‘I sincerely hope not.’
Vivienne’s stomach did a little somersault. She knew exactly what he was referring to and the thought excited her unbearably. Dear heaven, she was turning into a sex addict. She had to do something, say something to get her mind off the subject.
‘Jack,’ she said abruptly.
He swallowed a mussel with relish before looking up at her. ‘Yep?’ he said, and dabbed at his mouth with a serviette.
Oh, God. Why did he have to do that? She stared at his somewhat hard mouth and thought of the pleasure it gave her. All of it: lips; teeth; tongue. But especially his tongue. She could feel it now, licking, stabbing, sliding inside her.
The heat her thoughts evoked made her squeeze her thighs and buttocks tightly together. Dear heaven, she almost came then. Putting down her fork, she straightened her spine against the back of the chair, forcing herself to get a firm grip on her wayward flesh.
‘I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about Francesco’s Folly today?’ she asked, always having found work a welcome distraction when her emotions threatened to get out of hand. ‘Do you know when I might be able to move in there and start work?’
‘Good news there. Things should be finalised by the end of next week. You can move in as soon as you like after that.’
‘And my contract?’
‘I’ll draw one up for you before that. Which reminds me—I’ve contacted a builder I know who’s going to do the actual work. He’s reliable and has lots of contacts in the area. Knows all the local tradies and building suppliers. I’ve been wondering, since you’ll be living on site, if you’d take on the job as project manager as well as interior decorator? I’ll pay extra, of course,’ he added, and forked in another mouthful of seafood.
‘How much extra?’
He smiled. ‘Lots.’
‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug which belied her crippling sexual tension. Talking about work hadn’t distracted her at all!
‘Good. Now, eat up. Nothing worse than cold pasta.’
She did her best. But her appetite still lay elsewhere. She watched Jack tuck into his meal with relish whilst only picking at hers. She did eat the seafood, the pasta part remaining untouched. And she did drink the wine. Most of the bottle; Jack told her he never had more than one glass when driving. By the time Jack pushed his own empty plate aside, the alcohol had driven out any feelings of nerves, leaving her with nothing but the most dizzying need.
‘Not hungry?’ he said as he wiped his mouth again with his serviette.
Vivienne swallowed the last mouthful of wine. ‘Not really,’ she said.
‘Do you want anything more to drink? A Cognac? Coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’
He looked hard at her, then nodded.
‘Fine,’ he said, and waved the waiter over.
Five minutes later they were out in the very cool night air, Vivienne shivering as Jack took her elbow and steered her towards the small car park behind the restaurant. His Porsche was parked over in a dimly lit corner, next to a red Mercedes.
‘You must be cold,’ he said, walking quickly.
Vivienne wouldn’t have been as cold if she hadn’t felt so hot. She frowned when he steered her round to the driver’s side into the small gap between the car and a solid wooden fence.
‘This’ll have to do,’ he said gruffly, and pushed her back up against the car door. ‘I can’t wait till we get back to my place, Vivienne. You must know that. Drop that bag and kick off your shoes,’ he ordered her in a low, gravelly voice.
She did so, then stood there, still shivering, with her back against the car whilst his hands scooped up under her skirt and yanked both her panties and tights down in one rough movement. They joined her bag on the ground.
‘Hold your skirt up to your waist,’ he commanded.
She did so, shocked by her blind obedience to him. She heard voices nearby, but she knew she wouldn’t drop her skirt. Not unless he told her to. Which he didn’t. He just stared at her, then touched her between her quivering thighs, pushing them aside, then delving into the hot, wet core of her sex. She moaned softly, then not so softly. Thank God the voices had gone, because the whole world could have come to watch her and she would not have stopped.
She was perilously close to coming when he stopped and dropped to his knees before her. With a strangled cry she spread her legs wider, her knees bending slightly to give his mouth better access to her by then desperate body. The feel of his tongue stabbing mercilessly against her throbbing clitoris was more than she could bear, and she was unable to smother the tortured cry of release which immediately erupted from her panting mouth.