Decisions V

The view was incredible, the food delicious, the wine superb, the atmosphere relaxed yet elegant, the companionship … perfect.

Bill had really outdone himself, Laura mused as she watched him finish off his second glass of wine. After the day she’d had, after tentatively saving the last of the endangered education initiatives in the budget talks, this had been a wonderful way to unwind and celebrate success.

“Thank you for this,” she said softly, peering over the rim of her own glass and smiling.

He didn’t say a word, just set his glass aside and smiled gently at her. He exuded a sort of happiness that she was coming to associate only with him — one of self satisfaction without being smug. It was because he’d made her happy and he knew it.

She’d been so surprised to come back to her office and find him in a fresh change of clothes, even more surprised to find he’d brought some for her as well … well, more what he’d brought her to wear, and that he’d braved looking through her clothes to find something appropriate for the evening. He was smart, had gone for basic black all across the board, which was rarely inappropriate for an evening out.

His choice had gone over well with the young women in her office as well, who, she suspected, had deliberately waited around the office for her to change. Laura had actually blushed at hearing their compliments, then at Bill’s reaction, seeing him rise to his feet and look her over head to toe in obvious appreciation, a desirous affection swimming in eyes the uniquest of blues.

He had looked at her like that all evening and still was, that intense gaze watching her take a sip of wine, drifting along the line of her throat as she swallowed. She felt her skin flush along that path, down to her chest, where his attention lingered just long enough to let her know that the look was deliberate.

She smiled at him when his eyes returned to hers and she uncurled her index finger from the globe of her glass and wagged it at him knowingly.

He glanced down and away, the corner of his mouth drawing deeper.

Gods, he looked so sexy when he did that. He was the only man she knew who could look both confident and shy at the same time, and it was incredibly alluring when he did. It made her want to kiss that shyness to hunger — and she knew she could, and that particular power over such an intensely collected and passionate man was one hell of an aphrodisiac for her.

Her eyes moving over him, she could already feel that luscious hair of his between her fingers, soft and thick, cool and sleek. Already, she could taste his mouth, his flavor mixed with the pungent warmth of the wine and feel his breaths hot and gentle, growing rapid and labored, heavy with desire. Already, she knows the strength in his body, the muscled expanse of his back, the contours of his chest, the adored protruding of his belly, the heavy thickness of his arms and thighs, all of it hers to explore and love, all of it for her pleasure.

She was glad they were staying at the hotel tonight, that it was only three blocks away, a short walk. She wanted him, to touch him and kiss him, to make love with him, to claim, her desire taking on a decidedly primal edge as she thought about searching his body with lips and hands until she found a spot she could suckle on until she marked him as hers.

She’d never really wanted that before, to make a man hers. With Richard, it had been impossible and her feelings for him hadn’t run that way anyhow. They hadn’t run that way for anyone else either, save maybe when she was a girl with a juvenile crush or two. But as a woman, there was Bill and only Bill who she’d wanted solely for herself, to claim sexually as she had admittedly claimed him in every other way.

That was a powerful and irresistible desire, one that rose so suddenly it took her breath away. He knew it, too, those deep-blue eyes all-knowing, all-seeing as he watched her, so serene, as if he wasn’t afraid or surprised at all that she wanted to devour him, as if he’d just been waiting patiently for her to realize it.

Her insides rippling with anticipation, her breaths shallow and soft, she watched him rise, took his hand when he held it out to her. She let him guide her to her feet then over to the dance floor, easing them smoothly into the rhythm of the music.

One hand in his, the other curling around his shoulder, she followed his lead as he skillfully moved them around and amongst the other couples for a song or two, his body pressed close to hers, close enough for her to feel his heat, the rise and fall of his chest, the beginnings of his desire. Close enough to kiss him, she realized looking at his mouth.

Something about his bottom lip made it entirely kissable and she wanted to kiss it, to tug it gently with her own lips, to suck it, caress it with the tip of her tongue. She wanted him to open his mouth to her and let her tongue in to find his, to stroke it, suckle it and coax it slowly into her own mouth.

While she thought about those things, he leaned closer, pausing when his mouth was hovering over hers. He lingered there, just barely out of reach and it made her sex grow heavy and her heart pound. Then he kissed her, soft and lingering, his lips touching hers just long enough to make her want him even more, just enough to make her want it to continue and deepen.

Eyes closed, she pressed her cheek to his, whispering low and quiet as her fingers threaded into his hair, cradling the back of his head, “You’re good at that.”

“What’s that?” he rumbled and she thought she would melt at hearing his voice directly in her ear, at feeling his breath rush warm across her skin, and the press of his textured cheek to her own.

