Tempts Me (3 page)

“I work in human resources for a global marketing corporation in the same building where Elliott makes his millions.” Simone teased the rim of her glass with her tongue, amused by the way Barry’s gaze went straight to it. Well. So far at least it wasn’t her tits.

“He’s a lawyer.”

“I know what he does,” Simone said.

Barry frowned. “See that guy in the corner, talking to the one in the gray suit?”

“Of course.”

“He’s the future governor of Louisiana.”

Simone barked out a laugh she covered quickly with her hand. “That guy? That kid? He’s what, twenty years old?”

“He’s almost thirty. Got a baby face. But he’ll be governor, don’t you worry about that. He’s got old money behind him and a daddy who wants nothing more than to see his baby boy get into politics.”

Simone watched the guy, who wore his suit like it weighed too much. He had a woman on each arm and a drink in one hand. His eyes were a little red. “What’s he doing in Philadelphia?”

“Daddy owns a construction business. Low-cost housing mostly, though there’s some commercial work in there, too. He’s up here to get bids on materials, and it’s my job to connect him with the people who are gonna give him what he wants. So I’m gonna get him a little drunk. A little laid. And then I’m gonna use the stuff Elliott found out about him to lean on him a little. Nothing serious. Just … persuasive.”

Simone’s brows went up. “What kind of stuff does Elliott find out for you?”

“Legal stuff,” Barry said. “Of course.”

“Of course.” They stared at each other until Simone laughed. The gin was making everything seem brighter than it was. She patted him on the shoulder. “You know what makes a party even better? Food.”

“Buffet is through that doorway right there, honey; you go get yourself a plate.” Barry gave her an appreciative glance that Simone tried and failed to find irritating.

The thing with men was, she thought as she followed Barry’s directions and helped herself to the buffet, most of the time, they had no idea they were being giant douche canoes. Getting all bent out of shape about a stranger calling her honey was stupider than getting mad about him ogling her breasts, especially when her breasts were pretty damned spectacular, if she did say so herself.

She’d filled her plate with a delicious-looking assortment of spring rolls, cheese and mustard, and some little quiches when Elliott found her. She held up the plate. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. I don’t eat from buffets.” Elliott put a hand lightly on his stomach for a second, scanning the room behind her before focusing on first the plate, then her face. “You’re going to eat all that?”

Simone paused with a spring roll halfway to her lips. “Yes. Is there a reason I shouldn’t? Barry told me to help myself.”

“There’s fruit over there.” He pointed.

Simone deliberately bit into the spring roll and chewed, then swallowed. “And?”

“Fruit would be better for you.”

He still wasn’t looking at her, but beyond her, so Simone waited without answering until he gave her the benefit of his gaze. “I’d rather have a spring roll. Mmmm. You should try it. Want a bite?”

“No.”

It was hard to miss the look of fleeting disgust. She didn’t ask again. Instead, she glanced behind her. “Who are you looking for?”

His eyes met hers. “Who says I’m looking for anyone?”

“The way you keep scanning the room behind me. A girl could get a complex.” Simone licked her fingertips and watched him watch her do it. She kept herself from smiling. She didn’t want to scare him off, and something told her that if she acknowledged that she saw Mr. Elliott Anderson ogling the way her tongue flickered on her fingers, he would pull another one of those strangely endearing retreats. She dragged another spring roll through a smear of mustard and bit into it. Flavor exploded on her tongue, so good she had to make a little noise. “Mmmf. You really need to try this, Elliott.”

“No, I—”

“C’mon,” she said and stepped closer, offering the food.

He jerked his head to the side to keep her from his mouth. “No. Thanks.”

At that moment, someone in a damned hurry to get at the buffet pushed behind her, shoving her into Elliott’s arms. He caught her just above the elbows to steady her, but in the few seconds before Simone caught her balance, they were pressed against each other. Belly to belly. Chest to chest. She breathed in the scent of him, felt the heat of his skin even through the material of her blouse. The roughness of his trouser leg scraped for a second at the inside of her thigh.

And then they were standing with only inches between them, and his gaze had gone dark. His mouth parted. His tongue came out to wet the center of his lower lip, and oh, fuck, did she want to kiss him. No. She wanted something else.

