By Private Invitation (18 page)

“Granddad bought the property when I was in my second year
at college. He didn’t want to travel as much as we had when I was growing up, and
he finally decided to open the shop he’d been talking about for years. After I graduated
from college, I came home to help run it. I’ve been here ever since.”

“You don’t miss traveling?”

She gave an indecisive shrug. “I still do when I need to. What I enjoy is finding
treasure in someone’s dusty attic. Tracking down the perfect piece for a client. I
enjoy the hunt.”

“Gets your blood flowing, does it?”

Her lips curled in a seductive smile, the look in her eyes smoldering. “I find it
stimulating, yes.”

Holy hell, his skin felt too tight for his body and his cock throbbed with desire.
“What else do you find stimulating?

Her eyebrows gave a little shrug. “You.”

The burn in his blood turned into a full-blown forest fire. “Then come here and let
me stimulate you.”

Instead, she leaned back against the arm of the couch and stretched her legs toward
him. “Are sex and business all you think about?”

“Not just sex. Pleasure. There’s a difference. Sometimes there’s not much pleasure
in sex. Sometimes sex is strictly business. But pleasure encompasses a whole spectrum
of activities, not just sex.”

“Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“You’ve seen the Salon. I personally chose every piece of furniture, every fabric,
every piece of art and accessory. We didn’t stay long enough for you to get the entire
Salon experience.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what would that have entailed?”

“Sexual freedom. Whatever fantasy you could have dreamed up, I could have made come
true.”

“You didn’t exactly give me that option.”

“No, I was uncharacteristically selfish that night.” And he
wasn’t about to sit here and analyze his reasons for that now. “But I’m willing to
make that up to you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Absolutely. Tell me what you fantasize about, Belle.”

Her smile faded as her gaze sharpened. “Is it all just fantasy with you?”

“No, it’s about the pleasure. Fantasy is just a way to attain pleasure.”

“And what do you fantasize about?”

“Right now, my fantasies involve you and whipped cream.”

She laughed as he’d intended because he’d sensed her thoughts shifting away from the
moment. “And if I told you I actually have a can in my fridge…”

“I’d say take off your clothes, sweetheart.”

She drew in a deep breath, as if he’d shocked her. Or like he had reached between
her legs and stroked her.

“And what if I want you to do the same?”

Now, that was an interesting question.

He was usually the one in control, the conductor, as such. He planned the games, and
sometimes he even paired the players.

His life was all about control, professionally and personally. He knew exactly why
he needed it. Made no excuses for it.

None of his friends and lovers thought any less of him for it. Hell, they expected
it. He was the son of Glen and Helena Golden, the product of blue-blood old-money
Philadelphia. He’d been born with the silver spoon in his mouth and a fortune in his
bank account.

“I’d say I think we can work something out.”

Her head tilted to the side, as if trying to get a different angle on him. “Do other
women let you get away with this much control?”

Yes, actually, they did.
“They know I’ll deliver.”

He let her think about that for a few seconds, watched her bite on that full bottom
lip as she contemplated.

Then she sighed. “I live in a small town, Jared. People gossip. I don’t want to be
the subject of that.”

The thought slid through his brain that maybe she’d had enough gossip earlier in her
life. He was still considering putting Dane on the trail of that mystery. But that
didn’t have anything to do with now. “You’re young and unmarried, Annabelle. Why shouldn’t
you be free to have a sex life?”

She didn’t say anything in response to that but he saw her expression firm, as if
she’d come to a decision.

Her chin tilted up. “I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve got a business to run.”
She held up a hand as he opened his mouth. “Just hear me out. I want you. I can’t
deny that and I don’t want to. The heat between us is something I’ve never experienced.
So yes, I want to explore that. But I also don’t want a sexual relationship to interfere
with business.”

“You won’t have to worry about that. I’m capable of keeping the two separate.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Good to know. I want you to strip.”

