TheTemptationNotJustifiedAReFinal (4 page)

He
pulled the dress back over her bared breast and then caressed the fullness of
her lower lip with his thumb. “I’ve been wanting to get you off all night.”

“Well,
you certainly did a good job,” she replied, her voice still shaky. She finally
mustered the nerve to look at him. “What took you so long?”

“I needed
to be sure you were open to it,” he replied with a grin. He released her leg
but didn’t step back. They remained as close to each other as Siamese twins,
and she could feel the hard length of his unsatisfied need. The nonstop beat of
the rain continued around them. “We should probably get you someplace warm,
where you can dry off. You’re all wet.” He stroked the underside of her jaw
with his knuckles, and a shiver of pleasure traveled across her skin. Everything
he did turned her on.

The
rawness of his voice and the hunger in his eyes revealed much more to his
invitation. She knew what he offered, though he didn’t say the words. The
unspoken question dangled in the night air between them. That she even
considered going with him showed the state of her mind. This was not the
behavior of a mature thirty-year-old. Instead, she felt the unfettered
irresponsibility of youth, the reckless abandon that came with the acknowledgement
tonight was hers to enjoy however she chose.

“Yes,
I’m all wet.”

The
raunchy flirtation caused a flame to flare to life in his eyes. “I guess I’ll
have to lick you dry.”

His
words almost made her knees buckle. The idea that she was in over her head
rattled through her brain, but she didn’t want to think about the consequences
or repercussions of her actions. She wanted to taste what it was like to be
uninhibited. For so long she’d walked a straight and narrow path to ensure the
best for herself and her daughter. Tonight she wanted to know pleasure, and she
knew without a doubt she would experience even more of it with Roarke.

“I
don’t think that’s possible,” she whispered.

“I’d
like to try.”

They
made haste through the rain. The doorman at the Ritz-Carlton swung open the
door at their approach. In the elevator, Roarke hungrily seized her mouth
again, dragging her close and letting his hands rove possessively over her hips
and buttocks, singeing her lips with hot kisses until the elevator chime notified
them of the arrival on his floor.

At
the door to his room, he inserted the thin card into the slot, and the lock
clicked. He turned to her, giving her a look as if to say, Are you sure? In
answer, Celeste pushed down on the handle and led the way inside.

It
was all happening so fast, but she didn’t want to stop. To tell him she'd never
done anything like this before would be so cliché. So when he grabbed her from
behind, she leaned into his warm embrace. He marched her to a spot in the room
where he could flick a switch and illuminate the space in lamplight.

“You’re
so damn sexy.” He uttered the words in a low tone, at the same time reaching
for the zipper beneath her arm.

His
insistent erection pressed against the cleft of her butt cheeks, and she rested
her head on his shoulder. He shoved the dress down and turned her in a circle
to face him. For a moment, her earlier boldness diminished as she stood there
in only a red thong and red heels. Then she saw the lust smoldering in his dark
eyes and endured his inspection, standing straight and letting her breasts jut
proudly from her chest.

“Sexy,”
he said again before backing her against the wall.

With
strokes of his tongue, he licked the sheen of rainwater from her skin,
traveling up her arm and switching to mini-kisses across her shoulder. He
settled into the crook of her neck, where his kisses became more arduous and
demanding. When his fingers hooked in the thin elastic strips at her hips and
shoved the thong down her thighs, her entire body flushed with expectation.

She
watched him lower to his knees, and she stepped out of the satin panties.

“Let
me see if I can dry you off.”

The
rasp of his voice scraped across her nerve endings before he ran his long
fingers up her damp calves, past the back of her knees to hold her thighs
apart. He pressed his mouth to the juncture of her thighs, and his tongue began
an in-depth exploration of the delicate folds.

Celeste
gasped loudly at the firm pressure of his soft lips, acute arousal winding its
way through her as she watched him from her view above and heard the sounds his
lips made as he continued with his pleasure-giving task. His fingers tightened
on her thighs, keeping her open to the degree he wanted. Clutching his dark
head, she rolled her hips against his face in a mindless grasp toward a climax.

Her
body grew taut as he continued his vain attempt to lick her dry, every cell
attuned to the thrust and twirl of his tongue and the pressure of kisses from
his full lips. She barreled toward an orgasm. Another one, so soon after the
first. A hoarse cry of satisfaction burst from her lungs as a tidal wave of
pleasure overtook her body and left her weak and sagging against the wall.

Roarke
rose to his full height and watched the labored rise and fall of her perfect little
breasts. He started unbuttoning his vest. “I’m just getting started.” Her eyes
widened. “Keep on the heels,” he said with a roguish grin.

When
he’d stripped out of his clothes, they moved onto the bed, where he dragged her
down on top of him. He ran his hands up and down the length of her back,
molding her soft contours to his harder frame, caressing her hips and thick
thighs. He kissed her deeply before rolling her over so she lay beneath him.

He
retrieved a condom from his pants.

“Roarke,”
Celeste whispered, “if I don’t . . . come again, it’s because I can’t come—”

“You’ve
never been with me,” he said with confidence. He took two pillows and settled
them under her hips, then braced himself on one arm. Her beauty enthralled him,
and he felt like he was losing himself in her sweet brown eyes. “There’s a
science to this.” As he spoke, he caressed her skin, loving how her body arched
into his touch. The smoothest silk couldn’t match the sensation of her soft
skin under his fingers. “Eighty percent of women have an orgasm through oral
stimulation. Only twenty-five percent through penetration.” He hovered his lips
only a hair’s breadth above hers. “Most men don’t take the time to get to know
a woman’s body the way they should.” He tweaked the brown nipple of one breast,
following up with a gentle massage, enjoying the contortion of her face at the
pleasure.