She wanted
him
to kiss
her,
hard and bruising, bringing the taste of blood. And in that instant, something in the flash of his gaze told Simone that maybe, just maybe, Elliott wanted the same thing. It was gone as fast as it came. When his grip on her arms loosened, she let out a small, disappointed sigh.

“You spilled,” he said with a grimace of distaste.

She looked down at her blouse, now stained with splatters of soy sauce and mustard. Frowning, Simone set her plate down on the small table meant for used dishes. “Damn it.”

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. To the left.” Elliott pointed.

In the bathroom, which was almost the size of her entire apartment, Simone shrugged out of her blouse and held it at the sink, scrubbing at the stains, hoping they wouldn’t set. Of course, even though the stains faded, now her entire blouse was transparent. Standing in her bra at the sink, she sighed. She’d be trapped in here until it dried.

It could’ve been worse. Technically a powder room because it had no tub or shower, the bathroom still had two sinks and, an odd choice for a residential bathroom, two toilets in separate stalls. A small alcove held a padded bench. The decor was a mix of French Provincial and what Simone could only call “Grandma’s House” chic—gilded faux gas lamps on the walls, ornate frames around pictures of small children in Victorian clothes, and dried flowers over the mirror, which was also in a fancy gold frame.

All proof that money didn’t mean you had taste to match. Shaking her head, Simone shook out her blouse and held it to the light to see if she needed to do more scrubbing. Behind her the door opened just as she realized that one, she hadn’t locked the door and two, it was a coed bathroom.

“Sorry,” Elliott said upon spying her with her wet blouse held up in front of her almost bare chest. “You were taking so long, I wanted to be sure you weren’t sick or something.”

“I’m fine. Just trying to clean my blouse. Why would you think I was sick?”

“You ate from the buffet,” he began, but before he could finish, the door behind him rattled.

Before she knew it, Simone was again pressed up against him, though this time it was in the first bathroom stall with a soaking shirt between them. When she opened her mouth to protest, he covered it with his hand. His palm pressed her lips against her teeth.

Her knees went weak.

Elliott leaned closer, closer, closer, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he said into her ear, “Don’t say a word. I don’t want anyone to know I’m in here with you.”

*   *   *

Simone’s eyes were very blue in the light streaming down from the hideous overhead fixture. They’d gone first wide, then heavy lidded when he pressed his hand over her mouth, but when he spoke, they narrowed. She nodded though, after a second or so, and he took a chance on uncovering her mouth. Her lipstick had smeared a little, and he used a thumb to wipe the smudge.

She shrugged herself into her shirt, every motion pushing her against him. In the narrow space, he became very aware of her smell. Floral. Something like lilies, but faint and undercut with the fresher scent of soap and water so that maybe she wasn’t wearing perfume at all, but simply smelled of her last shower. It would’ve been a misstatement to say that he wasn’t used to his women smelling so … clean … because certainly none of them were ever unhygienic. But all of them, to a one, scented themselves so thoroughly that it was hard for Elliott to tell them apart in his memories, when he thought of them at all. Which wasn’t often.

He leaned close again to breathe her in, lips and nose brushing the flesh of her neck. She didn’t shrink away from him, but instead turned her head to give him complete access to her skin. That simple acquiescence, along with the way she’d so readily given in to the press of his hand over her mouth urging her to silence, sent a rush of sensation straight to his cock.

“Shhh,” Elliott mouthed against her as the sound of voices rose and fell outside the stall. Simone sighed softly but didn’t say a word. “Good girl,” he breathed.

At that, she pulled away from him enough to shoot him another narrow-eyed glare. It seemed all he could do tonight was misjudge women, but too late now because the voices outside the stall were louder and closer, and they didn’t sound like they planned on leaving anytime soon. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. Judging by the rustle of clothing and murmurs, the people on the other side of the door were going to be there for quite awhile.

When the doorknob turned, he should’ve stepped away from Simone and made his apologies, ducking out. Instead, he’d overreacted, pushing her into this bathroom stall, where she was pressed up against him as though she’d been made to fit there. Now, they were trapped. The only way to deal with it was to wait it out, or to open the stall door and reveal themselves in this compromising position—which would be more embarrassing than if he’d simply left when the door opened originally.

