Mr. Scandalous, page 7
Eden cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his bemused gaze. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“Stop grinning.”
“I can’t. I’m just so damned happy you called.”
“Really?”
The look he shot her way was heated and meaningful. “Really.”
“All right then, stipulation one. The affair will last for four weeks and four weeks only. No renegotiating this point.” Eden struggled to keep her voice low, steady and unemotional.
It would ruin everything if he guessed she wasn’t cool, calm and completely in control of her feelings. She had instituted this particular rule simply to protect herself. She knew that if she wasn’t careful she could fall hard for him.
“Do you agree?”
“The next four weeks is about pushing the limits of our sexuality and at the end of the month...” He hesitated and then said huskily, “It’s over.”
Was she being hyper-vigilant, or did he actually sound dubious, as if he didn’t really believe the words he’d just uttered. But why would he hesitate? He’d made sure she understood he wasn’t the committed kind.
“Two,” she continued. “No meeting each other’s friends or family. No going to each other’s apartments. No dating. Nothing personal. Nothing lasting. Just hot, delicious sex.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right.” He nodded. His jaw tensed tight, his smoky-gray eyes practically shimmering with excitement
She was excited, too. Thrilled. Delighted. Ecstatic. She was going after what she wanted, what she needed. It felt shockingly good and dangerous and naughty as all get-out.
This wasn’t about love or finding a mate. This affair was about expanding her sexual horizons and boosting her creativity. This was about discovering her body’s response to sexual pleasure so that she no longer felt like a hypocrite when she designed her baskets.
But, ultimately, this affair was about boosting her self-esteem and conquering her shame over her burn scars.
Which led Eden to her third stipulation. In order for this to work, she had to trust Alec completely. It took time to build trust. Time she didn’t have. So she had devised a plan to escalate their intimacy while easing into sex.
He trailed a finger over her shoulder.
“Three,” she said, steeling herself not to shiver and give away her vulnerability. “I want to start slow and build the tension. I want this to be an affair to remember. I want to play games.”
Alec inhaled audibly. “Games? What kind of games?”
“Fantasy role-playing games. Bold sheik and willing harem captive. Biker chick and straitlaced businessman. Doctor and nurse.”
God, how she wanted this. To actually live out the adventures she’d spent years dreaming up for other people. It was time her fantasies came true.
“Like your baskets,” he murmured so low she could barely hear him.
“Exactly.”
He didn’t have to know she was on a desperate search for innovative ideas, for something wild and edgy and in-your-face. He didn’t have to find out she was using him to kick-start her creativity.
“Will there be toys involved?” he asked with a devilish grin.
“Oh yes, there will be toys.” She grinned back, tickled to find him quickly sinking into the spirit of things. “We will meet two nights a week. Tuesdays and Saturdays are good for me, but that’s open for your approval.”
“I’ll clear my calendar,” he said. “Tomorrow is Tuesday.” His voice was a silky slide of pleasure in her ears. His knee bumped hers and his lips hovered perilously close to her mouth. “We start then?”
“Yes,” she said. “Meet me at the Grand Duchess hotel in the lobby at seven o’clock. And be prepared for anything.”
Swallowing hard, Eden dropped her bathrobe to the floor and studied her nakedness in the full-length mirror.
Mostly, she tried not to notice her body. She got in and out of the shower without turning her head toward the looking glass. She put on her clothes as quickly as possible and she never, ever slept in the nude.
But now she had to look and see her scars through fresh eyes. Had to see herself the way a stranger would see her.
Gingerly, she ran a hand down her abdomen and fingered the pink, uneven edges of the burn that started directly below her belly button and ran parallel to her hipbones.
The scar widened, flaring out to encompass her entire pelvic girdle and three inches down the tops of her thighs. Her pubic hair, which been singed off in the fire, had never grown back.
She was as bald as a hairless Chihuahua.
How’s this for edgy, Tori?
She tilted her head and turned slightly for a three-quarter view. A full Brazilian bikini wax wouldn’t have produced a muff this bare. Eden gave a sharp bark of laughter at the notion of women paying lots of money to achieve the same slick look. What she wouldn’t give to have her hair back. She missed the dark, curly trouser tresses.
Face facts. Upon first sight, anyone would find her pink, scarred mons unsettling.
Josh had certainly been unsettled. Correction. He’d been shocked.
Eden tried to squelch the memory, but it rose up anyway. It happened last year ago, but her shame stung as vividly as if the rejection had been yesterday.
It was her fourth date with Josh, and they’d been getting along really well. They liked the same music, read the same books and enjoyed the same restaurants. She’d only been mildly attracted to him sexually, but she’d had two glasses of wine over dinner and her resistance was down. When he’d suggested they end the night in her apartment, she’d thought why not?
The thing was, he knew about the fire. She’d told him about her wounds and the surgeries and still he hadn’t been prepared. He’d actually gagged when he’d seen the scars and instantly went from erect to flaccid in five seconds flat.
