Betrayed (Dark Desires 2)

“Are you seeing anyone now?”

I slowly shook my head. “No. I’m not seeing anyone now.” I picked up my wine glass and leaned back to take a sip. “What about you? What’s your life story?”

Sean picked up his glass and leaned back, mirroring my posture. Our bodies seemed to have their own silent conversation going, apart from our brains. Sean took a long sip of wine and slowly licked his lips. My eyes focused on his tongue as it worked its way around.

“Well, let’s see. I grew up right here in the city, the only child of a close-knit Irish couple. My dad was an old school Irish businessman. We had money but didn’t show it off. Happy childhood, no therapy required. High school athlete, college at NYU, law degree from Harvard, and here we are.”

“Wow,” I said, leaning into the table again and sounding impressed. “You have a law degree from Harvard. Why aren’t you practicing at some big law firm rather than working at an import/export business?” I saw his face darken a little at the question. “I mean, I didn’t mean to be condescending, I was just…”

“It’s all right,” he said, patting the air with his palms. “I had planned to work at a big firm, but my dad needed help with the business. As I said, we’re a close-knit family. He needed my help and I could not turn him down.”

“That’s admirable,” I said, meaning it. “Putting your plans on hold to help your dad.”

“It’s what good Irish sons do,” he said, taking on a thick Irish brogue. He held up his wine glass. “Lest the good Irish guilt descend upon thee.”

I smiled and held up my glass. Taking a sip, I asked, “Do you ever regret your decision?”

He drained his glass and shrugged. “Regret is for people who had options.”

“What does that mean?”

Before he could answer, the server returned with dessert; a huge slice of cheesecake covered in fresh strawberries and drizzled with chocolate. I licked my lips and picked up my fork.

“I hope you like cheesecake,” Sean said.

“Yes, this looks wonderful.”

“Please, eat, enjoy,” Sean said. He glanced at the empty glass in his hand. “We need another bottle of wine.”

He got up to follow the server into the kitchen. A few minutes later I heard the front door open and close just as Sean was returning with a fresh bottle of wine.

“Did someone leave?” I asked.

“I told Jean Paul he could go,” he said, refilling my glass, then his. He set the wine bottle in the ice bucket on the side server and sat back down. He took a bite of his dessert and smiled at me as he licked his lips.

He said, “I told him I could take it from here.”

Claire

By the time dessert was gone, so was the second bottle of wine. I was a little drunk, but not as drunk as I pretended to be in front of Sean. I laughed a little louder and longer, spoke a little slower, tripped over a few words here and there, and gave him dreamy looks that were meant to be seductive. It had been so long since I had flirted with a man I wasn’t even sure that I was doing it right.

If Sean was tipsy, it didn’t show. He was smooth as silk, his speech clear and deliberate. His blue eyes were clear and bright. I loved the way he looked at me. I’d never felt more desirable.

After dinner, we took our wine glasses into the living room. Sean’s penthouse looked out over the city from the thirtieth floor. He had the balcony doors open. A gentle breeze rustled the sheer curtains at the sides of the doors.

As Sean fiddled with the stereo, I stepped out into the night air and leaned against the railing. I sipped the wine and looked out over the city. The street below was heavy with traffic that I could barely hear. The stars in the dark sky above looked closer than I’d ever seen them. It was as if we were on a cloud, floating high above the city.

So, this was how the other half lived. Proof of what I already knew: crime does pay. And when you’re Sean O’Connor it pays very well.

“Beautiful night,” Sean said, stepping out to stand next to me.

“Yes, it is,” I said, lifting my chin to breath in the cool night air. “Fall is in the air.”

“Are you chilly,” he asked, putting his hand on my arm.

“Just a little,” I said. “But I’m fine.”

“Here,” he said, peeling off his jacket and putting it around my shoulders. It was like a warm blanket going around me. I could smell his cologne on the jacket. I turned to face him as he tugged the jacket around me. His fingertips brushed against my neck. A little jolt of static electricity shot down my neck and arced its way across my nipples and down to my clit. My panties grew hot and moist between my legs. My knees felt weak. Maybe I was drunker than I thought. And much hornier.