Read To Me (2 page)

“You’re welcome.” Silence lengthened between them. Even though there was no further reason for the stranger to stay, he lingered. His gaze roamed the stacks. “Interesting place. I enjoy book shops, but I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s one of my favorite spots. I love to come and browse, just sit and read.”

“I read so much for my job, I’ve gotten out of the habit of reading for enjoyment. I miss it.” He pulled a book from the shelf and showed her the spine.
Lady Chatterley’s Lover.
“This is one of my favorites.”

Suddenly, it became difficult to breathe. “Yes.” She forced the word through her constricted throat. “That’s an amazing novel.”

Constance Chatterley could only find sexual fulfillment with gamekeeper Oliver Mellors. This man, whoever he was, would make a perfect Mellors.

And she would be Lady Chatterley?

As he stood holding the D.H. Lawrence volume, Blaise imagined his large hands stroking her, caressing her body. She quivered, her panties moistening.

Look away, look away!

Quickly, she redirected her gaze to his face. His lips quirked in a little smile. Oh, God, had he guessed where her thoughts had wandered? “Umm, I take the bus all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

He nodded. “I usually drive to work and back, but my car’s in the shop and I couldn’t catch a ride with anyone, so…” He extended his hand. “I’m Guy, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Blaise.” When they shook hands, she again flashed to the image of him touching her in more intimate ways.

He replaced
Lady Chatterley
on the shelf. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.” He nodded at her book. “
Cupid’s Delight
. I’m not familiar with that one. Any good?”

Blood rushed to her cheeks.
Oh Blaise, don’t be a baby
. She cleared her throat, flustered by the feelings this man brought out in her. “Too early to tell. I haven’t started it.”

“It sounds intriguing, doesn’t it?” His gaze held hers and excitement fizzed through her.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I think so, too.”

With a tilt of his head, Guy indicated the red velvet loveseat wedged into the corner. “Maybe we could sit, read it together.”

Her breath hitched, and her heart thumped so hard she’d have been surprised if he couldn’t see her blouse flutter. Had this man actually asked to read erotica with her? Yes.

And was she going to agree?
Yes!

Chapter Two

His hand warm against her lower back, he guided her to a loveseat. When they sat, only a few inches of space separated them. Blaise shimmied to the right to widen the gap, but the armrest stopped her. There was no more room, nowhere to go.

Not that she was afraid of Guy. There was nothing threatening in his gentle smile and soft gaze. Rather, her own strong reactions frightened her. She wondered how old he was. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes indicated he was in his thirties.
He’s younger than me. How much younger?

But what did it matter? They were only sitting. Almost touching.

A light film of perspiration formed at her hairline. Did the room suddenly grow warmer, or was her temperature on the rise?

He nodded to the book on her lap. “Would you like to start?”

Once again, she’d forgotten it. Blaise opened the book.
By God, I’m not going to chicken out now
.

The book, written sometime in the Victorian era, purported to be an autobiographical account of the author’s own adventures, studying various erotic techniques and practicing them with his many lovers. Blaise couldn’t help but think some fictional license and not a little braggadocio were involved if in fact the book was at all true. If this Anonymous, whoever he was, was half as active as he claimed, he put Casanova to shame.

But it really didn’t matter. As she read about the technique called Heart of the Rose, Blaise’s voice lowered. Somehow, that safe space between her and Guy had disappeared. Without realizing, they’d drawn closer to each other. Her hip pressed against his. As he leaned in, reading the book over her shoulder, his breath stirred her hair and felt warm on her cheek.

Her voice stuttered, then stopped altogether when his hand fell lightly on her knee.

The sound of someone loudly clearing his throat caused them both to pull back—Blaise abruptly, her heart thumping as though she’d been caught doing something shameful. Guy withdrew slowly, as if reluctant to remove his hand.

Mr. Miłosc approached, carrying a tray with three small wine glasses. He handed a glass to Blaise, another to Guy, and kept the third himself. Tucking the tray under his arm, he said. “I thought you might enjoy this.”

The glasses held golden liquor with a slightly spicy aroma. Blaise felt a bit tipsy just inhaling it.

