Hot in the City (3 page)

He didn’t take his eyes from hers as he slid his fingers up under her tank top, lifting it up over her head. Then he removed her bra and gazed at her breasts with raw hunger in his eyes.

“Gorgeous,” he said roughly and took the glass of wine again, now wetting his fingers with the Riesling and tracing the wet, cold wine around one nipple, making her whimper. He licked it off and then he did the same to her other breast.

“Oh, yes,” she panted, tightening her thighs on his.

“More?”

“Please.”

He repeated the process until Della was so close to the edge of orgasm that she could only brace herself on his shoulders and focus on all of the sensations, but it wasn’t quite enough.

Until he put the wine down, and while still kissing her breasts he began to gently rub the heel of his hand between her legs.

Seconds later, she was crying out in a voice that didn’t sound like herself at all, the quick rush of satisfaction both offering some relief, but also making her hungrier.

Gabe pulled back, his eyes bright, his jaw taut with arousal. Looking down, Della saw more evidence of that, and smiled, pride surging through her.

She’d done that. To a man like Gabe.

What else could she do?

She drew her tongue along the strong cords of his neck and let one hand slip down to investigate that prominent evidence of his own excitement.

He growled, or groaned, a purely masculine expression of desire as she touched him, pressing her fingers over him through the fabric of his slacks. He turned his head, taking her mouth in a hot kiss that threw fuel on the fire inside of her. This time, touching wouldn’t be enough.

“You need to get those pants off.” Her voice sounded strange to her, breathless and urgent, saying those words so boldly.

“I agree,” Gabe said as she moved off of him, finding her knees slightly shaky as she stood in the middle of her apartment. It was surreal, watching him undress. He peeled off his clothes without preamble or self-consciousness, throwing them on the plush floral rug, and his shirt landed over a chair across from her. Taking her cue from him, Della peeled off her skirt and panties, and then they were both standing there naked in her living room.

It went far beyond any fantasy she’d had on the plane, or, well, ever. This moment with Gabe, looking at his strong, lean form, the impressive erection that jutted out from his thighs and the intensity in his face as he studied her—it was a memory meant for a lifetime.

He closed the distance between them in two easy steps, pulling her up close, flush against him. She was more than a foot shorter than him, so her face cradled against his pectorals, his shaft at her waist. She turned her head, rubbing her skin against the light sprinkling of hair, and darted her tongue out to taste him.

“Della,” he said, his tone a mix of protest and a need so thick in his voice that he didn’t sound quite the same, either. “Wait,” he said, letting her go so he could retrieve an item from his wallet, quickly covering himself. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, watching and absorbing every erotic detail.

She raised her eyes to his and he smiled.

“There are other things I want to do to you, lovely Della, so many things. But for now, I think we both need this,” he whispered as he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. “I fantasized about you like this, being inside of you, all of that time on the plane,” he added as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

“Really?” she squeaked as he put his hands on her backside, holding her in place.

“Really.”

The way he was holding her, she felt him, the thick weight of him against her inner thigh, then prodding against her entrance.

“Okay?”

“Oh yes,” she said softly against his ear, then nipped the lobe.

Her arms tightened around his neck as he pressed slowly inside, letting her take him bit by bit. Her forehead fell to his shoulder as he filled her. The delightful pressure drew a sigh from her as she closed her eyes, trying to feel it all. The sensation was overwhelming, and she wanted to simply bask in it, until he spoke, his voice rough.

“Kiss me, Della.”

She fluttered light touches over his mouth with hers, and then settled in, slower, deeper. Sucking his tongue between her lips, she enjoyed his taste. He started moving, bracing her in his hands as he thrust lightly. She moaned, her head falling back.

“Keep kissing me, don’t stop.”

Della wasn’t sure she could do it, the increasing friction and pace of his thrusts blanking her mind and taking her higher, but she did keep kissing him.

She framed his face with her hands, drawing back from the kisses as pleasure spiked. She couldn’t do anything but look in his eyes as her entire body was taken over, the pleasure rippling through every nerve ending, leaving her helpless to do anything but ride it out.

Seconds later, he took her mouth in a wet, hot kiss and groaned so deeply that she could feel the vibrations of the sound all through her. Her arms latched around him as he gave in to his own release, and miraculously triggered another intense, quick climax for her, too.

