‘Hey,’ he said, bending to kiss her eyes. ‘Have mercy.’
She laughed and reached up to caress his cheek with the back of her fingers. ‘I’m glad we didn’t have a big seduction scene. It was so good as it was.’
‘And will be again, I hope.’
‘Oh, I know it will,’ she said, so emphatically that Will laughed.
‘You’re an amazing girl, you know that?’
‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ She sat up and pulled the sheet up over her breasts. ‘Why don’t you open the champagne now?’
‘Not if you’re going to cover yourself like that,’ Will said positively. Reaching over, he jerked the sheet from her hold and pulled it down again. ‘This, my darling, is no time for prudery. And besides,’ he added, his voice thickening, ‘you’re much too gorgeous to hide yourself away.’
Kneeling up, he cupped her breasts in his hands, his mouth slowly parting with concentration and growing concupiscence as he watched the rose hue of the areolae darken and the nipples thrust against his exploring fingers. ‘Look how beautiful you are,’ he murmured thickly, his eyes wide with reawakened desire. ‘Can you wonder that I can’t resist you? Look. Look for yourself.’
Slowly, with almost reluctant shyness, Paris lowered her eyes to look at her breasts. His hands, his skin dark against the whiteness of hers, held her tenderly. Her breasts had the firm elasticity of youth, were still small and perfect, and yet they seemed to fill his hands, to fit them perfectly.
As she watched, fascinated now, he moved his thumbs to circle gently the tender area around her nipples, touching nerve-ends, sending fires of frustration deep into her body. She had heard of eroticism, knew that these were among the most sensitive parts of her womanhood, but she had never known such sensual delight as she felt now.
To watch him toying with her, to feel the growing need inside her, to let her panting breath become a long groan of frustration, and to know from the tension in his hands and the sweat on his skin that Will felt the same way was the most exquisitely sexy moment she had ever known.
Still kneeling, as if in adoration, Will bent to kiss her breasts, sending shock waves of sensuality pulsing through her. Throwing back her head, Paris let out a low, animal moan of tormented pleasure. Coming up on her own knees, she held his head against her, crying out with the wonder of it.
Will at last lifted his head and looked at her, his breath an unsteady, panting groan of almost uncontrolled expectation. Paris’s face was flushed with heat, her mouth parted and her lips trembling, her eyes great green pools of eager desire.
‘Paris.’
He said her name again on a note of wonder but she mistook it for a question and said, ‘Yes. Oh, yes, yes!’
Putting his hands on her hips, he drew her towards him, onto his lap, onto his manhood. She let out a great cry and put her arms round him, wanting to be closer and yet closer still, wanting to be a part of him, to take the intense pleasure he gave her and to give in return.
Afterwards they slept exhaustedly, tangled in the sheets, their arms around one another. During the night Will woke her with kisses and they made love again, so that it wasn’t until the morning that they finally got round to opening the champagne and had it with breakfast instead.
PARIS and Will returned to London on Sunday evening, parting reluctantly outside her flat. Their weekend of love, of satiated sexuality was still in the glow in her eyes, in her flushed cheeks. Emma saw it and recognised it at once.
Her finely arched brows rose. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been considering your verdict all this time?’
‘No, we reached a decision on Friday. I’ve—er—been away.’
‘With a man, obviously.’
‘Yes,’ Paris admitted, unable to keep from smiling.
Emma looked amused. ‘So what was the verdict?’
‘Guilty on all counts.’
‘I meant on the man.’
‘Oh.’ Paris glowed. ‘Marvellous! Fantastic! Incredible.’
‘Good heavens! This man I’ve got to meet.’
There was a slight edge to Emma’s voice, but Paris was too happy to notice it. ‘And I want you to meet him; I’m sure you’ll like each other,’ she said with happy optimism.
She was still happy the next day when she went back to the office, eager to resume her interrupted career. Will was due to work out at the gym that evening and she had lots of chores to catch up on, so they’d agreed not to meet, but they might just as well have done because they spent ages on the phone, already missing each other, whispering words of intimacy that tantalised them both.
The next evening Will came to collect her and she introduced him to Emma, confident that they would like each other. Emma was friendly enough—very friendly really, making Will welcome and telling him, with that amused little smile she had, how Paris had described him. ‘So of course I’ve been really looking forward to meeting a man with all these incredible attributes,’ she finished.
But Will only gave her a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes, refused a drink and asked Paris if she was ready to leave.
‘What did you tell her about me?’ he asked as soon as they were outside.
‘Only that I thought you were wonderful,’ Paris admitted. ‘I didn’t go into details, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘She certainly made it sound as if you had.’
‘Emma was probably teasing you. I wouldn’t tell anyone. You should know that.’ She put her arm through his and lifted a glowing face. ‘It’s very, very special to me.’
Will smiled at that and kissed her, so she knew it was all right, but it was obvious that he didn’t like Emma.
They didn’t go out, instead spending the evening at his flat. Even though they had spent most of the previous weekend making love, it was still novel, still overwhelmingly exciting. Paris felt no shyness now as she undressed Will, doing it slowly, touching and kissing him, running her hands over his broad, smooth chest, along the muscles in his upper arms, so powerful, so male.
His waist was slim and his stomach had the tautness of an athlete’s even when relaxed. But it tightened even more under her exploring fingers; she could feel the tension running through his body, the slow dew of expectation on his skin, hear the quickened beat of his heart. Paris let her hands move on in their exploration, stroking, caressing, until his arousal was complete and Will groaned with pleasure.
He would have taken her in his arms then, but she made him sit on a chair and watch as she took off her own clothes, doing so as coquettishly as she could imagine, watching with growing excitement as he gripped the edge of the chair until his knuckles showed white and he strove to control his need for her, then giving a cry of delight when he could stand it no longer and surged up to grab her and carry her to the bed in one long, eager stride.
Later, Will dragged himself from the bed, dressed, and went out for a Chinese take-away, which took a long time to eat because they kept stopping to kiss and, as Paris was wearing only a bathrobe, quite a lot of caressing went on as well. So it was inevitable that they just pushed the plates away and made love all over again.
Paris was on cloud nine hundred and ninety-nine, but they became rain clouds only a few days later. It was at work that things started to go wrong. During her time with the company Paris had worked hard to find new markets for their products