“I’ve lived in this house for six years,” he said, his attention on her bare legs. He stroked her calf with his palm, his fingers caressing the back of her knee. Alice shivered. He glanced at her face. “I just switched suites, that’s all,” he said, continuing to watch her closely as he skimmed his fingertips across the sensitive patch of skin. He really had incredible hands. Big. Warm. Knowing. She felt herself growing damp at his touch in combination with his focused stare. He had the look of a man who was anticipating a feast, and Alice was it.
“Why did you switch suites?” she whispered numbly. The daily life of a gorgeous bachelor tycoon seemed inexplicable to her.
He shrugged and his hand trailed up her leg. He experimented, palming the muscle first, then sliding his fingertips against the skin between her slightly parted thighs. Her clit twinged with arousal at his nearness, her flesh prickling beneath his touch.
“I wanted a change,” he said idly, watching his hand stroke her. Alice stared, too. It was impossible to look away. “I like the view better in this room.”
She cleared her throat, liking the view very much herself at the moment. He continued to stroke her inner thigh, as if he
enjoyed the sensation. Her skin color had deepened to a golden peach color. Despite the fact that he didn’t look as if he’d spent as much time in the sun as she had for the past few weeks, his hand was still darker than her thigh.
“And so you just had a whole new suite redecorated? Everything in here is new, isn’t it?” she asked, glancing around.
“A lot of it, yes,” he said, meeting her stare. He moved his hand, boldly cupping her sex through her cotton panties. She gasped softly in surprise. He began to move his hand in a subtle circular motion. “I suppose you think that means I’m spoiled?” he asked calmly.
“I … No,” she said in a choked voice. She wasn’t thinking much of anything.
His heavy-lidded stare lowered to her mouth, his hand continuing to stimulate her sex in a knowing, possessive manner that was making it hard for her to draw a full breath of air. He pressed.
“Mmm,” he murmured, sounding pleased. “You’re getting warm. And wet.”
Arousal tore through her. As if to prove his point, his massaging hand moved across her belly as their gazes clung. She felt the subtle humidity on her skin. Her abdomen muscles leapt. His touch set her nerves alight, creating a webwork of prickling pleasure. Her nipples pinched tight. His gaze flickered downward to her chest, as if he’d known precisely what reaction his touch was having on her.
“I’m going to finish undressing you,” he said, his voice a rough, rich seduction.
She nodded, her tongue suddenly feeling very thick as a strange combination of languor and sexual arousal weighted and warmed her muscles.
He slid his hand under her cotton shirt over her belly button, his fingers gliding over her ribs. The shirt bunched around his forearm. His fingers moved over the catch at the front of her bra and she felt the elastic give. Then he was scooping the shirt beneath her armpits and lifting it. Alice instinctively put up her arms, and he whipped the shirt off her. When she lowered her arms, she looked downward, stunned. Knowing what was coming tonight with Dylan, she’d worn a regular bra, not the restraining exercise bras she usually favored. The cups of her bra slid across her breasts, exposing her nipples.
“Smooth,” she joked through a tight throat, referring to how he’d bared her with a few effortless, quick moves.
He flashed her a quick grin, but his gaze was steady on her as he pulled back on the cups of her bra and she lifted her arms one at a time, freeing herself from the straps. She lay back on the mattress. He cupped her breasts gently, and his small smile faded.
“I kept thinking of you all day. It wasn’t my imagination. You really are exquisite. It’s not that common, for a woman as slender as you to have breasts like this … to have such sensitive nipples,” he murmured. She wasn’t so sure she liked the idea of him being such a breast expert, but her body seemed less discerning. Her nipples tightened even more, as if to prove his point. He gave a small smile and swept his hands downward, his thumbs still on the underside of her breasts, his fingers bracketing her rib cage. He paused, holding her firmly. It felt so good when she inhaled choppily to feel the security of his hold.
His smile turned tender, and he met her dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.”
“Dylan,” she mouthed. She reached for him. He turned his face and kissed the underside of one of her forearms when she grasped his head. Liquid heat surged at her sex at the simple, profoundly erotic gesture. He gathered her arms and placed her wrists gently above her head on the mound of pillows.
“Keep them there,” he said. His tone was gentle, but there was a glint in his eyes that told her he meant business. She frowned, but nodded. His hands slid beneath her panties, drawing them down her legs and off her. He palmed the inside of the thigh closest to him and spread her several inches.
“Is it one of your ‘sexual preferences’? To remain dressed while the woman is completely naked?” she asked, still scowling a little despite the electrical effect of Dylan’s fixed stare between her thighs.
“Not particularly, no,” he said distractedly. “But right now, I want to play with you. I told you I wanted to watch you come.”
EIGHT
She felt heat rush into her cheeks. Play with her? Her brain didn’t like the sound of that, but her body reacted as if it possessed a different mind than the one in her head. She had a sudden urge to place her hands between her thighs to stanch the ache there.
She glanced aside when suede fabric brushed her hip. He’d just pulled down a pillow from beneath the mound of them at the head of his bed. Her brows drew together in puzzlement when she saw it wasn’t a typical small, decorative pillow. It was nearly two feet wide and wedge-shaped, one end about ten to twelve inches thick, the other only a few inches wide. “Lift your bottom and back a little,” he directed. She followed the urging of his hand and directions uncertainly. He slid the thin end of the pillow beneath her, pushing until it rested at her middle back. Because of the wedge shape of the soft cushion, her hips had rolled back and were suspended above the rest of her body. Dylan gently pushed back her knees toward her chest.
Her ass was curved at the edge of the high part of the wedge. Her buttocks and the back of her thighs were completely exposed, her legs suspended in the air.
“Now stretch your arms back over your head, Alice,” he said, his voice sounding a little rougher than before. Tense. Did he like seeing her like this? she wondered dazedly as she straightened her arms. The possibility struck her as strange, and yet excited her, too. It was an awkward position, because she hadn’t been in it before—unless she counted the exercise pose where one rolled one’s legs and feet over the head to stretch. But this was only partially that pose. With the wedge raising her hips and ass, her legs bent toward her chest. The soles of her feet felt strangely naked and vulnerable, suspended in the air the way they were. Thanks to the soft, but firm suede wedge pillow propping up her hips, it might have been an unusual pose, but it was comfortable.
If one could call this mounting feeling of vulnerability and arousal comfortable.
“There. Are you okay?” he asked, running one hand along the back of one suspended leg. He reached between calf and thigh, and stroked the back of her knee. A shiver tore through her.