I took a guess. “You’re a friend of James’s, aren’t you?”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment and sipped his drink.
Frustrated by his silence and growing tired of his games, I walked over to the music system and fiddled with it for a moment until I found what I wanted. The driving beat changed the mood in the room from thick with untapped desire and tension to one where I was in control.
“You asked for a dance, and that’s what I’m here for. Nothing else. I don’t have to kiss you or touch you.” I spoke more bravely than I felt because there wasn’t anything I wanted more than to have him put those hands on me.
His smile remained faint, almost mocking. “I never said I wanted to kiss you.”
My cheeks burned at his words, and in that moment I hated him and wanted to hurt him. “I’ve kissed a lot of guys. Maybe you think ’cause you’re rich, I’ll lie and say you’re better than everyone else. I don’t play those games.”
He set his glass down and stood, his movements fluid and quick, surprising me once again. He plucked a fresh red rose from the vase on the table and joined me by the music system. The room shrank down in size until it was him and me staring at each other with our hearts in our eyes.
“Then what game are you playing?” He reached out and trailed his fingers across my jaw, leaving a line of fire behind his light, teasing touch.
“I-I’m not.”
His fingers grazed my chin and dipped into the curve of my cheek. The velvet rose petals glided against my shoulder. My unsteady breathing roared in my ears, and I wanted to both run away and crush my lips to his.
“You’re the one playing games. Watching me all these months. Sending gifts. Refusing to tell me your name—”
“Rhoades.” He stopped me midsentence. “My name is Rhoades. Rhoades MacKenzie.”
Giving me his name made it more personal between us. The music swirled its beat around us as we stood in that room, our bodies inches apart. Men put their hands on me all the time, and it meant nothing—merely a way to let them think they knew me. But no one did. For as much as I danced half-naked, I hid my heart.
“Well, Rhoades. Do you want that dance now?”
He nodded, and I drew the tie off his neck, draping it around my own. The long silken tails caressed my stomach.
“Thank you for the presents. I want you to know I appreciate it.” I smoothed my hands down my chest and abdomen. “I’m wearing one of the oils now. Sandalwood.” I rocked my pelvis and thrilled at his dark, ravenous gaze. “It smells like you.”
Bolder now, I pushed my hands against his chest. “Sit down so I can do this right.”
He circled my wrist with his hand, and I shivered at its strength, knowing he could crush my bones beneath his fingers. “Everything you do is right.” He dropped my hand and returned to sit on the sofa. I followed him and he sat back, legs stretched out. That devouring stare never left my face, and I swayed before him. He handed me the rose then, and I took it automatically, bringing it to my nose to sniff its rich scent.
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” I straddled him and began to dance. The fine wool of his suit brushed my skin, and heat poured off his muscular thighs. I didn’t dare grind down against his lap, fearing if I touched him, I might lose all willpower.
“Then you haven’t been with the right men.” He placed his hands on my hips, his touch on my naked flesh shocking me. Rhoades’s thumbs tickled my hip bones, and my breath caught as an unaccustomed yet undeniable wave of lust slammed into me. I grew hard under his gentle touch, my surprised gaze flying to his even as I couldn’t help but rock my hips. Seeking. Needing.
“You’re so hard inside that jockstrap, aren’t you?” His eyes narrowed when I didn’t answer. “Aren’t you? Hard and wet. I bet it’s soaked right through.” He inched lower until his fingertips slid along the elastic of my shorts. I wanted to tell him to stop. To not touch me there. But I couldn’t speak the lie. I wanted those strong hands on my body, wrapped around my cock. I bit back a whimper of frustration at my capitulation and remained silent.
“You don’t have to answer. I can tell. I can smell how much you want me.” He breathed deep, and his thick cock swelled beneath my legs. “Do you know how much I want you? How many nights I sat watching you dance, your body moving with the grace of a swan gliding in the water?” His voice took on a hypnotic quality, entrancing me even as his fingers teased my burning skin.
“I imagined how smooth your skin would feel under my fingers. Like the finest silk.” He rubbed the top of my groin, and I shuddered. “Your hair here too would be soft and silky to the touch. My touch. And I thought about how I’d like to put my mouth on you here.” He circled my pubes with his index finger. “Taste you.” His fingers slid under my shorts, and a triumphant smile lit his face as he discovered how wet that jock truly was.
“Your lips would open, and I’d slide my tongue inside your mouth and you’d suck it. Your mouth is made for love.”
He left my shorts and touched my mouth, playing along the plumpness of my lower lip. My breath came fast, and I sighed as his finger slid inside. My tongue licked and suckled his finger, and he slowly pumped it in and out of my mouth. Never would I have imagined this to be me: perched on a man’s lap, holding a rose, sucking his finger, breathless with passion.
“Beautiful.” He withdrew his finger, and I panted, no longer ashamed. My body felt curiously free yet tense with a thrumming need running beneath my skin. I dropped the rose on Rhoades’s lap and put my hands on his shoulders, light-headed with desire.
Rhoades pulled my head down to his and spoke against my mouth. “I want to kiss you.” My lips throbbed where he touched them, and this time I couldn’t silence my groan.
The first touch was gentle…like a feather brushing my skin.
“Please,” I whispered, unsure what I was begging for but needing whatever he would give me. “Please.” He lay back on the sofa and took me with him in his arms.
In his deliberate, unhurried manner, Rhoades kept his kisses light and soft at first as if to gauge my reaction. When I didn’t protest, he delved deeper, his kisses turning fierce and possessive. I quivered and pressed my mouth harder to his, clutching the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. The shock of Rhoades’s lips on my skin lit my body on fire, and I writhed in his arms. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and I touched mine to his. It couldn’t have been more wrong…what I was doing. Others might do back-door sexual favors, but not me. The first thing James warned us all about was that we shouldn’t get so intimate with a client. Yet every sweep of Rhoades’s tongue and brush of his hands on my skin made me feel real, important, worthy. Not that I needed him for that, but his respect for me, his obvious pleasure in my body gave me power.