As his movements slowed, only their ragged breathing and gasps filled the space. Della was still holding on, though they were both slick with sweat, their bodies still clinging, still connected.

“Oh my,” she breathed against his skin, unsure she could stand on her own if he let her go.

He knew, and took her to the sofa, setting her down slowly, and then he sat, too, pulling her alongside him, cuddled against his chest.

“You are...incredible.”

“Me? I just hung on. You were the incredible one,” she said, smiling against his side.

“It’s like I told you on the plane. We’re great together. I had a feeling we would be. I’m glad we had the chance to find out.”

Della paused, her mind clearing somewhat.

“That sounds like a goodbye,” she said.

He tipped her chin up with his fingers, looking down at her. “Not yet. The night is young, and like I said, there are a lot of things I want to do to you, Della.”

Happiness surged and she bit her lip, flirting up at him from beneath her lashes.

“There are a few things I’d like to do to you, too.”

“I can’t wait to find out. But maybe a shower first?”

She nodded, her imagination swimming with the possibilities of what they could do to each other under the hot water.

“That sounds like fun,” she responded with a smile, standing and holding out her hand to him.

He followed her down the hall, and Della smiled secretly to herself, thinking that this was what she had been looking for. The blow-your-mind kind of sex that everyone talked about. She had finally experienced it, and now she was about to experience some more of it.

In fact, she wanted to enjoy as much sex with Gabe as humanly possible before he left, because she had a feeling this was going to be a one-night thing.

Taking his hand as she pulled him into the shower stall, she turned on the water and sank to her knees before him, fully intending to live every single fantasy she could, while she had the chance.

3

G
ABE
WASN
’
T
PROUD
of himself as he snuck around Della’s house while she slept, but it was a necessary evil. After she passed out, he extricated himself from her arms and went downstairs for a more thorough look through her office and then returned upstairs. She was still asleep in the bed, naked, exhausted and wrapped around the tumbled sheets in such a sexy way that he thought about waking her up again. But he wasn’t done.

He slid his fingers along the edges of the built-in bookcases, a small flashlight held between his teeth as he noticed books on just about everything. A good deal of fiction, but also science, math, art and, more unexpectedly, sex.

Several books on the art of lovemaking and the biology of pleasure, he noted with a raised eyebrow.

Well, from his experience, she’d definitely done her research. She wasn’t terribly experienced, he could tell, but she was eager and imaginative. That was preferable, in his book.

He studied the arrangement of the books, looking for anything odd or out of place, something that had been turned differently or was misplaced, but found nothing. No bugs, nothing that would suggest she had been compromised in any way.

Except by him.

He investigated the lamps, her clock, the vents...anyplace someone might hide a camera or a microphone, but there was nothing.

Gabe was happy about that, for several reasons. He shouldn’t have been
happy
, but there was undeniable relief that Della appeared to have no involvement in his current investigation.

Though he still had to go through the locked files on her computer.

He understood now why she had balked when he’d asked to be taken upstairs earlier in the evening. This part of her home was clearly her private space. The entire home was lovely, but this was the place where she truly escaped.

A huge four-poster bed, very feminine and wickedly comfortable, dominated the room. It had been tough for him to stay awake, waiting for her to drift off.

The white cotton frills that rimmed the canopy were balanced by plain wool rugs and simple furniture that gave the room a Zen feeling. Built-in bookcases lined one wall, and there was an easel near a pair of French doors that led out to a terrace. A half-finished watercolor—amateurish, but still charming—sat on the perch. She was painting the view from her veranda, it seemed. And what might have been a bird, but it was hard to tell, exactly.

“Gabe?” Her sleepy voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts, and he switched off the flashlight quickly, leaving it on the dresser, where he’d found it as he went back to the bed.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”

“What are you doing?”

As he approached the bed, his cock twitched with interest. Incredible, after the mini-marathon they’d enjoyed. He hadn’t been this interested in a woman for some time.

“Just looking for my clothes.”

“They’re downstairs,” she said on a yawn.

“Oh right,” he feigned, knowing that, but needing to come up with some excuse in case she’d noticed him hunting around her room.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to. I shouldn’t have stayed this late. Early morning.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, sounding mildly disappointed, but accepting. “I’ll walk you down.”

“No need for that.”

“I want to. I’m awake anyway.”

She slid out of bed, and he could see the contours of her shape in the sliver of light peeking in through a curtain.

