Midnight At Tiffany's (From Manhattan with Love 0.50)

She eased away slightly, her eyes wide. “You’re inviting me back with you to drink champagne?”

“And other things.”

“Are you always this impulsive?

”

“I’m always this decisive.”

He waited for her to refuse.

It was crazy. He knew it was crazy. He’d met her a few hours earlier and he was always cautious in his relationships. Most of them originated from convenience. He needed a date; there were a large number of willing, available females willing to fill the slot. He treated women the same way he treated his business decisions; weighed up pros and cons. He was thoughtful and measured. If risk wasn’t exactly removed, it was carefully considered. Life had taught him not to trust easily, but this was different, and not just because of the novelty of not being recognized. There was something unusually compelling about the attraction, as if they’d connected on a million different levels at once.

Even so, he wouldn’t blame her for refusing. It would be reckless for her to go with a man she didn’t know. It would be—

“How far is your apartment?”

Her gaze locked on his and he saw the nervous tension and excitement in her eyes.

And he saw something else. Something that made him take her hand and lead her away from the park. The rain started to fall more heavily and they ran the two blocks to his apartment, while cabs splashed through the puddles, streets shimmered and pedestrians fumbled for umbrellas.

They fell through the door of his building, dripping water onto the marble floor and laughter into the ridiculously constrained atmosphere of his apartment building. Fortunately, the doorman was engaged in deep conversation with someone and didn’t greet him by name as he led her to the elevator.

The moment the doors closed, they were kissing again.

He licked into her mouth thinking that nothing, no one, had ever tasted as good as she did.

She moaned and pressed closer to him. “I don’t do this.”

“I don’t do this, either.”

But they were both doing it now, matching each other kiss for kiss, touch for touch. They were hungry, desperate, driven by something neither of them paused to question.

Her dress was wet and plastered to her skin, revealing every curve of her body. They all but fell out of the elevator into his apartment, and he tugged the dress up to her waist, sliding his hands over bare skin. Her bag crashed to the ground, and he dragged the stretchy dress over her head, revealing the perfect length of her.

He allowed himself a moment to admire, and then he scooped her up in his arms, the hunger in him so intense he couldn’t think straight.

Her shoes fell with a clatter, but he stepped over them, aiming for the bedroom.

It proved too far, so he compromised and made it to the sofa.

Her hands pushed at his clothes until he was naked, too, with just enough coherent thought left to reach for his wallet.

He fumbled with the foil packet, clumsy as he felt her legs, those long, incredible legs, wrap around his waist and urge him close.

He cursed softly. “Wait a moment, just a moment, shit, Lara—”

She stilled, her eyes huge as she looked up at him.

He sensed that he’d said something, but he had no idea what and his brain couldn’t focus while her breasts were brushing against the hairs on his chest and her legs were wrapped around him, drawing him closer to her soft heat.

With a groan he entered her, trying to be gentle, to take his time, to be careful, but heat overwhelmed everything and he heard her soft moan, her words of encouragement as her hands slid to his shoulders. The kiss they shared grew more erotic, deeper, and he dragged his mouth from hers and dropped his head to her shoulder, trying to breathe, trying to slow things down, but the sweet, honeyed taste of her stayed with him like a drug he was never going to be able to clear from his system.

He felt her arch against him, heard her soft voice urging him on, begging him in soft, whispering breaths not to stop what he was doing as he slid his hands over her, exploring the lush delicacy of her slender curves, absorbing the incredible feel of being inside her. She smelled like summer, like flowers in full bloom, and the heady fragrance combined with her smooth, soft skin nearly drove him crazy.

Pleasure thickened and spread and he drove into her, deeper this time, swallowing the sounds she made, tasting the heat of desire on her lips. It burned both of them, raw and real, and she urged him on, wrapped those legs round him and arched into him, while all the time she whispered how much she wanted him. He felt the ripples of her body tightening along his shaft, her body triggering his own release. He thrust deep and dropped his head onto her shoulder, consumed by his own shuddering pleasure. His last coherent thought was that he had no idea a woman could do this; take a man apart completely, and leave him feeling undone.

MATILDA LAY ON the sofa, her head on his chest.