Mr. Miłosc lifted his glass. “
Na zdrowie
. To your health.”

Blaise returned the sentiment in English and took a sip. The rich, sweet flavor of honey rolled over her tongue. She gave Mr. Miłosc a questioning look.

“Krupnik,” he explained. “A very old Polish recipe.”

Blaise licked her lips. “Delicious.”

“Enjoy.” Mr. Miłosc smiled and returned to the front of the store.

She and Guy enjoyed the sweet liqueur in silence, taking small sips, letting the flavor roll around their mouths and fill their senses. Though the portions were small, Blaise began to feel a pleasant buzz. Whether from the krupnik or her companion’s powerful presence, she didn’t know.

When their glasses were empty, Guy placed them both on the floor. With a smile, he touched the book resting on Blaise’s lap. “Shall we continue?”

His hand so close to her intimate parts sent a charge through her. Before she had a chance to speak, the lights at the front of the bookstore flicked off, then on, signaling the shop was about to close.

Blaise blinked in surprise. Guy gave her a rueful smile. “I think we’re being asked to leave.”

“Ah.” She stood reluctantly, gathering her purse and
Little Women
, her heart heavy with disappointment. She didn’t want to go, didn’t want to say goodbye to Guy. As he followed her through the narrow stacks, the lights flicked off above and behind them.

His touch was feather light on her shoulder. She hesitated, then found herself being turned as Guy’s strong arms slipped around her. In the darkness of the narrow space between the shelves, he pulled her close. They were breast to chest as he lowered his mouth to hers. Blaise savored the heat of his breath, the softness of his lips, and sweet residue of the krupnik.

She slid her free hand up his back, feeling his strength even through his suit coat, opening her mouth to the gentle insistence of his tongue. He crushed her to him, their tongues caressing and playing, their breaths mingling. Her breasts ached, her nipples puckered, and her pussy warmed and softened. Blaise would have happily remained in his arms for hours, kissing him.

But time was against them. Guy’s shoulders were stiff, his arms tense as he pulled away, as though he too was reluctant to break their contact. Trembling, Blaise slumped against the tall shelf for support, her legs rubbery. Her head whirled.

Guy touched her shoulder again, gently nudging her, urging her to move. What for? Oh. Yes. Time to leave. Time to go home.

In silence, they made their way to Mr. Miłosc’s desk. Guy held out the copy of
Cupid’s Delight
. “If it’s not too late, I’d like to purchase this.”

The shop owner nodded. “Very well.”

Blaise watched the transaction, her hopes deflating. Guy had purchased the book they’d shared.
Who will he be sharing it with next?

She felt ridiculous lingering by the door, waiting for him. Waiting for what? There’d been a spark, and if they’d had more time, who knew what might have happened? But their moment was gone now. She should just go home.

Normally, the thought of her comfy little apartment at the end of a long day gave her the warm fuzzies. But tonight she dreaded the thought of sitting alone with only the TV for company.

She opened the door, and he was right behind her. “Blaise.”

They were on the street now. She turned to him, vaguely aware of Mr. Miłosc still inside, locking the door and turning the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

Guy’s eyes held a question. He indicated the book in his hand. “We haven’t finished the chapter.”

A cool wave of relief flooded her. It wasn’t goodbye. “No, we haven’t. I hate stopping in the middle of a chapter.”

He smiled. “So where can we go…to read?”

She marshaled her scattered thoughts. “A block from here. There’s a cocktail lounge at the Hempstead Hotel.”

He offered his arm. “What are we waiting for?”

The Hempstead was an old hotel that dated back to the days when elevators had operators and businessmen could smoke while drinking Manhattans at the bar. The lounge was no meat market with pop music blaring. It was a dimly lit, quiet place where people could stop after work to enjoy conversation with friends or simply unwind with a drink and not be disturbed.

They slipped into a corner booth. Guy laid
Cupid’s Delight
, with its bright red cover, on the table. Reminding them of why they were here. Keeping the magic connection between them.

A waitress appeared at their table. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have any krupnik?” Blaise asked.

