Her Foreign Affair (19 page)

In the shadows made deeper by the canopy of gauzy silk panels draped from the massive carved wooden frame of her bed, he found her hands and wrestled them over her head where he held them with one hand. To silence her laughter, he took her mouth, kissing her like a parched man at the fountain of youth, plundering, conquering, his tongue accepting only her surrender. So much for her mirth. Satisfaction filled him as she responded, kissing back and writhing beneath him, soft skin rubbing against him, and more he wanted to explore. Whimpers rose from the back of her throat, but he’d be damned if he’d give in to her carnal demands just yet. He’d waited so very long, needing her more than he needed air, and didn’t want to rush like the youth he’d been.

With his free hand, he touched her, eagerly relearning every surface of her body with his fingertips. He traced the shape of her jaw, the downy softness of her cheek, the long sleek column of her throat down to the delicate structure of her collarbone. Still ticklish, she bucked and moaned as he trailed his fingers over the sensitive skin of her underarm. Ah, that was fun, but he wanted her compliant, not battling, so he moved on to explore the outer curve of her breast. The softest skin he’d touched yet, he lingered, stroking, teasing the flesh, torturing the woman. Communicating how much she liked it with her kiss, she sucked on his tongue as she had his cock. In fact, if he didn’t take care, that very randy part of him would slip right inside her before he had a say in the timing.

He eased the kiss, puffing like a long distance runner, but able to speak. “Do not move your hands,” he ordered. “Move your hands and I’ll stop.”

“Damn you,” she swore without any heat.

“Do you want me to stop now?” He toyed with her skin, delicately stroking the side of her breast, following the rounded base of it, his fingers moving slowly, up and over, down and around.

“No, dammit, don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth you’ve grown.”

“Court,” she said with a growl and tried to lift her pelvis, whether to unseat him or get him better situated, he wasn’t sure, but either way it felt fantastic, her soft, wet, heat erotically cradling him.

Lightheaded, he didn’t fight the instinct to slide over her flesh just once. So perfect. She fit him just right. No one had ever matched as perfectly as she did.

“Hold onto the post if you need to, but if your arms come down, I’ll stop. Understood?”

She groaned, but reached for the thick post as soon as he released her wrists.

“Do you understand? Say it, Randi.” In time, possibly, he could get used to that name. Randy daily. It certainly seemed to fit, and he grinned in the dark at the thought of loving her daily. He could see to it she stayed randy, just for him.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. There. Happy?” She grumped at him, but he knew it was all bluff.

“Oh yes, very happy. Now enjoy the ride.” He shifted so both hands held her breasts, circling, pushing them upward, her nipples like cherries on top of a decadent dessert against his lips.

She wasn’t quite big enough he could hold her nipples side by side, but each breast was a bountiful handful, warm, and the skin so unbelievably soft, and pliable.

“You’re perfect.” He suckled one nipple, then used his teeth to lightly tug when she arched up, seeking more. “I just wish I could see you.”

She stiffened as if ready to push him away. “No!”

“No?” Now she had his curiosity up. “What don’t you want me to see? Hmm?” He suckled the other, equally responsive, nipple into his mouth, and she melted back onto the bed. “Got a racy tat?”

“You’d have to stop too long, and I don’t want you to.”

“I’ll let it go for now, but I will turn on the light sooner or later.” He switched back to the first nipple and smiled at the deep shudder that moved through her.

“Just don’t stop… not now.” The breathy plea fanned the flame inside him.

Loving the suppleness of her breasts, he buried his face between them and inhaled. A few hours of warmth, sleep and arousal had brought out the delicate fragrance his body remembered. She was here, and his, this night, and as much as he wanted to plunge into her and drive them both insane, he wanted to savor. Remember. Rediscover. Draw it out as long as humanly possible. With his goal in mind, he began licking a small trail around her breast. Tiny touches of his tongue left damp dots on her skin like the short white lines on the road. Dashes that spiraled up to the delicious peak where he indulged in suckling until she writhed, arching and pressing her breast up into his mouth. Then he pulled back and blew a gentle breeze over the path, chilling the now cool spots. Writhing changed to a sensuous shiver.

