What Happened in Vegas.... Wendy Etherington

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СКАЧАТЬ really it was a practical section, a very small section—telling him he and Jacinda were going too fast. Reminding him that spontaneous moves hadn’t led anywhere productive last time.

      Thankfully, the other ninety-five percent of him remembered the two nights of hot sex and told his practical section to pipe down ASAP.

      Look into her eyes, not at her legs, his practical section insisted as they stepped into the elevator. Doesn’t something seem not quite right?

      Before that idea could take hold, Jacinda came to his rescue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

      He slid his arms around her waist. “Keep doing anything you like.”

      She kissed his throat, her hands gliding through his hair, her breasts brushing his chest. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensations flowing through his body, on the sexual friction they created.

      How had he survived so long without touching her? Both the ache and the satisfaction were equally prized. No other woman had made him appreciate the journey to fulfillment more.

      When the elevator doors opened, he spun Jacinda into the hall, keeping her tight against his body and hoping none of her neighbors were wandering around.

      “What number?” he asked against her cheek.

      “Seventeen twenty-one. To the right.”

      They moved in that direction, and as she unlocked her door, he grasped her waist, pulling her backside against his erection. He sucked in a quick breath of pain and pleasure. It was a sweet kind of torture to touch her, but not touch her completely.

      He wanted to press her against the door, release himself from his jeans and slam his way to ecstasy.

      Would this new, sophisticated Jacinda slap his face or hitch her legs around his hips and hold on for the ride? The fact that he couldn’t anticipate her reaction when he thought he knew her well was both intriguing and frustrating.

      Once she pushed open the door, she grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. He absorbed a brief glimpse of a sunken living room, ultramodern furniture in lots of silver and white and an excellent view of Central Park before she tugged him down a short hallway to her bedroom.

      The room was awash in turquoise and green, reminding him of the Caribbean Sea. The sleek, almost sterile lines from the other room were gone, replaced by a wavy-patterned bedspread and delicate, sun-bleached seashells arranged in a crystal bowl on the nightstand.

      He’d just caught a glimpse of a picture of Jacinda and a blond-haired man posing in the shallows of the ocean when her bra hit the carpeted floor.

      “Are we—”

      “We’re getting naked,” she said, planting her hands on her hips as his gaze took in her naked-to-the-waist lushness.

      Sweat broke out on his brow. Dear heaven, he’d somehow forgotten how amazing her body was.

      She angled her head. “It’s better naked, don’t you think?”

      “Ah, it’s pretty good no matter what.”

      She grinned. “True.” She flopped back on the bed, her elegant skirt hitched halfway up her thighs.

      And just like that, with her nearly naked, her eyes glittering and need clearly stamped on her face, he wanted to slow things way down.

      He hadn’t gone to Jacinda to charm his way into her bed—though that might have been a secondary thought after he’d acquired the emerald. He’d hoped their past would have established a familiarity and sense of trust that he wouldn’t have gotten from another auction house staff member.

      He knew Jacinda. He knew she was honest and determined, smart and professional. He admired her guts, ambition and resourcefulness to use all the assets she possessed to get what she wanted—namely, her body and her brains.

      He hadn’t counted on her being ashamed of her past, though why the hell that hadn’t occurred to him was, at the moment, a complete mystery of idiocy.

      In retrospect, he wished he could have marched into a stranger’s office, said the name Sophia Graystone and waited for them to bow at his feet. As he watched Jacinda crook her finger toward him, he realized he’d tangled his past and present, his professional and personal lives far too intimately.

      Jump her! his body urged. Who cares how complicated things get?

      He waited, for just a second, for his practical section to argue.

      Silence.

      Grinning, he dropped to the bed beside her. He laid on his side and drew his finger down the center of her bare chest. “We don’t have to be in a hurry, do we?”

      She rolled over on top of him, straddling his hips. “Sure we do.”

      “That works, too,” he said, reaching for the zipper at the back of her skirt as she shoved his T-shirt up.

      When she’d bared his chest, she leaned down…kissed his neck, then quickly moved to his nipples. She flicked her tongue across each one in turn, shooting flames of pleasure to his groin.

      All he could manage to do was grip the comforter in his fists and arch into her touch.

      Being the determined, multitasking woman she was, she managed to release the buttons on his jeans, even as her mouth and tongue continued their exploration of his chest. She rendered him helpless and needy so quickly. His senses were bombarded by her, the feel of her hot, bare skin against his, her breasts brushing his chest, her palms skimming his sides.

      Her scent washed over him, like coconut milk, but also slightly tangy like the sea. The only sounds in the room were the combination of their breathing and the occasional horn from the street outside. But he imagined hearing the crashing ocean waves. He’d like to see her in the sand, digging—

      His breath froze in his chest as she released his erection, cupping him and running her hand up and down its rigid length. His heart pounded like a chugging freight train.

      “Oh, man.”

      Jacinda’s face hovered above his. “I think I remember where this goes.”

      He croaked out a chuckle. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept doing that. “If you forget, I’ll remind you.”

      She released him suddenly, and he sat up. “Hey, where—”

      She’d scooted to the bedside table, where she pulled out a foil-wrapped condom. She tossed it to him, then wriggled her way out of her skirt and panties.

      He stopped himself from asking her to move slower, to draw out the striptease. But since his erection was throbbing impatiently, he rolled on the protection.

      The moment she was naked, he grabbed her arm and tugged her onto her back, then positioned himself between her legs.

      “My stamina isn’t great. I’ve spent the last four months in the Andes.”

      “No sex in four months?”

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