“Every
woman is different,” he continued. Even though he tried to speak in clinical
terms, the husky heat of his voice betrayed his aroused state. Her moaning was starting
to drive him crazy. “But every woman has a G-spot.”

“I
thought that was a myth,” she said in a soft, shaky voice. Her delicate fingers
reached up to caress the back of his neck.

“It’s
not a myth.” He dipped his head and kissed her. She clung tighter to him. “I’m
about to make you come so hard they’ll hear you for miles.”

She
was halfway there already before his muscular thighs splayed her legs apart.
When he pushed into her, he filled her, the muscles stretching to tighten
around his wide shaft. Through the use of long, controlled strokes, the tension
slowly unfurled inside of her, taking her back down the now familiar path of
sensual madness.

His
mouth closed over the ignored breast, and his teeth nibbled at her hardened
nipple, sending a shock of electricity through her system. Relentless, he
targeted the other one, sucking the turgid flesh, opening his mouth wide over
the areola as if he wanted to take the entire mound into his mouth.

She spiraled
toward inevitable release as his heated hand palmed her breast, kneading its
softness and shaping it with his hands. His touch was gentle, yet firm, a
formula perfectly calculated to drive her out of her mind. As his mouth
continued the delicious sucking motion, his fingers tweaked the hardened nipple
of the other breast.

A
gasp broke from her lips, and she lifted her hips from the pillows toward him.
Roarke angled his body and hit something deep inside her, made her beg in a
hoarse whisper for the final thrust that would give her what she craved.

“Hold
on to me,” he whispered roughly.

She
couldn’t think. She could only feel, and she was burning up, hot, desperate.
She kept her eyes closed, wrapping her arms around him as he instructed, lifting
toward him with each downward stroke, clinging to him harder as their bodies
moved faster. Faster.

She
screamed. Loud. Curling her fingers into the sweat-dampened skin of his back.
It was a cry of fulfillment. She knew for sure they must have heard her in the
room next door. She’d never experienced an orgasm from penetration before, and
her foggy brain fought to comprehend what had happened. Her body shuddered and
seemed to break apart from too much sensation.

Several
hard pumps of his hips later, spasms rippled through Roarke. With a groan, he
drew back and slammed into her one more time, his spine stiffening as his body
emptied. With a heavy breath, he collapsed on top of her.

Floating
back down to Earth, a thought gripped Celeste.

Roarke
was almost too good to be true. Good-looking, smart, a great conversationalist,
and an affectionate, masterful lover.

She moaned
as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

A
foolish woman could easily find herself thinking she was already falling in
love with him.

Chapter
Four

After
she dug some hairpins from the bottom of her purse, Celeste combed her fingers
through her hair and brought what order she could to it by pinning it back. Her
overly bright eyes stared back at her in the bathroom mirror.

What
a night.

A
smile graced her lips and her body warmed from the memories.

She’d
lowered her inhibitions and thrown herself full throttle into the best sex
ever. Since Roarke only had three condoms, they’d found creative ways to enjoy
each other throughout the night. She’d done things with him—and ice cubes—she hadn’t
done with her own husband. After a glorious night spent in his arms, she didn’t
regret taking a chance.

Now
what? She didn’t know the protocol for a one-night stand. Should she wake him
or just leave?

Celeste
flicked off the light and walked lightly on bare feet into the dark room. With
the heavy curtains still drawn, she could barely see Roarke’s sleeping form
under the covers. The white sheet sat enticingly low on his hips, revealing the
muscles of his taut stomach.

Indecision
weighed heavy on her mind as she hovered a few feet from the bed. She wanted to
lean down and kiss his cheek, but it might wake him. Or better yet, slide
beneath the sheets and feel his arms lock around her again, but she couldn’t.
She’d already slept late and lingered in the bed too long listening to his even
breathing.

Besides,
she should be honest with herself and take a hard look at what had taken place.
She’d spent the night with a man she met for the first time last night. They’d had
a good time, but bottom line, she should go. This was a one-night stand and
nothing more, and she had to get rid of any latent expectations.

Accept
it’s over, get out, go home, and go to work.

A
few more moments passed.

Maybe
. . . What if . . . ?

Celeste
shook her head to clear it of her wistful ruminations. What was she thinking?
Whatever emotional connection she thought they shared was assuredly one-sided.
If she stuck around until he awoke, the situation would become awkward. She
should leave while she still had her dignity intact and pretend the night meant
as little to her as it undoubtedly meant to him.

A
heavy knot like a stone weight filled her chest. Afraid of spending too much
time evaluating her emotional state, she picked up her shoes and moved quietly
to the door.

Outside
in the bright morning sun, she walked briskly toward the metro station. Their
time together didn’t end how she’d wanted, but it had still been memorable in a
way she’d never imagined when she left home last night.

With
a crooked smile, she made a silent admission.

Best.
Birthday. Ever.

*
* * *

“Derrick’s
here,” Gwen said as Celeste hustled to the beverage stand in the main dining
room of Sig’s Cigar Bar & Restaurant. Derrick Hoffman, her friend and
regular customer, never came in on Saturdays, but his visit was a pleasant
surprise. She expected the usual large tip.

She’d
been running late for her shift but managed to get there on time, change into
her uniform, and clock in with a minute to spare. Management stressed the
importance of the hostesses (as they were called) to be clocked in on time without
fail and ready to work each shift. That included having their hair pulled back
into a neat ponytail and being dressed in their uniform, which consisted of
black pumps, a black miniskirt, and a white tank top. Gwen had convinced both
her and Janet to apply for positions at Sig’s, and despite her initial doubts,
the job turned out to be a good choice. It was still a struggle, but thanks to
Sig’s, she could support her mother and her young daughter.