“What do you think?” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, broad palms gently massaging away her tension.
And self-control.
“I’m thinking that maybe you believe sleeping with me might make for good publicity, or that you want the novelty of sleeping with an actress.” Had she actually said that? She hadn’t even known the fear existed until the words fell out of her mouth.
“Damn, lady, that’s a hefty load of insecurities.” He gave her shoulders a final squeeze before pulling his hands back. “Let’s unpack that one issue at a time.” He held up one finger. “First, I don’t need you or the damn press in order to be successful. I’m managing quite fine on my own. In fact, I could buy your family business twice over.” He ticked off a second finger. “Second, if I wanted novelty, there are other women I could turn to who wouldn’t accuse me of chasing them for their money.”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “You really aren’t lacking in ego.”
“Women chase me for my money. That’s nothing to be proud of.”
A hesitant smile tipped her mouth. “I really don’t have anything you need.”
“Now, there you’re wrong.” He stepped closer, his body totally flush against hers, his hard muscles a sweet temptation against her.
“I am?” she gasped, the musky scent of him swirling through her with that one breath.
“Since the second I saw you running down that hall, I have wanted to get closer to you. So much so that I’m damn near about to explode if I don’t get my mouth on some part of you soon.”
The intensity of his rumbling voice stroked her senses as artfully as his touch, his kiss, everything about this moment drugging her, dragging her away from any good intentions.
She knew he had a reputation with women, and in a strange way that made this encounter somehow safe. She didn’t have to worry about risking a relationship. Her heart wouldn’t be in jeopardy.
Casual affairs had never been her style, but then her life had never been this upside down. Why not take what she needed? What he so clearly wanted, too.
Maybe she’d been hoping for a little adventure when she’d taken the elevator up to his private suite tonight. But then, perhaps being wrapped in Sam Garrison’s arms was the balm her wounded spirit needed. And who better to seek this moment of mindless pleasure with than a man who knew all about the joys of hot, one-time encounters?
“Birth control?” she asked, that issue the last hurdle between her and jumping into his bed.
“In the other room.” His hand slid behind her back, anchoring her against him. “Is that a yes?”
She touched his face, her fingers testing his raspy five-o’clock shadow. “Yes, definitely yes.”
A low growl of appreciation his only response, he scooped her off her feet and carried her across the sitting area to the door ajar, leading into his bedroom. Dim lighting from the crystal chandelier showcased the king-size bed with a large painted panel of the French countryside over the bed.
The burgundy-and-gold brocade comforter was turned back invitingly. Champagne waited in a bucket by the bed along with chocolate-covered strawberries.
She thumped him on the shoulder lightly. “You were planning this all along when you placed the order for supper?”
“What can I say? I was hopeful as hell from the second you slammed into my chest wearing nothing more than a sheet.”
So he’d been hopeful. Yet he’d still given her plenty of chances to say no. He might be a player, but he was a player with honor.
Time to stop thinking.
Time to feel and forget.
Raising her face for his kiss, she smoothed her hands over his hair, finally allowing herself the indulgence of feeling its texture. Soft along the top, a bit bristly as his hair tapered off at his neck. She savored the pleasure of being kissed by a man who knew how to do it so beautifully well.
Beside the sprawling king-size bed, he lowered her to her feet, her toes nearly disappearing in the carpet. Her hands roved his back, the fine fabric of his shirt soft against her fingers, a thin barrier over the hard muscled expanse. A thin barrier she quickly unbuttoned and stroked away to reveal the cut of muscles, more defined than she’d imagined. And her imagination had been darn impressed.
What other pleasant surprises waited for her? He had far more clothes on than she did and she did not intend to be the only one naked in this room.
Desperation gripped her with a frantic need to soak up everything she could from her time with him. This was her amnesia drug of choice. A way to forget everything. A way to relieve the tension Henri had said riddled her muscles. She couldn’t imagine herself in a relationship anytime soon and she couldn’t see herself indulging in a string of meaningless encounters. This, Sam, could be her last chance for the sweet pleasure of a man’s bold stroke for quite a while to come.
He kissed his way down the sensitive curve of her neck, nudging aside her robe with his chin, only an inch. She’d expected him to whip away the belt quickly. Instead he took his time, lavishing attention in the curve of her shoulder.
“Faster,” she said, unbuckling his pants frantically as he toed off his shoes and socks.
“Slower,” he commanded, lowering her to the bed, sinking her into the downy fullness. Her robe parted. He froze for an instant before he exhaled hard. “I knew you were beautiful, and it’s obvious you have a great body, but damn. Just damn.”
Maybe he was only dishing out flattery to win her over…Hey wait, he didn’t have to win her over anymore. She was already naked and ready in his bed.
Unwilling to wait any longer, she arched up and hooked her thumbs in his waistband. “How about we get rid of those pants so I can enjoy you, too?”
His hands covered hers as she swept away his trousers and boxers, the bristly hair on his muscular thighs sending a shower of awareness stinging through her. She let her eyes rove him in a “wow” moment all her own. His broad shoulders spoke of strength beyond the boardroom, a strength she’d experienced firsthand when he’d so effortlessly carried her. She glanced back up to his angular face—handsome in a stark way—softened by an intriguing dimple in his chin.
In a flash of insight, she realized she’d chosen Ridley’s opposite. Other than dark hair, Sam shared little in common with her more wiry, smoothly good-looking ex-lover. She shoved away thoughts of another man.
No one and nothing else would intrude on this.
Sam tapped her on the shoulder lightly, encouraging her to fall back on the mattress. He snagged a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket beside the bed. Deftly, he popped the magnum, angling it over her body so the frothy overflow splashed along her stomach.
“Sam!” she squealed at the cold kiss of bubbles against her overheated flesh.
He dribbled champagne along her stomach. Cool droplets gleamed on her skin, sending a shiver through her. He dipped his head to taste and tease her with his tongue. Lower, lower and lower still he slowly dribbled a thin trail of amber liquid between her legs.
Wicked determination lit his eyes as he tasted her. Carefully, again and again, just enough to tease her higher without sending her over the edge.
He glanced up at her with heavy lidded eyes. “You make me drunk.”
“We didn’t have that much wine with dinner.” She wouldn’t be able to delude herself later that this had been an alcohol-induced mistake.
He gripped her hips, his naked body sliding up and over hers. “You misunderstand.