against her back. He clung to her, dropping his forehead onto her bare shoulder.

“Elise,” he whispered after he had regained his breath.