The Ruthless Caleb Wilde
Page 94
Caleb poured a few drops of his drink over her belly, then licked it away.
Sage gasped. Her hand shook.
“That’s why,” he said.
She put her glass on the table. He let some more of the liquid drip on her. Lower. And lower. Lower still, until he nuzzled her thighs apart.
“Now this,” h
e said thickly, “this is a definite improvement over herbal tea.”
Sage whispered his name.
“I love the taste of you here,” he said thickly. “And the scent. I love—”
She cried out.
One last taste of her. One last kiss. Then his champagne flute fell, forgotten, to the carpet. He rose up, kissed her mouth and sank into her.
The whirlwind caught them up again, spun them off the edge of the world until he collapsed in her encircling arms.
When their breathing finally slowed, he gathered her close, rolled onto his side holding her, and they tumbled into sleep.
They showered in the enormous glass shower stall.
Sage announced that the bathroom really was twice the size of her entire apartment. And the hot water didn’t give out after just a few minutes, a very good thing because it lasted enough for Caleb to say, “Here, let me do that,” take the sea sponge from her hand, and bathe her with it.
Every sweet inch of her, from top to bottom.
He dried her, too, with a fluffy white bath sheet as they stood beneath the heat lamps.
She gasped as he dried places that required extra tender care, as he kissed her and teased her with his mouth, his hands, his fingers.
Then it was her turn to dry him. To tease him. Explore him, until one touch led to another, one kiss to another …
He carried her back to bed. She wrapped her legs around his hips.
“Caleb,” she gasped.
“Yes,” he groaned, “yes …”
Later, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
When they awoke, the sky was black. Central Park wore the city’s fabled skyline like a necklace of diamonds.
“I,” Caleb said, “am hungry enough to eat a—”
“Fried cheese sandwich with a fried hot dog on the side?”
He grinned, told her to be careful what she wished for, sat up and reached for the phone.
They put on the terry-cloth robes again. A waiter brought their dinner; Caleb met him at the sitting-room door, thanked him, tipped him extravagantly and said he’d take over from here.
He didn’t want to share this night with anyone.
He wheeled the serving cart to the windows. Dragged over a pair of chairs. Sage lifted the silver lids from the plates and platters.
Grilled steaks. Tiny roasted red potatoes. Baby carrots and asparagus slender as toothpicks.