Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I reach for my panties beneath my dress and ease them off. I reach out and take his hand, pushing them into his palm.
He takes them and sneaks a peek before sliding them into his suit pocket.
I’m biting my lip and flushing all over, laughing inwardly. “So it seems that casually dating also means recklessly flirting.”
“There’s nothing casual about anything relating to you, Sara.”
Our wine arrives. After Ian gives it his approval, the waiter pours me a glass. I smile and drink it, enjoying the evening. At Daniel. With the best wine. And the hottest man in the city.
“Watch the wine. I wouldn’t want you drunk before the first course.” He teases me after I’ve had two glasses.
“Of course not—you want me drunk by the last.”
He laughs and tuts flirtatiously, and I laugh too. A little too giddy.
“You were a gentleman that night,” I admit, then my eyes tease him. “Maybe in your own interests, too. I bet you’re so full of yourself, you don’t like doing a woman and having her forget. That wouldn’t do for your ego.”
“That’s right, Dancer. If I’ll be remembering and dedicating a few to that evening with you, the least you can do for me is remember and do the same.”
His smile is wolfish, and his stare penetrating, and I’m enjoying this far too much for it to be casual. Like Ian just said about me, there is nothing casual about this or my feelings for him. I try not to get too involved in the way he looks across the table. And the way his gaze stays focused on me.
“How are you liking your new home? Are you liking it better than the Four Seasons?” I ask him.
“I can’t say I do. No sexy concierge to lure to my bedroom.”
I smile again. How does this damn man do that?
“How was your friend’s business launch?” He sounds interested, sobering as he shifts forward in his seat.
“Phenomenal,” I say happily. “Orders exceeded our expectations and the service is spectacular. I ordered this little dress and what do you know. I found the box on my way into my apartment today.”
“Let’s have a look.”
“Like you didn’t look already.”
I blush but go ahead and stand and twirl; then I glance around to be sure I didn’t draw too much attention and sit back down. Ian smiles and takes my hand over the table. It’s so warm and large compared to mine that I feel as if he’s enveloped me whole.
“Did you purchase it thinking of putting it on, or me taking it off you?” His voice is husky now, intimate. Like the setting.
“A lady never tells her deepest musings.”
“Doesn’t she?” His thumb caresses mine as he smiles to himself, waiting for my reply.
“Who am I kidding? I’m no lady. I want you to take it off me tonight,” I admit in a sultry whisper. I lift his hand to my lips and kiss the knuckle of his thumb; then I lick it out of impulse.
I’m hungry. What can I say?
“Hands? Tongue? Teeth? How do you want me to take it off you?” He scrapes his thumb across my bottom lip, the caress causing my temperature to rise.
“All of them,” I admit.
He dips his thumb into my mouth again, extracting it when the waiter appears with our first course.
“Bon appétit,” says François, who accompanied him to the table. He leans close to Ian. “The lady has quite the eye for you.”
“François!” My fork clatters against my salad plate.
“I only say it, Miss Sara, because the gentleman has the eye for you. See, I know these things.” He winks.
I groan and shake my head. “Obviously that’s what we get for flirting so openly. People think this is serious.”
“That’s their problem. Not ours.” He eyes me. “I’m serious about that dress, though.”
* * *
“I enjoyed you tonight.”
“You’ll enjoy me even more in a bit,” I promise as we walk the streets of New York. It’s chilly, and I find myself pressing up against his side as he hails a cab.
“I got the sheets I promised. Pots and pans so you can make me some eggs in the morning,” he says in my ear as we walk to the curb.
“Right. You’ll be bringing me breakfast in bed.”
“It’s my bed. Little Sara.”
“That’s right and I’m the guest. That’s how guests should be treated.”
We both smile as he swings the back door of the cab open for me.
When we’re settled in the back, I run my fingers up his muscular thigh as we head to his townhome. “I want to fuck you upside down, sideways, and every way possible, Sara,” he says, turning my face to him.
I catch my breath and shift, stroking his erection as I tilt my head and press my breasts to the side of his chest. “Yes, please, and thank you,” I say in his ear.