Tall, Dark and Divine (13 page)

She nodded her head and watched his smile widen as he tossed the little packet onto the couch. Then he bent and pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, several inches above the knee.

Holy God
. Annie’s breath caught in her throat, and her entire body tightened. For a second, she thought her head might explode.

He didn’t do it again, though, just skimmed both hands farther up under her skirt, pushing the fabric with them. Until he could cup her buttocks in his hands. “Come down.”

Down?

She scooted closer to him, until her butt was on the edge of the sofa and he was kneeling between her thighs.

Oh
.

Oh, God
.

When he leaned in, her breath went again, and the feel of his mouth against the silk of her panties had her ass coming off the cushions.

He chuckled. “Relax.”

“I
was
relaxed.” Until he started doing this.

“I just want to taste you. I didn’t get a chance to yesterday.” His mouth came back, and Annie clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirt and did her best not to pass out from the sensations.

It was over far too soon. Apparently he did just want to taste her, and not do anything else, because it was just a minute or two before he removed his head from between her thighs and instead popped a button or two on her blouse so he could nuzzle her stomach.

Eventually he made his way up to her breasts, encased in tight red lace.

Her breasts were one of her better features, Annie thought. Her booty might be too big, and her thighs might not be as toned as she’d like, but a few extra pounds did go a long way toward creating the kind of cleavage men enjoyed. Obviously Ross was a breast man. She had suspected as much when he went for hers last night, and this clinched it: his eyes positively smoldered.

He looked up at her.

“Please,” Annie said breathlessly. He probably wasn’t looking for permission, but it couldn’t hurt to let him know what she wanted.

He smiled and leaned forward to run the tip of his tongue along the edge of one scalloped cup, leaving a trail of cool wetness in its wake, before closing his lips around one tight peak and suckling through the lace.

“Oh. Oh, God…”

Her hips arched reflexively, and she wove her fingers through the tight curls at the back of his head to keep him in place.

He chuckled. He reached down between them to touch her through the moist silk.

“Oh!”

Staying on the sofa was a lost cause. Annie braced her bare feet and pushed against his hand, wanting—needing—more.

He obliged by slipping a long finger past the silk and into her. Deep inside, to where she was already spasming helplessly, desperate for release. The intrusion of his fingers—first one, then two—was beyond perfect, and she could feel moisture pooling between her legs, sliding down to make his fingers slick and slippery.

He murmured his appreciation against her breast, and the vibration, coupled with the way he moved his fingers and the heel of his hand pushing hard against her—
right there
—tipped her over the edge. She clenched around his fingers, eyes opening wide as the orgasm ripped through her.

“Oh! Oh, God! Ross…!”

He smiled as he watched her ride the crest, his eyes glittering, moving his hand in just the right way and with just the right amount of pressure to make the climax last forever. When he finally let her come down, she was limp and boneless, sprawled on his beautiful leather sofa with her skirt twisted around her waist and her blouse unbuttoned, with her bra wet, her panties soaked, and any dignity she’d started with gone.

…

“Beautiful,” Eros murmured, and Annie glanced up at him, startled. “You’re beautiful when you come apart.”

“Thank you.” But she didn’t look like she believed him. She looked embarrassed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes downcast. She was plucking at that black skirt, as if she itched to pull it down to cover herself.

Over his dead body. As far as he was concerned, she shouldn’t just spend her life barefoot, she should spend it naked. Sprawled on his sofa, wet and open and well loved.

His
.

He reached out and trailed a fingertip down her thigh, enjoying the shiver that resulted. When she moved to close her legs, he shook his head. “No. Let me look at you.”

She subsided, but only for a second or two. Then she opened her mouth again. “Ross?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

He smiled, eyes on the wet silk between her thighs. “Don’t worry. I’ll get what I want. First I want to make sure you’ve gotten what you need.”

“I have.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. Earnestly.

