This had to be a dream.
But if it was a dream surely she would remember going home? Surely her every sense wouldn’t be on high alert?
Then it all came flooding back. The bar, the elevator, the car ride to his place. Everything. In all its flaming hot glory. And in spite of her clothed discomfort she felt her body heat; her breasts flushed and her clit came alive.
He was exquisite. Even in the dusky light she could sense his power, feel his appeal...
His jacket lay across the arm of the chair, his forearm resting upon it. His other arm was folded, his hand curving over his inner thigh, his trouser-clad legs relaxed and spread. Open and vulnerable. The sight did things to her, things with a potency that almost scared her, and she flexed her fists into the bunched-up fabric of the sheets.
How could one man have this much effect? She should have been sated and at ease now. Ready to throw her all back into normality and sneak away. No need for goodbyes. They’d both got what they wanted. But...
Her eyes travelled up the length of him, pausing over the open collar of his shirt where the top four buttons lay undone. Her throat dried at the exposed hint of chest, the arousing arch to his neck as he fell back against the curve of the chair, his chest falling rhythmically with his gentle snores.
Fascinated, she folded back the bed covers and planted her feet to the floor, inwardly wincing as her imprisoned toes made painful contact with the ground.
She dipped to remove one shoe and then the other, her toes curling blissfully into the plush fabric of the bedside rug as she smiled.
Had he thought it too intimate to remove them while she slept? Did he not care that her heels had likely damaged his expensive bed linen?
Pushing off the bed, she padded towards him, not really knowing what she was about and half expecting him to awake at any second and pin her with that desire-provoking gaze.
But he didn’t move. His breathing remained heavy and even, each raspy intonation teasing at her senses.
As she came to a halt above him her gaze
fell to the side table. His mobile, an unfinished glass of what looked to be whisky and her clutch resided there. She glanced at her watch—it was three-thirty in the morning. It was time she left. But even as she thought it her body balked. The idea of leaving without enjoying him one last time, of resisting the desire already burning, was too much.
Beads of perspiration pricked between her breasts and across the back of her neck. Her skin was clammy and her dress made her feel claustrophobic from sleeping in it. The need to be out of it had her hands taking up the hem and pulling it over her head.
The cool air swept across her skin, over her exposed nape as her hair was lifted away, and a delightful shiver ran down her spine.
She couldn’t leave.
Not yet...
Letting the dress slip from her fingers, she stepped forward, her knees coming up against the chair-edge between his legs. She leaned forward, placing one hand on the chair-arm while the other brushed away the hair that had fallen across his forehead, her eyes scanning his beautiful face.
Stunning even when in slumber, this man could ruin all her best laid plans if she gave him the chance, she was sure of it.
But a last goodbye... Where was the harm?
Lowering her mouth to his, she brushed her lips against him, tasting the whisky on his breath and repeating the move. His lips gave way beneath her coaxing pressure and she dipped her tongue inside. He was yummy—all warm, whiskyed up and tantalising to her senses.
His eyes fluttered, his hand twitched and then his eyes opened, wide and surprised. ‘Jennifer?’
‘Shh...’ she said, pressing her index finger to his mouth and loving the heated firmness beneath her touch. She dropped her head to flick her tongue out, let it probe alongside her finger, tasting him, teasing him.
He tried to move beneath her, his hands coming up to take hold of her waist, his touch searing through her skin, but she wasn’t ready for him to take control.
‘Stay,’ she commanded, raising her head to gaze down at him, her hands pressing into his shoulders as she pinned him back in the chair.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark and glittering in the low light, his entire body rigid as he succumbed to her will, freed her so she could focus on the fastened buttons of his shirt. One by one she undid them, all the while her eyes fixed on his.
And he watched her, his gaze burning into her eyes, her lips, the valley of her chest, then moving down to the V of her legs as she stood before him, his hands shifting to caress the lace band of her stockings with mesmerising intent.
She tugged the shirt out of his trousers, releasing the last of his buttons and parting the fabric for her hungry eyes. Her mouth like sandpaper, she took in each exposed inch, stroking the shirt off his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin burning through her fingertips, his muscles rippling beneath her caress. The only sound in the room was their elevated breathing, and her ears were attuned to every hitch in his as she traced her fingers over him, toying with the smattering of hair across his pecs, her thumbs circling each puckered nipple before travelling lower.
He sucked in a breath, his anticipation clear, and she smiled, her fingers closing over his trouser fastening. No belt this time. One less hurdle. Popping the button free, she worked the zip, her hands brushing his hardness with their movement and sending her clit on a frenzied dance.