She nuzzled closer, her nose sliding along his neck to draw in his scent. “Seducing me,” she breathed and his answering hum and tender kiss to her cheek had her body rising against his with growing want.

They needed to leave now.

“Bill,” she breathed as she drew back to meet his gaze. She didn’t need to say anything more. The look in his eyes told her what she needed to know, that he understood, that he wanted her, too.

They eased from the dance floor and back to their table long enough to pay the bill then retrieved her coat for her from the coat check. He helped her put it on before they ventured to the elevator and down.

She stood in the circle of his arm as it descended, hyperaware of the heat of him, of the desire she felt for and from him. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead for fear she would succumb to it, but she couldn’t resist looking over to see if he was struggling, too.

When she turned her head, she found him already looking at her and coming closer. “Yes,” she heard herself gasping out on a rushed breath, then she was humming, her eyes falling shut as his mouth captured hers softly … so, so softly. He drew back a little and she followed him, knowing he was baiting her and not caring that he was.

She wanted this, wanted him. So she kissed him again, breathily, lips skimming over his, caressing feather-light, enticing him back to kiss her more fully. He responded just as she wanted him to, making her moan, making her insides flutter with excitement.

Her head was spinning by the time the elevator reached the bottom floor. She curled her hand into his coat and leaned into him as they exited and headed out of the building, picking up her security agents in the lobby.

They followed her and Bill as they walked back to the hotel, keeping a discreet distance, allowing them privacy, but not as much as she would have preferred, considering how she felt. Sliding her hand down, she took consolation in the feeling of Bill’s warm fingers folding around hers, in the comfortably brisk pace he set to keep them from getting too cold from the night air.

They passed a young couple on a bench sharing the kind of kiss she wanted to give him and whispered his name once they were again in a shadow between street lamps.

His response? A soft “I know.”

They closed the distance and her desire surged when she caught sight of the front entrance of the hotel. Her body hummed with it, her thoughts were saturated with memories and possibilities.

Somehow, she held herself together on the next elevator ride. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his arm, then farther, until her head and shoulders rested against the wooden panel of the lift car. In her bones, she felt the vibration of the mechanism that made it work. In her flesh, she felt a different vibration altogether, one that grew to eclipse the other as he moved ‘round in front of her and brought his body full against hers, pressing her to the wall.

The wet, warmth of his mouth on her neck made her moan, sent her hands over his back and shoulders, up into his hair. She drew him closer still, leaning her head against his, every part of her yearning for contact, for a connection with him.

Gods, she loved him.

He drew away at the sound of the bell signaling their floor and led her down the corridor to their room. He unlocked the door and she stepped inside, kicking her shoes away carelessly into the room then dropping her coat from her shoulders. It fell into the floor with a heavy thump and she left it where it lay, reaching for the zipper that ran along the side seam of her dress as she advanced into the darkness of their suite.

With experienced tugs, she pulled her dress down her body, stepping out of it when it pooled around her ankles. Her bra followed, cast onto the couch in the sitting area. Her panties went … somewhere.

A lamp clicked on behind her and she turned to see Bill shedding his jacket, dropping it atop her own, which lay in a heap. Next, came the holstered gun, carefully removed from his belt and set on an end table in the sitting area of their suite.

He moved in front of the sofa, unbuttoning his shirt, eyes locked on her. Intense and hot, his gaze seared her skin, set her blood on fire, but it was his fingers she watched as they pushed each button from its hole.

She wanted to see him, needed to see him, to look at what was hers and marvel that she would have once been stupid enough to find him unattractive when he was actually beautiful in the character of his body. When he was actually devastatingly and unapologetically masculine, that rare and perfect mix of strength and tenderness, of confidence without ego.

And he was hers, all hers, every inch of him, and she wanted to see.

She went to him, hungry and needful, hands aching and trembling with the need to touch him, to help him. She circled behind him and drew his shirt down his arms and off, pitching it onto the sofa before reaching for the already-rising fabric of his undershirt. The material, so soft in her hands, was warm from his skin and smelled of him, of his soap and cologne. The scents rushed over her as the air stirred with the rising of his arms and movements to rid himself of the garment.

Closing her eyes, she put her hands on him, laying them against his sides, then gliding them across to his spine and up to feel the undulation of muscles under his hot, smooth skin.

“Bill,” she breathed, as she swooped her palms back down and around to cover his pectorals. She hugged him to her, moaning and rubbing his nipples with her fingers while pressing her breasts against his back. Her brow coming to rest against the back of his neck, one thought ran through her head … mine.

Her body jerked with the wave of desire that possessive thought spawned and she bit him, her teeth lightly gripping his flesh then releasing with an urgent request whispered hotly against the top of his spine.

“Please say you’re mine.”

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