The young server’s brow crinkled. “I don’t…”

“It’s a honey flavored drink,” Guy told her.

She shook her head. “I don’t think we have that.” Then a smile stole across her face. “But maybe I can come up with something.”

She left, and the two of them sat without speaking. The silence was a comfortable cocoon enveloping them, connecting them. There was no need for speech.

A bit later, the waitress returned with two rocks glasses half-filled with an amber liquid. “Honey flavored Kentucky bourbon,” she explained as she served them.

Guy paid the woman, then lifted his glass in a toast.

Blaise followed suit. “What shall we toast?”

“To happy accidents,” he proposed.

“That works for me.” They clinked their glasses, and Blaise took a sip. Though unusually sweet, the drink had the familiar burn of whiskey. Heat spread down her throat to her belly and below.

He touched the book. “Shall we continue?”

She nodded, and Guy opened to the page and began to read. People around them chatted and laughed, going about their business, but she and Guy were in a bubble. No one looked their way. No one paid them any mind. They were in a tiny universe all their own.

Blaise sipped her drink, sliding closer to him in the circular booth. He was so big, so warm. Just being near him made her body heat rise. Perspiration bloomed, and her blouse clung to her skin. Her nipples, hard and achy, poked against her bra. A few words penetrated the haze—something about the Hummingbird’s Kiss—but it wasn’t the story line or the whiskey making her woozy. She was getting drunk on the low, sensual timbre of Guy’s voice.

Soon the words blurred into an incomprehensible buzz in her ears. Her breath slowed as she watched his lips move. She pictured herself kissing them, licking the sweetness from them. Lowering her gaze to his hands, she imagined them touching her. He’d skim the pads of his fingers along her torso, fasten those succulent lips of his on her nipple and pull…

Her pussy responded to the fantasy with an answering pull. She shifted slightly to ease the throb between her thighs. Her movement must have distracted him. His gaze flickered from the page to light on her face and his voice trailed off.

Guy nodded to her empty glass. “Another?”

She’d finished it? When had that happened? “No.” Her tongue felt thick.

“Would you like something else, then?” he asked.

Yes.
She knew what exactly she wanted. The question was, did she have the guts to ask?

It’s your last chance. Your last adventure before you become the boring old mother of the bride. Take it. Take it!

Gathering her courage, she took the leap. “Yes.” She placed her hand on his thigh. Underneath her fingers, his muscles tensed. His eyebrows lowered, and his gaze sharpened.

“Yes.” She squeezed his thigh. “I want to get a room. Let’s go upstairs.”

Chapter Three

She waited near the elevator while he got them a room at the front desk. Blaise trembled as they rode up together to the fourth floor. She hadn’t felt this excited and nervous since she was a teenager. Part of her wanted to grab Guy and take him right in the elevator. The other part stood back, shaking her head in confusion.
Am I really doing this?

Yes, I am
. Now was not the time to lose her nerve.

As though he guessed her thoughts, Guy grasped her hand and squeezed it as he watched the numbers rise on the indicator panel. His touch steadied her even as electric tingles shot through her. This was right. Tonight she’d give herself this gift. She wouldn’t be the bus passenger or the teacher’s aide or the mother of the bride. She’d be Blaise, the woman with sexual needs and desires.

The perfect gentleman, Guy gestured for her to precede him out the elevator. They walked side by side down the hall.

“We’re room four-thirty-nine,” he murmured.

He unlocked the door with the keycard and again allowed her to go first. As she placed her purchase from the Tattered Page on top of a low dresser, she took in the utilitarian furnishings in the small room. The bed, the upholstered side chair, the old-fashioned armoire, all contributed to the retro atmosphere of the Hempstead.

When Guy closed the door behind him, he tossed
Cupid’s Delight
onto the seat of the chair. She turned to him, and they moved toward each other as though synchronized.

They kissed. His mouth caressed hers gently, patiently, warming her up. Exquisite foreplay. Guy’s lips were the softest, most delicious she’d ever tasted, and she wanted more. In the bookstore, she’d been taken unawares, but now that they had time, she wanted to savor him the way a gourmet would savor a five-star restaurant meal. One tiny bite at a time.