Eros grinned. “Glad to hear it. In that case…” He leaned forward and blew against the wet fabric, watching her shiver, before reaching up under her skirt to pull the scrap of silk down her thighs. Baring wet curls and soft pink petals, drenched in cream.

Beautiful
.

Annie flushed. “I thought you said—”

“I said I’d get what I wanted. And I want you. Any way I can have you.”

He looked up at her and saw the implication take root. Her eyes widened. He smiled. “Now hush and let me enjoy.”

He pushed her thighs apart and leaned in, stroking his tongue through her wetness.

“Oh!” Annie squeaked, her hips arching off the sofa.

So responsive
. He did it again, feeling her shiver under his hands. She whimpered, tossing her head.

“God, Ross, I can’t…!”

“Just for a minute.” He wanted to be inside her just as much as she wanted him there. But he wanted to taste her properly first, without the silk of her panties in his mouth. Just her: fresh and clean and delicious.

He brought her as close to the edge as he could without tossing her over before he sat back on his heels, watching her. She was flushed, panting, with shudders running through her body and those big eyes liquid with desire. For him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to be inside her, right now.

He fumbled with his zipper, hands shaking. The relief of being able to free his straining member was beyond anything he could imagine. He was so hard it was painful. And he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything in his long, long life—and the thought stunned him for a second, before he pushed it aside to think about later.

Right now the only thing that mattered was Annie.

Annie, spread open before him, wet and warm and welcoming.

Annie, with her eyes intent on him, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick her lips, as if she imagined she could taste him.

His dick surged at the idea as he rolled on the condom, and he bit back a groan. When he positioned himself at the entrance to her body and pushed inside her wetness, she moaned, too.

“Oh! Oh, Ross…”

He loved that she said his name. She might want Harry, but at the moment, he was the one bringing her pleasure, the one whose name she called.

“Again.” He reinforced the request with another thrust, harder and deeper.

“Oh! Oh, God! Ross…!” She clutched at him, her eyes blind.

She was so close to the edge that all it took was a few strokes to push her over. And he was right there with her, just as desperate for release, so he followed right behind. As soon as he felt her clench around him, her body dissolving into spasms, he let go of the little bit of control he still retained and flew over the edge himself, holding on to her as he soared.

Holding on to her as he landed, still holding on to her as he collapsed, his chest heaving and his face buried against the softness of her skin.

…

There was a photograph on the coffee table.

Annie hadn’t noticed it earlier in the excitement of everything that had happened, but as she came down off her orgasmic high, and as she was sprawling there half naked, with her arms around Ross’s shoulders and his face hidden against her stomach, his breaths deep and steady and warm against her skin, she couldn’t help but notice it, propped up against the wine bottle.

A woman with long brown hair curling around her shoulders and the most exquisitely beautiful face Annie had ever seen. Never mind Ari and Brita and Iris and Carrie. Never mind every supermodel who’d ever graced the cover of a fashion magazine anywhere in the world. Never mind the combined Miss Universes for the past ninety years or however long the pageant had been going on.

Standing next to the woman in the photograph, they’d all look average.

And to add insult to injury, she was naked. Or naked to the waist, anyway, which was all Annie could see. Of course her breasts were perfect, too.

Was this Ross’s ex-wife?

No wonder he was having a hard time getting over her. She looked like the kind of woman a man might carry a torch for for quite a long time. The kind of woman a man might never fully get over.

It explained a lot, she realized, aware of a sinking feeling in her stomach, right below where his head rested.

This—tonight—hadn’t really been about her at all. Ross had been sitting alone drinking wine and listening to music and looking at risqué pictures of his ex-wife when Annie arrived. He’d already been horny when she knocked on his door. It hadn’t been her he’d wanted so much as release and a substitute for what he no longer had.

He might have tried to seduce any woman who happened to walk into his orbit tonight. It just so happened that she was the lucky one.

Congratulations.

“I should go.”

She wasn’t aware of having said the words out loud until he lifted his head from her stomach to look up at her, his arms still wound around her waist and his eyes sleepy under long lashes. “Already?”