He hardened, and had to keep himself from touching, his mind scrambling to stem his reaction. He usually had much better control over himself than this.

Della switched on a low light and took her robe from the chair near the bookshelves. How could she look even sexier putting something
on
?

Her mouth was still swollen from their kissing, but her lips turned down slightly at the edges. Her hair was tumbled everywhere around her face from how he’d combed his fingers through it while pressing her down into the mattress. He looked away. Della was far too tempting.

He slid a look as she bent down to pick up something from the floor, the edge of the robe riding up to the edge of her upper thigh. He groaned, crossing to where she stood and sliding his hands over the soft roundness of her backside. He pushed the robe up, nudged his erection against her bottom and heard her catch her breath.

“Maybe I could stay a bit longer,” he said, giving in as she rose and leaned back against him.

She turned to him with a sigh. She planted her hands on his chest and shook her head.

“We can’t. No more protection.”

He was truly disappointed, but slid his arm around the small of her back and tugged her closer, not willing to give up entirely.

Burying his face in the soft skin of her neck, he licked the spot behind her ear and felt her shudder.

She was sensitive all over, loving to be touched. That made him want to do it even more.

“Gabe, we—”

“Have options,” he said with a chuckle, and kissed a path down to her breast, sucking the sweet flesh there in between his lips as his hands delved lower.

She was already hot, wet, and cried out, gripping his shoulders the minute his fingers found her.

He slipped her hand inside his boxers to stoke his erection, showing her the rhythm he liked. And then he turned all of his attention to kissing every soft spot he could find as they stroked and brought each other to another slow, incredible climax. Gabe thought his knees might actually be slightly shaky; he knew hers were as she sagged against him.

“You are one sexy lady, Della Clark,” he said on a breathless chuckle.

She sighed and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling there. He let her, enjoying that moment, but gently disentangled himself a few minutes later.

“I do have to go.”

She looked at him, sleepy and satisfied, and nodded.

“I know.”

After a quick wash in her en suite, which nearly had them all over each other again, they walked downstairs together.

Gabe couldn’t help but feel mildly regretful that he had to leave. He imagined waking up next to Della would be fun. There were so many ways he could rouse her in the morning.

He stopped short for a second. He never had thoughts like that with other women he’d slept with. Never had a problem leaving after the moment had passed. As he plucked his clothes from the floor and the coffee table where he’d thrown them earlier, he realized he didn’t really want to say goodbye. He wanted to see her again.

That didn’t happen often, either. But Della was...different. She leaned on the doorjamb between the living room and the entryway, watching him, looking sleepy, and maybe a bit sad.

Or was Gabe imagining that? Wishful thinking?

Once he was dressed, he planted his hands on his hips, took a breath, his resolve returning.

“I should get some sleep,” she said, clearly trying to avoid the awkward goodbye. “Thank you. I hope you...have a nice stay in the city.”

“Della, wait.”

He walked toward her and drew her into a hug, kissed her hair, then her cheek and her lips, before he backed away.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but no words came out, so he walked to the door, stepping out into the early morning darkness. The upper Manhattan streets were quiet. There wasn’t a cab in sight, so Gabe headed to the nearest subway station, refocusing on his task and leaving Della’s welcoming warmth behind.

* * *

D
ELLA
DIDN
’
T
HEAR
the conversation going on around her, she was too busy thinking about randomness. The odds of her meeting Gabe were, in the context of the entire world, astronomical. If he hadn’t been seated next to her, would the night before have even happened? Would they have met by some other mechanism? Would she have tripped over his foot in the aisle on her way to the bathrooms, and he might have caught her? Or would they still have mixed up their bags?

No, her analytical mind rebelled. That would suggest fate or determinism. That they were “meant to be.” That was romantic nonsense, according to her mathematician’s mind. It was impossible to know how they ended up sitting next to each other, only that they did. If she had more data, such as when they had bought tickets, how many seats were gone at the time and a swath of other information, she could figure out the probabilities. Then their ending up together would seem far less magical.

But the night they’d spent together
had
been magic. Chemistry, not physics.

“Della? Della, what do you think? What do you have there?”

Chloe Brown, her colleague and friend, marched across the carpeted floor of the fancy dressing room to pluck a napkin from Della’s fingers that had been under her champagne glass. The ladies she had been chatting with walked back out into the main area of the store, no doubt to retrieve more dresses.