Panting, she twisted, presenting the other breast for the same. Ah yes, the Libra in her. Everything must be balanced. Equal treatment for all parts. He could do that. If anything, he drew out the teasing longer on the second breast, smiling to himself at how she quivered and moaned.

“Dammit, Court. Dig in the drawer, grab a condom, then get up here and take care of me.”

In the process of inching his way down her body, he paused just above her belly button. “You have wellys?”

“Wellys? Aren’t those rubber boots?”

“Rubbers, wellys, johnnys, condoms, all the same. Why do you have them?”

“Girlfriends. Gag gift. I tossed them in the drawer.” She tried to sit up, but he held her down. Not that he had to exert any force to do it, one hand on her stomach sufficed.

“Are they any good?” How good could gag condoms be? Why did she have them if pregnancy wasn’t the concern?

“Kimono? Crown? Trojan? Take your pick. The point being, just pick one and put it on… fast!”

“Easy, love, we have time—”

“Have you waited two years for an orgasm?” She all but growled at him, her head lifted, the better to aim a glare at him in the dim light.

He chuckled at her desperation. Although it seemed a lifetime for him. A lifetime since he’d had her.

“Then take your time the next time.”

Ah, the next time. Of course there’d be one. And one after that, and another… He continued his journey down her body, enjoying her smooth skin where he nipped the curve of her waist, before finding the neatly trimmed bed of curls a most delightful contrast. “Just enjoy, love. I’ll see you get your reward for patience.”

The protest that started as a growl ended as a mewl when he teased the tender folds guarding her center. She wailed his name at the touch of his tongue delving between those soft, sweet folds already coated with heavenly honey. His Randi. This taste slammed straight into his heart and soul. This nectar he’d sipped before was a soothing balm that filled him with the desire to love her as long as possible.

With his thumbs, he stroked her skin and eased her open, exposing the delicate lining he could feel pulsing around his tongue. So hot, so wet, the special tang that was all hers worked like an elixir from the fountain of youth, taking him back to younger days when they’d burned like supernovas. All heat and hurry. Too hot to slow down and draw it out. Quantity over quality. Had she not learned the reverse with her husband? Had she continued to burn so bright she’d burned him out? Had the man never tied her up and drawn out the pleasure?

If this bed were made for anything, it was sex play. The thick posters were strong enough he could tie her spread eagled on the bed and teach her how to anticipate and savor. How to explode and come back, awake and eager for more. Until, of course, she grew too tired for more.

He drove his tongue deep inside and stroked her smooth walls, noting how firm she was and the strength with which she gripped him. That was just his tongue. Suddenly, her urgency seized him. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her to his mouth. Was she close enough? Nuzzling her, he dragged his tongue up her sweet flesh until he found her clit. Sparing time for only one swirl of the tongue around her tiny button, he gently suckled. One, two…three… she stilled, her cry cut off as she paused, breathless for two heartbeats, then cried out as she came, shaking and bucking against his mouth. The soft wail was far too restrained for the girl he remembered, but he had no time to ponder it now. He needed to be in her.

While she shook and thrashed, nails digging into the wood of the post she still held, he pushed away just long enough to pull open the bedside drawer and wrap his fingers around a square packet. In record time, the empty wrapper was flung aside and the ultra-thin condom rolled on.

“Court,” she gasped.

“I’m here, love. I’m here.”

“Now, Court, now,” she begged.

When a lady asked so prettily, who was he to deny her? Profound relief, peace, and soul searing heat collided under his skin. She still fit him like a glove, her quaking muscles taking him in, gripping him as the next orgasm took her. Oh Lord, he’d be lucky to last two thrusts. The memory was too strong, the reality too real, the sensation better than he recalled. She had him in a tight grip, soft and firm at the same time. Slick and hot, she filled his senses as he filled her body. Randi opened her eyes, and in the dark room, they glimmered as she reached for him, gasping his name.

“Now, Court, now,” she whimpered and pulled him down into her embrace.