She forced a smile. “It’s late.”

“Not that late.”

“I have to work in the morning.”

“It’s a shorter walk from here,” Eros said, which certainly was true. She could roll out of bed at ten to ten and still make it to work on time.

“I have to take a shower and change.” She was sticky, and so was he. And although a part of her loathed the idea of washing away the scent and feel of him, another part didn’t want the reminder of what they’d done.

“I have a shower you can use. I’ll join you.”

He winked. Annie managed another smile even as tears pushed against the backs of her eyes. She had to clear her throat. “I really think it would be better if I just went home. I doubt your clothes will fit me, and I can’t go to work in this.”

She picked at the silky blouse and ruffled skirt.

“Oh.” He looked disappointed, as if he’d really wanted her to stay. Maybe his wife was someone who liked to go all night. Or maybe he was just trying to make up for lost time.

For a moment she was tempted to tell him she’d stay, just for another chance to make love with him, but common sense reared its head. He didn’t really want her, any more than Harry did. She was just convenient, like she’d been convenient last night. And he’d keep using her until she made herself unavailable. Or until he got tired of her and found someone else, someone more like his ex-wife. And she wasn’t sure she could handle that. Easier to put a stop to things now, when she was the one who could walk away.

He moved off her reluctantly, and Annie got to her feet. Her skirt dropped down to cover her nakedness, and buttoning her blouse didn’t take long, even with fingers that shook. In no time at all, she’d stuffed her feet back into the red shoes—they made her arches scream in agony, but it wasn’t like she had a choice; she couldn’t walk home barefoot—and shrugged on her coat. Meanwhile, Ross zipped his pants and straightened his shirt. He looked good enough that she almost regretted her decision to leave, especially when he gave her a look from those melting brown eyes along with a smile that curled her toes inside the uncomfortable shoes.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? I’ll make it worth your while.”

No doubt.

“I really should get home.” Away from him, before she could fall even deeper under his spell.

He nodded, as if he realized he couldn’t change her mind. “I’ll walk you there. Just wait a second while I find a pair of shoes.”

“No.” The word was out before she had thought about what to say, an instinctive rejection, and something flashed in his eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it was hurt or anger, but either option made her feel like something Fiona might have left on the bottom of her shoe. She forced another smile. “There’s no need. It’s just a few blocks, and you look tired.”

“Not that tired,” Ross said, and wiggled his eyebrows.

Annie smiled. “You know what I mean. You’re here. You’re comfortable. I’m the one who crashed your night. There’s no need for you to walk me home. It isn’t far. It isn’t that late. And I can always catch a cab.”

He nodded, seemingly accepting of her decision. And why not, when she wasn’t really who he wanted? “You’ll be at the bakery tomorrow?”

She nodded. “No rest for the weary. People buy dog biscuits on Saturdays, too.”

“How about stopping by the office tomorrow night? Say, seven?”

Annie blinked. “Why?”

“Dinner,” Ross said.

Oh. He wanted to take her to dinner?

A tiny hope lit inside her. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe she wasn’t just convenient.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. “You’ll be there?”

Annie nodded.

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips soft and warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Be careful walking home.”

“Sure.” She felt the kiss all the way down the stairs, and all the way down the street and around the corner and the rest of the handful of blocks home. She could still feel the pressure of his lips by the time she had crept up the last flight of stairs to her own apartment, the red shoes in her hand now instead of on her feet, and when she collapsed into her own bed—the same bed where he’d made love to her yesterday—that kiss still stayed on her cheek like a brand.

Chapter Sixteen

The apartment seemed colder and a little lonelier after Annie left. Eros really would have liked for her to stay, although he could understand why she wouldn’t. Once again he’d taken advantage of her and seduced her when she was down and unable to resist. Yesterday, she’d been tipsy. Tonight she’d been exhausted, angry, and in need of comfort—and he’d taken her mind off Harry Mitchell by rubbing her feet and stroking her thighs and licking her…