Chloe’s huge blue eyes widened as she glanced at the paper in her hand.

“Math? You’re doing
math
? I need opinions on this dress, and then we need to get your dress, as well. The wedding is in three weeks, you know.” Chloe sighed. “I must have been out of my mind to agree to such a rushed date, but with Justin’s job moving, we couldn’t wait.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to be the one supporting
you
, but I’m just distracted today,” Della apologized.

She
should
be focusing more on the dress choices and helping Chloe, but all she seemed to be able to think about was what happened with Gabe last night.

Chloe looked at the napkin more closely.

“Wait a minute...what’s that graph? Who’s
Gabe
?”

Della had forgotten that she’d labeled her variables with
G
and
D
, and reached to snatch the slip of paper from Chloe’s hands.

“Nuh-uh. Come to think of it, you were late this morning, and you’re never late. You have shadows under your eyes, like you didn’t sleep well. And what’s that red mark behind your ear...is that a
hickey
?”

Della scrunched her shoulders, hiding the mark, and inwardly chastising herself for not wearing a scarf, but it was summer in New York—wearing a scarf would draw even more attention.

“What are you, a detective?” Della grumbled, sticking her tongue out, but having a tough time hiding a smile.

She, Della Clark, had girl talk to share.

How many times had she sat at lunch or out for drinks, listening to friends talk about their dates, man troubles and sex lives, when she had nothing to contribute. Now she did.

But she was finding it hard to talk about her news, surprisingly.

What would Chloe think of her? She was marrying a guy she’d been with for years, since college. And Della had taken a man she met on the plane to her apartment for a night of amazing sex.

And she wished she could do it again. Maybe that was the problem with her dating life. She was looking for Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. If she wanted great sex, did she really need a relationship?

Chloe plopped down in the large, cushiony chair next to Della, the satin and lace of the dress she wore billowing all around her. Della reached out and took one edge of the lovely fabric between her fingers, marveling at how soft it was and how detailed the design of the lace.

“It almost looks like fractals,” Della murmured, studying the design.

Was she really only interested in one-time sex? It satisfied a short-term goal, for sure, but what about longer-term goals? What about a day when she might get to wear a dress like this? Have children? Grow old with someone?

What if she missed meeting the man she could spend the rest of her life with when she was pursuing simple pleasure? Not that any of her dating profile responses today looked any more promising than before on either score.

“Della, honey, tell me what happened,” Chloe said, breaking into her thoughts and taking Della’s hand with a friendly squeeze.

“I don’t know if I made a mistake. But it’s made me rethink everything,” Della said. “I’m a little confused.”

Once she started telling Chloe about Gabe, and what had happened, it all poured out much more easily than she thought it would. Chloe listened, and when Della was finally finished explaining as much as she could—without certain details, of course—she saw her friend was smiling.

“Well. Good for you, Della. It’s about time.”

Della sat back in the chair, surprised. “You don’t think I’m a...well, a slut?”

Chloe burst out laughing. “No, not at all. It sounds to me like you met a great guy and had a good time. No harm in that. I slept with Justin the first night we met, too. And had fun with quite a few men I knew before him. There’s nothing wrong with sex for fun.”

“Really?”

“Really. Who knows, a one-night stand could be your wedding-dress guy someday. Stranger things happen. People meet in all kinds of ways.”

“I just wish... I’d really like to see him again. Gabe. I feel like last night was kind of a dream, and believe me, the odds of me finding another man like him are not high.”

“Well, why don’t you see him again?”

“Our meeting was totally random and totally random things are not repeatable,” Della said, and then saw that look on her friend’s face.

“This has nothing to do with math, Della. What’s really going on?”

“He made it clear it was just a one-night thing. He’s only here for a short time, works with the government, something with Homeland Security. When he left, he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. Or what if I did, and it wasn’t as good? Maybe last night was just a fluke.”

Chloe paused, sitting back in her chair. “There’s only one way to find out. You contacted him once about your bags, just contact him again. You don’t have to wait for him to ask, Della. You can ask for what you want, and you should.”

Della frowned. “I don’t know, I feel weird calling him again. Especially for, um, you know for—”

“For sex. Believe me, he won’t mind,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “The worst that can happen is that he says no, or doesn’t pick up the call. Then you have your answer.”