Now, it was. Ever her devoted worshiper, he let himself go and tasted heaven.

Soft, gray, pre-dawn light filled the room while Randi stretched beneath her silky sheets. Pure indulgence, the light-as-air, four hundred thread-count bedding had been purchased as a treat to remind herself what it felt like to be touched sensuously. Inhaling deeply, she drew in the scent of man and lovemaking.

Court. Her eyes flew open to find him watching her. How long had he been staring and why did her body instantly flood with need for him? After so many years, in less than twelve hours he’d made his way back into her bed, the very essence of him once more under her skin. Her naked skin, under the same covers as his naked skin. His leg touching hers.

“Good morning,” he said softly and bent to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.” She combed her fingers through her hair, noting his looked only slightly mussed.

The grin he gave her sent her pulse galloping. “Don’t look at me like that, or we’ll never get out of this bed.” His tone teased, but his eyes promised.

She smiled. “And this would be a bad thing, how?”

“It would be highly detrimental to the economy of both our countries.”

“Oh?”

The tip of his index finger stroked down the side of her face, sending tendrils of sensual fire along her nerve endings.

“If I don’t take care of business, and the company flounders, it would put many people on the dole. And I’m not only talking about my employees. The ripple effect would be astounding as my suppliers rely on me to keep ordering their products. The drop in demand for their products would continue on down to craftsmen and growers all looking for markets. Why, if my company were to disappear tomorrow, it could cause panic in many markets around the globe.”

Randi laughed at the look of mock horror upon his face. “So, you’re saying that I, a lone, simple, plain woman, have the power to destroy the world economy just by keeping you here in my bed?”

“Surely you are the same Randi Jean Dailey—and I do love your full name—who attended the world famous London School of Economics? You, amazing, beautiful woman that you are, last I heard, were working on a degree which would put you right in the middle of financial analysis, so surely you understand the implications?” One long finger traced her eyebrow.

The smile dropped off her face. “I am. However, I didn’t finish my degree in quite the way I planned.”

“Ah, the baby. Birdie. Tell me what happened?” Concern in his eyes kept her from shrugging him off.

“As I mentioned earlier, it took an extra year, but I finished my degree. From then on I’ve worked part time for Dad, from home, like I do now.”

“So you were able to be home for her?”

“Yes. All in all, it worked out well. We were able to buy this house about the time she turned five, and here I’ve been ever since.”

“It seems like a fine place to raise children.”

“It is.” Enough small talk. Next he’d be asking about Wyatt, and she didn’t want to go there. Not in this bed. “So, you’re not entirely on vacation?”

“You Yanks may have had a holiday yesterday”—he tapped her chin—“but my world kept right on rolling. I’m already hours late checking in with my secretary. But before I do, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.” She gathered the sheet up under her arms, though it was hardly worth the effort considering the tissue thin quality of the fabric. She needed the comforter to provide any level of concealment, although she didn’t think Court would allow it. He already eyed the sheet as if he wanted to pull it away.

“I have a business meeting next week I simply cannot put off. However, I may be able to move the meeting to New York. If I were able to get the other party to agree, would you go with me? Christmas shopping in New York is said to be incredible.”

Surprised, she blinked and stared up at him. “After one night together you want to extend it?” Never had she imagined anything beyond today, much less including travel.

“Indefinitely.” He grinned down at her. “I want to hear all the details you flew right over a few minutes ago. I want to see your face light up in ecstasy over and over again. I want to watch you sleep and try to decipher all the little things you mutter. I want to hold you, wine and dine you in style, even to the point I’ll accompany you while shopping. I want to spoil you and just breathe in the experience of being with you. Please?”

Flabbergasted, she threw an arm over her face. “Wow. Court, sheesh, I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about today, much less next week. We haven’t talked about your plans for the weekend, and yet you want me to pack a bag and run off to New York with you?” So not in her plans. He wanted to resume the relationship she’d decided to keep in the over and done with column. Okay, okay, so she’d nudged it into the occasional fling column. Self honesty was highly over-rated.