“Oh, honey, that feels real nice,” said a low male voice from outside the stall. “Yeah, a little harder. Sure, use your teeth a little.”

Against him, Simone shuddered with laughter, eyes bright. She clapped a hand over her own mouth to keep the noise muffled, and Elliott relaxed. Just a little. She wasn’t going to give them away.

He became uncomfortably aware, however, of how she felt pressed to him. Somehow, his thigh had ended up between hers. With that black skirt she’d magically made shorter in preparation for the party, her thighs were bared to him, and he felt the heat even through the fabric of his trousers. Muscles low in his belly clenched as she rocked herself against him with a motion so slight and small he couldn’t be sure if it were on purpose or merely an attempt to get a little more comfortable in the cramped space. Neither of them could move very far without either making a lot of noise or putting a foot in the open toilet.

Elliott, moving with careful, deliberate silence, reached to lower the toilet lid. This meant he had to push against Simone even more, moving lower over the rounded beauty of her tits and then the firmness of her belly, the curve of her hip, until he could let the lid fall without noise from his fingertips.

She didn’t move, not an inch. Not a breath. Not a blink.

He wanted to stay this way forever, or at least long enough to slide her skirt up the rest of the way and bury his face in that heat. Was her pussy bare? The women he dated invariably plucked and waxed and shaved themselves to fashion-doll baldness; Elliott had lost his taste for that a long time ago. No, he thought, straightening with that same careful silence, the hair between Simone’s legs would be the same glossy black as that on her head. Without thinking, he let one finger stroke the feathery fringes she’d swept forward on her cheek.

That brought his fingertip dangerously close to her mouth. Unable to stop himself, wondering what the hell had gotten into him tonight, Elliott let his finger drift over her lower lip. Her mouth opened obediently, the wet cave of it beckoning him. He let his finger slip in to test the slickness of her tongue.

She bit him.

With a muffled shout, Elliott jerked his finger from her sharp teeth. His elbow jammed the side of the stall. His ass rammed against the door, which opened, and he stopped himself from falling ass-over-teakettle at the last moment only by grabbing on to the door frame.

She was laughing, not bothering to cover her mouth this time, and pushing past him to get out of the stall.

“Oops,” Simone said to the half-naked couple sprawling on the small bench in the alcove next to the sink. “Carry on!”

With that, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him behind her, out of the bathroom. Her laughter would’ve turned heads if anyone had been in the hall outside, but thankfully it was empty. Elliott yanked himself free of her grip, one hand on her wrist. Holding tight. Grinding. He was sure she’d pull away with a yelp and a scowl.

Simone didn’t pull away. She sighed, laughter disappearing, but again her eyes went heavy lidded and that lush mouth parted on a sigh. “Elliott,” she breathed.

He let her go. Stepping backward, smoothing his tie and his wrinkled shirt, Elliott shook off the feeling of her slim wrist in his hand. “I think it’s time we leave. Come on. Let’s go.”

Blinking, Simone didn’t move until he did. Then she stepped quickly after him, catching up to his elbow to snag it and turn him at the end of the hall. “Hey. Wait a minute.”

He didn’t want to wait a minute. He hadn’t really wanted to come to this party in the first place, hadn’t wanted to play Barry’s pseudopolitical games. He definitely hadn’t wanted to end up in a bathroom stall with Simone Kahan. Elliott kept walking.

“Hey,” she said after him, loud enough to draw attention. “Don’t walk away from me, that’s rude!”

Her accusation, along with the knowledge that she was right, stopped him. Stiff-backed, Elliott half turned. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why?” Smartly, Simone moved up beside him to look him in the eye. “You afraid someone might stare?”

“Yes.” Elliott frowned, fists clenching until she glanced at them. Then he forced them to loosen. He’d have shoved them in his pockets, but that would ruin the line of his trousers.

Something softened in her face as she watched him. Incredibly, she moved forward with a hand flat on his chest. The movement made Elliott step back until he hit the wall. “Your heart is beating very fast.”