His bedroom door was open, she realized as she neared the window. There was a light on somewhere down the hallway. As her eyes accustomed to the interior darkness of his bedroom, her breath hitched. She saw him.
She saw part of him, anyway, around the edge of an opened floor-to-ceiling curtain. He stood very still about a foot or two from the window. Only half of his body was dimly visible, as if he hadn’t fully committed to his action. Neither the distant light nor the glow of the city lights reached him completely. Part of him still remained cloaked in the shadows, poised for a departure.
The music swelled and pounded into the familiar opening to her routine. She raised her arms over her head, parted her thighs and placed her hands on the cool glass. She leaned into the window in a sinuous motion, gyrating her hips.
You’re not going anywhere, Trey Riordan.
THREE
Knowing he was out there in combination with the sexy dance brought it all back to her: how aroused she’d felt reading that spanking scene in her book, all the while knowing Trey was watching her. Wanting her. She liked having him watch her. His desire went to her head like an intoxicant.
Staring directly at his distant figure, but still highly aware of the image she made in the window’s reflection, she undulated her hips, imagining her sex drawing invisible circles. The air itself seemed to tickle and lick at her naked flesh. She lifted one hand from the window in a subtle beckoning gesture, and then touched the side of her neck, feeling the throb of her pounding heart. Slowly, still swinging her hips to the driving beat of the music, she glided her hand down her bare chest and over the soft suede of the camisole. She cupped the side of her breast, feeling its weight and firmness in her palm, before her hand coasted down to her waist. Her head fell back, her hair caressing her shoulders, back and bare waist beneath the bodice. She opened her hand on her hip, feeling the sensual movement of her body.
The music seemed to unfurl her. The heat it generated made her blossom. Her hand trailed down to the bottom of her short skirt, her fingertips touching the smooth skin of her thigh. She lifted the fabric higher, feeling the hem brush ever so lightly against her naked labia. She ground her hips forward, instinctively craving more of the fabric’s light touch on her sex.
When she lowered her head and opened her eyelids a slit, she saw Trey’s curtain flutter. His shadowed figure stepped around it. With the added ambience of the city lights, she saw that he placed one hand against the glass.
He’d taken a step closer.
It was working.
Her confidence swelled. She spun rapidly, her hands above her head, the knowledge of his observation pulsing in her blood. She blatantly seduced him with her swiveling hips, sliding hair and popping ass, calling him with a siren dance. Her back to him, she strutted several feet over to the edge of the bed. She didn’t need to look to know she had his full attention.
She bent and planted her hands on the mattress and slid onto it belly down, ass elevated in a sensual, sinful glide. The bed portion of the routine was her favorite. It was decadently sexy, but also required some skill. After her initial awkwardness, Eleanor had taken to it like a high-priced call girl. She’d loved practicing it and imagining Trey watching her.
Right here, right now, it was no longer a fantasy. His gaze was glued to her undulating, swiveling ass, and that knowledge was a power unlike anything she’d ever known.
She rolled over onto her back and lifted her stocking-covered legs high in the air. Her skirt had ridden down so that it now barely covered her ass and sex. Legs straight, she opened her thighs.
Wide.
She was nearly doing sideways splits midair. She closed, opened and closed them again. With her legs together and straightened in the air, she bent her knees and rolled her sexy shoes in the air, flirting shamelessly. The movements to the dance were precise, but she made them into a gliding, sensual tease. She knew his gaze was glued to her legs, most especially to what was between them. She sensed his focused attention on her, felt his stare burning her sex. Her pussy ached in response. It was a delicious tease for her as much as it was for him.
Still scissoring and posing her legs in midair, she caressed the back of one thigh. This wasn’t part of the official strip exercise routine, but it certainly felt right. She cupped the bottom of one buttock and slowly circled her hand, causing her skirt to lower and then rise in rhythm to the music, up and down . . . just a fraction of an inch. She was flashing her pussy at him, and it was a potent intoxicant.
She kept the skirt in place, just covering her sex from him. One finger strayed over the edge of her skirt to her pussy. She sunk it into her snug, liquid channel, only letting him see the movement of her hand, but not her sex itself, as she stimulated herself.
Her moan sounded over the loud music.
For a stretched moment, she lost herself. The idea entered her brain that she should fully expose what she was doing. It was such a strong, precise prod that she couldn’t help but wonder if it was him thinking it at that moment . . . if it was Trey demanding it silently, projecting his command across the distance. But that wasn’t part of her routine.
Not yet it wasn’t, anyway.
She lowered her legs and slid off the bed. She stood facing him, fully exposed. Her heart leapt into overtime as she danced to the music, caressing her body all the while, falling victim to her own seduction. He’d stepped even closer to the window. She could make out his form better. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans, leaving the magnificent landscape of his lean, cut torso exposed. The jeans rode low on his narrow hips. God, what it would be like to touch all that hard male flesh?
Heaven.
She sensed the coiled tension in his muscles. She saw the rigidness of his rugged, handsome face. Like he had for a moment there in the coffee shop, he looked positively fierce. Both of his hands pressed against the windowpane now, only adding to the impression of a caged animal poised to spring. And Jesus . . . she didn’t think it was her imagination. Things looked very full behind the fly of his jeans.
Still pulsing her hips to the driving beat, she cupped one sensitive breast through the suede bodice. With her other hand, she drew on the lace. His elbows bent slightly, making him lean in closer to the window, arm muscles bulging. His attention on her was absolute and cuttingly sharp. It stole her breath.
She worked a finger beneath the lace and drew it out of the first holes on the camisole. She proceeded downward teasingly, drawing out the laces while she danced. As she undressed, she shaped her breast to her palm, plumping the flesh into the widening opening. When she was entirely unlaced, she cupped both of her breasts, squeezing them into the inch-wide opening while keeping the fabric over her nipples.
She saw his teeth flash as his mouth curled into a snarl. She’d been intimidated by his fierceness in the coffee shop. Now she understood him better. Now she shared in his fever.
She opened the bodice, but almost immediately covered her bare breasts again with her hands. Her head went back and she moaned. She played with herself to entice Trey, of course. But she’d been unprepared for how good it felt. Her nipples were diamond hard against her palms. She massaged her breasts sensually while she danced to the music.
Show them to me, you little tease.