“Tell me about the mattress. Would you consider it firm or soft? I’m very particular about such things.”
“Of course you are.” Her attempt to be flippant didn’t fool either of them.
“I prefer firm. Too much give prevents me from getting deep…sleep. Lie down and tell me if you feel supported.”
As if her body took its commands directly from him, she slipped her shoes off and stretched out on the bed. The mattress groaned a little as she moved, so she suspected he knew she was doing as he asked, but he didn’t wait for her answer.
“Can you see your reflection?”
She looked up at the canopy. A glassy-eyed woman floated there against a satiny white ocean of bedspread. “I— Yes.” She could very easily see him there, too, a dark-haired predator in his deceptively refined suit, slowly making his way up her body, pushing her skirt out of his way, undoing her blouse…
“I’m getting the most fascinating picture of you, lying on my bed, your hair spilled across my pillow, your eyes open and riveted on the mirror as you watch everything I do to you.”
“What would you do to me?” The question escaped before the nice, rule-abiding part of her could play censor. Her hand took an unauthorized trip down the center of her chest, over her stomach, and under her skirt. The woman in the mirror bit her lip and squirmed into her own touch.
“Depends. Tell me, Miss Wayne, is the bedframe solid?”
“It’s Koa,” she managed. “I’m sure—”
“Let’s be very sure. Get on your knees, hold onto the headboard, and give it a good, hard, shake.”
Images filtered into her mind. Rafe kneeling behind her, wrapping her fingers around the top of the headboard and telling her to hold on. The sensation of his hands traveling all over her, readying her for the moment when he’d put the bedframe to his own, personal evaluation. She tightened her hips and rocked into her palm, barely conscious of the instinctive move to relieve the ache building under her hand. She may have moaned.
“Unless your hands are otherwise occupied?”
It took her a moment to process the sly comment, and then she jerked her hand out from under her skirt, and sat up at the same time, losing her hold on her phone in the process. Good Lord, had she really been about to stroke herself to oblivion accompanied by the sound of his voice?
She heard her name from somewhere nearby, and felt around for her phone. How long had this experimental naughty girl been lurking inside her? She fell back onto the bed, equal parts appalled and amazed. Tearing her attention away from the mirror, she cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. St. Sebastian?”
“The villa sounds like a one-of-a-kind experience. I can’t wait to arrive and enjoy the pleasures firsthand.”
Smooth. Confident. Not the least bit out of his depth. This adventure constituted a new experience for her, but not for him. Not by a long shot. The ease with which he’d toyed with her reminded her they played in very different leagues. Did she really want to join his? Was she equipped to?
The air conditioner kicked in and pumped cool, heavy air over her skin. She shivered and tugged her skirt into place. “I’m sure you’ll find the villa accommodates all your needs, but other than the comforts it affords, you shouldn’t take anything for granted.” Great. Now she sounded like an uptight bitch. You just had something perilously close to phone sex with the man. Can you blame him for making assumptions?
His laughter carried over the line. “I promise you, Chelsea, I take nothing for granted.”
Maybe not, but she still felt like a mouse to his cat. Even though she had no idea which office at Las Ventanas he’d commandeered, she imagined him with his feet propped on a big polished desk, hand behind his head, smiling as he spoke into the phone. Before she could think up a brilliant comeback, he went on. “But when I find something I want, I work for it. I pursue relentlessly, if necessary.”
Wanted. Pursued. Magic words to a woman rebounding from a bruised heart and a trampled ego, with the power to entice her to do things she wouldn’t normally do. Tonight offered a perfect example. Not that she cast herse
lf as some helpless victim of his calculated seduction. The telephone diversion might have been Rafe’s idea, but she’d gone along because she’d wanted to. To please herself. Literally. In a strange way, it seemed like a step in the right direction. She stood and slipped her feet into her shoes.
“Do you always get what you want, Mr. St. Sebastian?”
“Ask again, but call me Rafe this time.”
“Do you always get what you want, Rafe?”
“I just did. See?”
Okay, he’d played her like a child’s toy, yet she couldn’t help but laugh. “Tradewinds prides itself on providing excellent customer service, which includes addressing our guests in any way they prefer.”
“Maybe. But we both know there are things you’ll do for me that have nothing to do with customer service.” His voice dropped. “Things you’ve never done for anyone else. You never wanted to before, but you do now.”
Yes, she certainly did. He knocked her off balance, the way he teased her one moment and then hit her with unrestrained intensity the next. A tiny vestige of self-preservation had her scrambling to keep things light. “Hmm. Know what I really want to do right now?”
“Name it.”