Page 47 of Second Time Around
The bathroom was in keeping with the restaurant. Every detail was subtle but beautiful. The sinks were square white bowls set on a counter made of a gray stone with white veins. The hand towels were white linen embroidered with a snake-haired woman, Medusa, the Gorgon Perseus had killed. She smiled at the thought that Will would appreciate the mythological reference.
Each toilet was enclosed in a spacious stall tiled from floor to ceiling with a mosaic of silver, gray, and taupe glass squares. She walked into one and locked the door, then laughed at herself. She was the only onewho would be using this ladies’ room tonight. She bunched her dress up to her hips and hooked her fingers into her panties, pulling them down so they dropped to her ankles. Bracing her hand against the wall, she lifted one foot and then the other to free the black lace.
Fortunately, the fabric was flimsy and there wasn’t much of it, so she could crumple it up in one fist.
She unlocked the door and walked out to stand in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing her dress down over her thighs. Nothing in her reflected image betrayed the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties, but she felt so naked that she was sure anyone who looked at her would figure it out somehow.
“Only if they have X-ray vision,” she reassured her image. But Will would know. She would be sitting across the table from him, but he would know that if she opened her thighs, nothing covered her.
A wave of desire and nerves washed through her, leaving her skin flushed. She blotted her face with one of the fancy towels, repainted her lips, and washed her hands.
There was no other reason to delay, so she smoothed her skirt down one more time before picking up her purse and the panties and pulling open the bathroom door.
The stretchy cotton fabric of her dress seemed to caress her bare buttocks with every step she took. As she walked from the lounge into the restaurant, she made the mistake of looking at Will. He sat sideways in his chair, his gaze locked on her as she came toward him.
It seemed as though he could see right through her dress to her nakedness underneath. She felt the flush rising on her skin again, but it was heady and thrilling this time. She could imagine his hand between her legs, the way it had been in the Jaguar. She felt a tiny surge of liquid heat on the insides of her upper thighs.
Now she had to get the panties into his jacket pocket. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of how to manage that under the watchful eye of the maître d’.
But Will was ever a gentleman. As she approached, he stood and came around to pull out her chair. When she was beside him, he turned to put his body between her and the rest of the room. He even held his pocket flap open, so she could easily slip in the handful of lace.
“I admire a woman who pays her debts,” he said, waiting for her to sit down before he pushed in her chair.
For the rest of the multicourse meal, he never said another word about their dare. However, every now and then he slid his left hand into his pocket. She could tell by the flex of his wrist that he was rubbing the lace between his fingers. Which sent a phantom touch between her legs.
The dinner passed in a sensual haze of delicious flavors on her tongue and embers of desire glowing low in her body. Watching Will across the table—the drama of his jewel-green eyes, the waves of his hair glinting with candlelight, the shadow painting the cleft in his chin, the shift of muscles under the drape of his suit—everything twined together and coiled inside her. When Perseus’s celebrity chef came out to meet her, Kyra could barely put a coherent compliment together because her brain was so fogged by wanting.
And then they were walking through the lounge on the way to the limo, Will carrying in one hand a box of tiny pastries that neither one of them had the patience to stay and eat. The other hand rested on the small of her back just above the curve of her bottom. She felt it like a brand, burning through her dress to spread heat where she wore nothing at all.
The elevator doors closed and Kyra waited, expecting his hand to drift lower.
“There’s a security camera,” he said, his voice tight. “Otherwise ...”
She nodded, slanting a glance up to find him staring straight forward.
The doors opened and the limo stood right where it had dropped them. Will waved off the driver and opened the door for her. She slid across the seat, feeling every puff and roll stitched into the leathercushion as it brushed against the sensitized spot between her legs. Will folded himself into the car and tossed the box of sweets onto the facing seat without any care about damaging the exquisitely decorated confections.
“I thought we’d go to my house in Manhattan,” he said. “I hope that’s all right with you.”
“I’d love to see it,” she said, her desire ratcheting up at the thought of what they would do there.
“We’ll wait if you want to, but ...” He turned the burn of his gaze on her.
The limo’s privacy screen made her bold. “No waiting,” she said, curling her hand around the nape of his neck and pulling his mouth to hers.
His arms went around her, one cradling her head, one around her shoulders. As their mouths met, he lowered her slowly to the seat so she lay on her back with him braced over her. Freeing his hands, he skimmed one up her thigh, pushing her dress up with his wrist, and then his finger was sliding in her.
He moaned. “You’re so ready.”
She bucked and mewed a protest as he withdrew his hand.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, yanking a condom out of his pocket and ripping the envelope open with his teeth.
She unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers, knowing that he watched her as she did it. When she pulled down his boxer briefs to free his cock, it sprang up hard and long. She circled her fingers around it and stroked once before he slapped the condom on. He bunched her dress up to her waist and settled between her thighs, positioning himself and then thrusting into her with one swift stroke.
“Yes-s-s-s,” he hissed between clenched teeth, his head thrown back.
“Oh, dear God, yes!” she gasped as he finally filled the ache that had built to a near scream inside her.
