Page 49 of Bombshells
Even though we hit every traffic light, it’s only a ten-minute ride. As the driver loops around to turn onto our street, I remove my hand from Anton’s and dip into my coat pocket for the credit card I have zipped in there.
“No, I got it,” Anton says, pushing a bill through the slot toward the driver.
I let him pay and slide across the seat to get out of the cab. My heart is thumping with expectation. He’s waiting for me on the sidewalk. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he says.
“Actually, would you mind coming up?” And then I remember something crucial. “Fiona had to pin me into this dress. I could use some help with the safety pin. There’s a glass of wine in it for you.”
His eyes darken, and then his forehead creases with uncertainty. I can tell I’ve caught him off guard. He’s not sure if I mean what he thinks I mean.
I let a beat of silence pass between us, while I hold his exceptional gaze. “Please,” I say in a low voice.
“Okay,” he says in an even lower one.
Wordlessly, he takes my hand in his. We’re both afraid to blink, maybe. That must be why we stare at each other for another long moment.
And then Anton makes his decision. He looks away, checks for traffic, and then leads me across the street. With my free hand, I pull my keys out of my zipper pocket, and open the outside door. A moment later we’re both climbing the stairs toward my empty apartment.
The mood is solemn as I open my apartment door. It’s dark in our little living room, and I switch on only the dimmest lamp.
“You’ve done some decorating,” Anton says, glancing around as he removes his tux jacket and lays it over the arm of the huge sofa. “Looks nice.”
“Thank you.” Fiona and I have added a coffee table and pillows. There are vintage posters framed on the walls. It’s a nice little home.
But none of that matters right now. I’m a woman on a mission. I don’t offer Anton the glass of wine that I mentioned. Instead, I march over to him before he can sit down. “It’s a little safety pin. Right here.” I touch the back of my neck.
“Of course,” he says in a silky voice.
A big hand sweeps the hair off my neck. I’m so primed for his touch that even this makes my breath hitch. The heat of his palm on my body gives me a sudden case of goosebumps, and I close my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of a powerful man’s gentle fingers on the sensitive nape of my neck.
He hums under his breath as he locates the safety pin tucked under the fabric, and carefully frees it from the dress.
“There,” he says quietly as the velvet begins to slip against my skin. “Ah, careful.” He pauses, holding the dress in place, because that narrow circle of fabric is the only thing holding up the top of the dress. It wants to slip down my body.
I don’t make a move to help him. I don’t reach back, and I don’t let him off the hook. Instead, I reach for his free hand, and wrap it around my hip. And then I lean back against him, taking in the heat of his hard chest through his tuxedo shirt.
I hold my breath. Because I want this. No, I need this. I’m so tired of waiting and wanting. And Anton’s nearness has always done swoopy things to my stomach.
Why not now? Why not him, and why not me?
“Sylvie,” he whispers, and it sounds like a prayer. Then he drops the collar of the dress, and it slides like a silky waterfall down my upper body, until stopped by the zipper.
Then? I reach back and tug the zipper down slowly.
Cool air hits my skin. Anton makes a low groan of protest as the dress continues to slide, exposing my lacy strapless bra. Then soft lips slip across the back of my neck. “Is this what you’re asking me for?” He kisses the juncture of my shoulder.
“Yes.”
“And this?” His tongue darts out to taste my skin, and my goosebumps redouble.
“Yes,” I gasp.
He kisses me again, his mouth growing bolder and less gentle. Wet, open-mouthed kisses swirl against my skin, and then he taunts me with his tongue.
Hell, I feel it in my nipples. I feel it everywhere. And I tilt my head to give him better access. He groans again, tasting my skin, tongueing each new inch, sucking lazily where it suits him before moving on.
It’s absurd how quickly I get wet. I had no idea a man could get me so hot by kissing my neck. I want more, so I try to turn around.
But Anton tightens his arm around my waist, fighting me. He pins me in place, my back to his chest, and he continues the erotic assault on my bare shoulder.