The command in her tone made his balls tighten with lust, his stomach clench in need.

He’d never let another woman control his arousal before. But there was something about
this woman, something that made him want to relinquish the tight hold he had on his
own desire. Something he’d never wanted to do for anyone else.

He reached for the top button on his shirt, and her gaze dropped to watch his hands
as he slipped the tiny discs through their holes. He didn’t rush but he didn’t make
a strip tease out of it either.

Just before he reached his waist, he pulled the tails out of his
pants and released the last button. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, he tossed
it at the nearest chair.

Then he let his gaze drop deliberately to her sweater.

Taking the hint, she reached for the hem of her top, pulling it free of her waistband,
and exposing an inch of creamy flesh. His lungs tightened as she wiggled just the
tiniest bit and revealed her slightly rounded stomach.

By the time she’d uncovered the black lace demi-bra cupped so lovingly around her
breasts, his chest ached with the effort to draw in air. His gaze fastened onto those
firm mounds, practically salivating at the slight jiggle as she pulled the sweater
over her head. Her beautiful red curls bounced over her shoulders and spilled down
to caress her curves.

Beneath the bra, her hard nipples peaked, nearly poking through the lace, tangible
evidence of her desire.

He lifted his gaze back to hers and watched her eyebrows lift.

“Your T-shirt, too,” she said.

With one hand, he reached behind him and pulled the white cotton over his head, dropping
it on the floor.

Her gaze swept with blazing heat across his chest, searing him as if she’d reached
out and touched him. He took a breath, trying to tamp down a little bit of his raging
desire, just so he didn’t go caveman on her and start ripping away her clothes.

But just the thought made him hotter still.

“Now your skirt.”

She smiled as she reached for the zipper at her side. He heard each tiny tooth release
with a metallic snick, every one causing his heart to trip heavier in his chest.

She had to lean back and lift her bottom off the cushion to get the skirt over her
hips, wriggling a little and making his body temperature shoot up another ten degrees.
When she got the skirt past her
hips, his gaze locked onto her black garter belt and black lace panties.

Damn, he loved a woman who wore garters. They reminded him of the erotic art they
both collected. Such a sensualist’s touch. He wondered if she wore them all the time
or if she’d deliberately worn them for him?

He wanted her to have worn them just for him.

By the time she’d drawn the skirt down her legs and let it fall to the floor, his
hands had curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to reach for her, wanted to pull
her over him so he could let his hands roam all over those soft curves.

Instead, he let his gaze trace the lacy straps that connected to the silky stockings
then back up to the string bikini panties lying low on her hips. Beneath the lace,
he saw the faint outline of the soft triangle of hair on her mound, knowing what he
couldn’t see was bare skin. His fingers remembered how soft she’d been between her
legs, how silky.

“I want you to keep those garters and stockings on tonight, sweetheart.”

“I think I can handle that. But you’re not finished yet. Take them off, Jared.”

He had to stop himself from tearing off his pants and reaching for her. Instead, he
released his belt and the button on the waistband, then drew down the zipper. Her
gaze had dropped to watch his hands and his cock throbbed as he pushed the pants down
his legs, slipping off his shoes and socks and letting them fall in a pile by the
couch.

“I absolutely love a man in boxer briefs.” Her sexy voice reached out and stroked
his libido, making his balls tighten and his cock throb.

Good to know but he was about two seconds away from ripping them off his body. The
tip of his cock had already escaped the waistband of his briefs. The shaft felt like
heated iron.

Reaching for some of his legendary control, he leaned back into the couch. “Why don’t
you come here and take them off me?”

Annabelle had never in her life seen anything as sexy as Jared Golden reclining on
her couch in only his boxer briefs.

He should have been a Calvin Klein underwear model. He certainly had the body for
it—broad shoulders and muscular chest, washboard abs, slim hips and powerful thighs.
A swimmer’s body.

