He blanched. “Jesus, Eleanor, I know that.”
“Do you?” She’d never wanted to set the record straight more than at that moment. It seemed that every minute she spent with him, she dug herself a deeper hole.
“Yes,” he grated out.
He looked angry. She swallowed thickly, straining to get ahold of herself. “The thing of it is, I have more options than I do over here,” she said in shaky frustration. She glanced down at her jeans and walking boots. “Look what I’m wearing. It’s not sexy.” She stalked through his entryway into his large living room, having difficulty meeting his slightly incredulous expression at the moment.
“You’re wrong. You look fantastic. Look how crazy you’ve been making me all evening,” he said from behind her. She spun around, exasperated.
“You’re missing the point. This isn’t a striptease outfit!”
“Okay,” he said, holding up his hands in a surrender gesture. “We’ll skip it, then. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
“No,” she growled, frustrated. “I want to . . . you know. Make you feel good like you did me . . . on the water taxi.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, clearly wary about what to say next, worried he’d step on another mine. “Maybe we should go over to your place, where you feel more in control.”
“It’s not just that. I’ve never really done it while someone was in the same room as me,” she said, frustrated by her inability to put concisely into words her dilemma. It wasn’t a topic she was used to discussing. She was a little alarmed at how difficult she was finding it to communicate her discomfort. She did a double take when she saw his speculative, pleased expression and reflected back on what she’d just said. “You like that, don’t you? That I’ve never done a striptease in close proximity to someone?” she asked him in amazement.
He shrugged. “I do like the path not taken. At least with you I do. Or so it would seem,” he added wryly.
She stared for a moment, her attention entirely caught by his small, sexy grin.
“Look, I’m sorry I don’t understand all the details and nuances about your preferences yet. It’s not that I don’t want to learn,” he said quietly, taking a step toward her.
“Thanks for that,” she whispered. She replayed their conversation in her head and winced in regret. “That means a lot to me. Really. I’m sorry for seeming so . . . hysterical about it. I’m not sure how to put how I feel about it into words.”
“You don’t seem hysterical,” he muttered, smoothing back a strand of hair at her temple. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. “I’m not getting you, and it’s making you nervous. Right?”
She nodded. “I told you on the boat: it’s not that I’m a control freak when it comes to sex,” she hastened to say. “I want to turn you on. The control I want is in service. To you.”
His fingers paused just above her ear. There. She’d said it right. H
adn’t she?
His expression went rigid. He suddenly seemed much closer than he had before, his hovering face just inches away from her upturned one. She saw the gleam in his blue eyes.
“That’s one hell of a sweet thing to say.”
She smiled tremulously, warmth rushing through her. He’d understood her. He opened his hand along the side of her head and brushed his lips against hers. She sighed and stepped closer, placing her palms facedown on his chest.
“I tell you what. We could either go over to your place. Or . . .”
“Or?” she wondered breathlessly.
“I could give you complete control over my bedroom. It’ll be your stage to set as you like,” he said quietly, nipping at her lower lip. “I’ll even open up my closets and cupboards for you for props. Anything in them is yours to use.”
“Really? You’d allow that?”
He grabbed her hand and led her in the direction of the hallway. “Sure, I’m willing to sacrifice for the benefit of the arts.”
She laughed. He turned and smiled over his shoulder. Her heart gave a little jump. God, he was sexy.
“I’ll show you around a little, and then leave you to it. How would that be? If you don’t find what you need to inspire you, we could go to your place.” They crossed the threshold into his bedroom suite and he turned on a light. He halted next to the bed and turned toward her. She glanced around the luxurious, masculine bedroom and seating area.
“I’m not sure I’ll find much of use in a man’s room.”
“Maybe not as far as clothes, but you’re welcome to whatever is here.” He led her over to a door. They entered an enormous walk-in closet, including shelving and rows upon rows of hung clothing.