“I’m sorry, Eden,” he’d said, scrambling off her bed. She’d thrown the blankets over her nakedness, flattened that he’d found her so repulsive. “I tried to keep an open mind about this but—” he had slapped a palm over his mouth “—I can’t.”
And then he’d literally run from her apartment.
Eden brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. Stop crying over that jerk. But what if Alec felt the same way? What if he was unable to look past her disfigurement?
Fear clutched her.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go through with this fling. She was all bluff and false bravado.
“I can’t,” she said to her reflection.
You have to. You need him to get unblocked To save your biggest account.
“No more pain,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t bear it if he rejects me, too.”
Her scar was the real reason she’d insisted on the role-playing games and taking things step-by-step. To make absolutely certain she could trust him not to react negatively, but she couldn’t do this alone. She needed help. Emotional support. Encouragement.
Jayne. She would know what to do. Eden picked up the phone and called her adventurous friend for sex advice.
Be prepared for anything.
Eden’s parting words circled in Alec’s head—a dare, a challenge, a call to adventure. Did she have any idea how she’d piqued his interest and stirred his blood? His body prickled with anticipation.
She was an erotic mastermind.
On Tuesday evening, Alec perched on a camelback sofa in the lobby of the elegant Grand Duchess Hotel, the wallet in his hip pocket stuffed with condoms as his fingers nervously drummed against his kneecap.
For the ninety-ninth time in the span of ten minutes, he checked his watch. Seven minutes after seven. Where was she? Had he been stood up?
A flash of red on the sidewalk outside the window caught his attention and Alec turned for a better look.
The big-haired blonde strutted down the sidewalk, all sass and spicy attitude. She wore a stretchy blouse so low-cut it oughta be illegal, and her glorious, look-fellas-no-bra breasts bounced high with each step she took.
A tight red skirt hugged her curvaceous hips. She stalked on stilettos so tall he wondered how she managed to keep her balance. Her gorgeous gams were shod in a pair of scarlet stockings so touchable his fingers ached.
The blond vixen hurried up the steps of the Grand Duchess and entered the revolving door. Every masculine head within eyeshot turned to stare.
Something familiar nagged at Alec’s brain. Did he know her? She passed through the door and then turned left into the lobby and swaggered straight for him.
Realization dawned.
Holy cow! It was Eden!
In a blond wig.
Looking decidedly like a hooker.
Spellbound, his jaw unhinged. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Testosterone flowed. She ignored his open-mouthed stare. In fact, she ignored him completely.
And that was erotic, too!
Instead she walked over, eased down on the opposite end of the sofa and crossed her legs at the knees. She tousled her hair with her hand—a hand sporting three-inch-long fake crimson fingernails and jangly bracelets too numerous to count.
“Eden?” he said, flustered by her transformation and mightily turned-on by it.
“Name’s Lola, buddy. Not that it’s any of your beeswax,” she said in nasally New Jersey accent. “Unless, that is, you got a wad of cash money in your pocket.”
He identified the game and thrilled to it. He was delighted and even a little scared at how she’d so completely assumed her role.
“How much?” he asked, his throat tightening.
Finally she looked at him, angling a haughty glance down the length of her nose. “You a cop?”
“No, no, not a cop.”
“You sure?”
He nodded vigorously.
“If you’re a cop, you gotta tell me.”
“Not. A. Cop.”
“Five Benjamins for the night.”
“Five hundred? Isn’t that a bit steep?”
“Hey buster, you get what you pay for.”
“And you’re worth five hundred dollars?” He was so excited his hands trembled.
She leaned in closer, swaying and jiggling and revealing not only lots of cleavage, but also a small red heart tattooed on her left breast. Eden had a tattoo?
Alec realized then how little he knew about her, and that served to make him even harder.
“You have no idea.” Her wicked grin sent a shaft of exquisitely painful need blasting through his groin.
“Are you wearing underwear?” He dropped his voice and at first he wasn’t sure she’d heard him.
A heartbeat passed.
She slid him a look that jammed his libido into hyperdrive. A suggestive look that declared, I’m thinking of something very dirty and if you do things my way you won’t regret it. But just as easily the expression could have said. I’ve got a switchblade in my purse and I’m not afraid to use it.
Then she relaxed her mouth, slightly parted her lushly painted lips and slipped her tongue between her teeth in a gesture so provocative he almost shot his load right then and there.
“No.” She made a purring noise, low and throaty. “No underwear here. You interested or not?”
His gaze locked on her thighs, his mind racing as he imagined the treats that awaited him on the other side of that skirt.
“I don’t have five hundred dollars on me,” he said, playing along.
“If you don’t have the cash, stop wasting my time.” She stood. “I don’t do Venmo.
“Wait, wait.” He reached out a hand to touch her wrist. The minute made contact, Alec’s hand sizzled and burned. “What can I get for a hundred bucks?”
She crooked a finger at him. “Come with me.”
Surprised that he could even put one foot in front of another, Alec removed his jacket and carried it in front of him to hide his gigantic erection. With his gaze locked on her beautiful butt, he followed Eden to the elevators.