When did the man find time to work out? And why did she care when he was spread out
like a banquet just for her?

She wanted to climb onto him, feel every hot, hard inch of the man pressed against
her. She wanted to let her hands roam over the sleek muscles of his biceps, then brush
her fingers through the light covering of dark blond hair on his chest before sliding
down to stroke along his abdomen until she reached the waistband of his boxer briefs.

His cock poked above the elastic, the ruddy red tip practically begging her to touch
it. Or taste it.

She felt a momentary flash of hesitation as the little voice of reason in her brain
started to nag.

This isn’t you, Annabelle. What are you doing? You’re not sexy, even if you are wearing
fuck-me garters and stockings and a see-through bra.

She’d chosen her undergarments specifically for Jared. And because they made her feel
sexy. They gave her a boost of confidence she sorely needed.

And the look on Jared’s face when he’d seen them had made
her want to stretch out in front of him and tease the hell out of him.

“Belle?”

She lifted her gaze from his groin to his face slowly, letting her desire for him
blaze in her eyes. His expression tightened and a muscle in his jaw flexed. He looked
so very sexy.

He swallowed, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. That mouth did wicked things to her
body. Things she really liked.

Swinging her legs under her, she rose on her knees and put her hands low on his thighs,
kneading her fingers into the taut muscles like a cat with a blanket. His gaze held
hers as she moved her hands higher until she could slip her fingertips beneath his
boxers. Curling her fingers, she let her nails scrape against his skin, making his
muscles clench and bunch beneath her.

“I know somewhere else you can use those nails, sweetheart.”

His voice rumbled, a sexy growl that made her sex clench with need and her blood thicken
and heat.

“Come on, Belle. Take them off.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone, Mr. Golden.”

“Then I’ll try again.” He leaned forward until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.
“Please take my shorts off so you can wrap your hands around my cock.”

Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his boxers, but she didn’t tug them down.
“That sounds like another command.”

“Do you want me to beg?”

Hell, yes.
Her smile must have given him his answer because he leaned closer until his warm
breath washed against her ear. “Please take them off, baby. Please. I’m dying for
your touch.”

She tugged on the material, slowly so she didn’t hurt him, watching as every hard
inch of him was uncovered. He leaned back and lifted his ass slightly so she could
pull off the boxers,
dropping them on the floor and moving until she knelt between his legs.

His cock reared up toward his stomach, and her mouth dried at his beauty. Perfectly
straight, thick, and elegant, his balls drawn up tight against his body.

And so silky hot. She curled one hand around him, letting his heat soak into her skin
as her other hand cupped his sac. She let her index finger straighten and scratched
her nail lightly on his perineum.

He drew in a short breath, his cock throbbing in her hand, as she started a slow pump
of his shaft. His gaze refused to release her as she caressed his cock.

He let her have her way for a few minutes before he reached for her. He brushed the
mound of her breast then wound one red strand around his finger and tugged just enough
to let her know what he wanted.

When she didn’t comply, he moved, startling a gasp out of her as he sat forward, grabbed
her around the waist, and shifted them until he sat on the couch the right way and
she stood in front of him.

His mouth level with her breasts, she tensed with anticipation of his lips on her
nipples. Instead he hooked his thumbs in the sides of her underwear and started to
drag them off her hips.

Her stomach clenched as he watched the slow reveal of her mound and the wet flesh
between her legs. This close, he had to be able to smell her desire. Hell, she could
smell it and her need flared higher.

“So damn pretty.” He let her panties fall to the floor and his hands reached behind
to cup her ass, kneading them with strong fingers. She couldn’t contain her moan and
reached for his shoulders to steady herself when her knees wanted to buckle.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured, the sound a caress against her clit.

“Jared.”

His hands smoothed down her ass to her thighs, stroking all the way to her knees before
making the return trip. When he slipped one hand between her legs and teased her lips,
she clenched her thighs to keep his hand there.