The sense of reckless abandon pushed him headlong into self-indulgent excesses with this stunning woman. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget her.
The elevator settled with a muted ding and the doors whispered open. People got off and then Eden took his hand and led him inside.
With one of those dangerously long fingernails, she lightly trailed a line up the inside of his forearm. Who would have ever thought a gentle scratch would feel so incredible?
Her touch blasted a whole new language through his body as he imagined those hard-tipped fingernails exploring the tender parts of him.
The elevator stopped on the eighth floor, and she led him to the end of the hallway. She extracted a key card from her purse. Tresses from her long blond wig fell forward over her shoulder as she bent to open the door.
Her bold sexual confidence belied the reticence that had led her to reject him at the French restaurant. She was a complex and complicated woman with obviously two strong but opposing impulses that drove her.
He wanted to know what they were. That hungry curiosity nearly shoved him over the edge of reason. He couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for him.
She’d started this strange dance, this mesmerizing game, but damn if he wasn’t committed to finishing it.
After turning the doorknob, she stepped over the threshold and flicked on the light. “You comin’?” she asked, staying in character with her street-tough accent.
“Uh-huh.” He hustled inside and the door snapped closed behind him.
In the muted glow of lamplight, his gaze raked over the tight clothes, emphasizing every shape and contour of her body. His eyes flicked from her breasts to her legs to her butt and back again.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
“Very much.”
“If you want to see more, you’ve got to show me the green.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a foot.
The woman could have been an actress, she was that damned good. Feeling for all the world like a sheepish John paying for the favors of a lady of the night, Alec pried his wallet from his back pocket and took out a hundred-dollar bill.
She plucked the money from his hand and tucked it down the front of her blouse, where Benjamin Franklin ended up nestling next to the rose tattoo.
“Take off your shirt.” She plunked down in a chair, crossing her knees and swinging her leg provocatively.
“I thought you were going to show me more.”
“You first.”
Alec tossed his jacket on the dresser and then unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. His fingers migrated to the buttons at his throat, and he was surprised to find he felt weirdly ambivalent about this and sort of shy. It was an alien sensation, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
But he did like the frankly sexual gleam in her eyes as she watched him strip off his shirt.
“Nice pecs. You work out?”
“Yes.”
“Most of my customers are old and flabby. This is a pleasant change of pace.” She got to her feet and moved across the room toward him.
Alec’s heart went thumpa-thumpa-thumpa with each undulation of her hips.
“You don’t look like the type of guy who has to pay for sex.”
“I want it anonymous,” he said. “Illicit and illegal.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” She stopped just inches from his face. In an impulsive move, she lifted her mouth to his chin and bit him. Not hard, but not so soft, either.
And then she poked him lightly in the chest with a fingernail and raked those fingers over his naked muscles.
Alec muffled a groan. His erection burgeoned and his knees weakened.
Chill out. Calm down, man, or you won’t last five seconds.
“How’d you get this?” She purred, following the curve of an old crescent-shaped scar two inches to the right of his nipple.
“Climbing 2K.”
“For real? You climbed 2K?”
“I didn’t make it to the top.”
“Stopped prematurely, didja?”
“The injury...” His eyes locked with hers.
“And this one?” She ran her fingernail over the small but deep jagged scar dug into his left bicep.
“Motocross.”
“Did you win?”
He shook his head. “Didn’t finish.”
“Hmm,” she said. “I see a pattern developing here. Do you have problems finishing what you start, John?”
He yanked her into his arms. “Those were just my failures. Wait until you hear about my successes. You should have seen me laying pipe on the North shore of Oahu last year.”
“Ooh, laying pipe. I like the sound of that one. But one Benjamin doesn’t buy that kind of time.” She patted the hundred-dollar bill nestled between her breasts. “Let’s stop talking and get down to business.”
God, he loved this game. She was simply amazing. And then, before he knew what she was planning, her hands were at his belt, undoing the buckle.
He hissed in his breath as she pulled the belt through the loops with a leathery slither and aggressively two-stepped him backward toward the bed. She splayed a palm against the center of his chest and butt-planted him onto the bedspread.
His mouth was like wet carpet, his stomach a bowling ball. He felt exactly the same way he had the time he and Randy had base-jumped off the hard granite cliff of Kjerag, Norway, with a stinging cold breeze in his face, a rig on his back and the knowledge that very shortly he’d be leaping off the edge of a very large abyss.
He was committed.
Eden climbed over him, straddling his body. She was breathing as hard and fast as he, her nimble fingers working the zipper of his pants, assiduously trying to free his erection.
“Eden,” he moaned.
“Not Eden,” she said sharply. “Lola.”
“Lola,” he whispered, as she shucked both his pants and his briefs over his hips in one fluid movement and flung them to the floor. “Lola.”
He wanted to touch her, wanted to get her naked, wanted to feel her hot, damp skin pressed flush against his.
But Lola had other ideas.
Her hands were wrapped around his stiff cock, and he could barely breathe, much less think. One hand rhythmically stroked his shaft, while the other hand manipulated the head of his shaft with soft, teasing caresses.
