Chapter 6
Chapter Six
H e was so good at finding the most sensitive parts of her. As if he knew her body inside and out. He made her world implode. She didn’t know if she could survive an entire night of this. He was just too, too good.
She’d turned the clock away so she wouldn’t have to think about when this would end. By God, she would enjoy every moment until the sun shone through the window.
He licked his way up her body until he lay on top of her, kissing her with the taste of herself all over his mouth. It was so erotic, so sensuous.
“I should’ve bought more than one condom pack,” she moaned.
He laughed. “We can send out for more.” Then he swiped his tongue across her lips, tantalizing her. “Or we can save the last condom for the finale. And do every other thing we can think of until then.”
His thoughts were so sexy. “I like that.” She pushed him to his back, crawling down his body until she could take him in her mouth. “Do you want to come?” she asked. “Or do you want to wait?”
He looked out the window at the halos of fog around the streetlights, then back at her. “Make me come again. I’ll still have more left for later.”
He was young, he was virile, he could go forever, she was sure. She took him in all the way, licking and sucking, holding him in her hand, squeezing him. Over and over until he trembled. She’d never had sex all night long. But everything was different with Clay.
When his body bucked and he shouted her name, she took every drop. And loved it.
They spent the next few hours in play, mouths and tongues and hands and fingers. He made her come so hard, tears leaked from her eyes. Her voice grew hoarse with her cries of pleasure. Her body had never felt so worshipped. And she became intimate with the timbre of his groans and growls.
She couldn’t say whether she fell asleep or passed out from pleasure overload.
But she dreamed of featherlight kisses on her neck and tender caresses across her breasts. Then a hand pulling her leg back over his thigh, spreading her for his sensual touch. Long, delicious minutes of play took her to the edge.
But this was no dream. Unless Clay was her dream man.
He nudged at her entrance, and she mourned the feel of the latex he’d donned. She wanted skin to skin.
Then she forgot all that as he teased her, seduced her.
She loved the intimate angle, her back to his chest as he slid slowly inside her, her ankle hooked behind his calf, holding herself open for him.
His fingers played an erotic melody on her body as he caressed her G-spot.
He touched her everywhere—kisses against her neck, breath across her ear, his hardness inside her.
He killed her with pleasure. She panted, moaned, cried out. Still, he took her with that slow, relentless stroke that never went deep enough yet somehow drove her to the edge of madness.
He withdrew, rolled her to her belly, stuffed a pillow beneath her stomach, and seated himself fully between her legs.
Then he drove fast, he drove hard. Burying her face against the pillow, she screamed out her pleasure.
She’d never wanted it this hard, but with him, it was so sweet, so good, so necessary to her whole being that tears pricked her eyes.
Her body clamped down on him, and her release catapulted her into ecstasy, going on and on in delicious waves.
He stiffened, pressed tight against her, his back arched as he braced on his arms. She wanted to see him, but she couldn’t turn her head far enough. A guttural cry fell from his lips as he climaxed against her womb, the feel of him vibrating through her chest and gripping her heart.
Finally, he fell prone on top of her, his weight luscious.
No man had ever been as good as Clay.
Maybe no man ever would be again.
He’d used the bathroom, and when he returned, Clay wrapped himself around her. He couldn’t say exactly when he fell asleep, but he woke to the foggy light of dawn. Saskia hadn’t moved. He couldn’t move either. The sweetness of her in his arms was too much to give up.
She’d said only one night. But one night would never be enough for him. Would she tell him her full name? Give him her phone number?
She held all the cards. Because he was the one who wanted to beg for more.
But she must have felt how extraordinary their night had been. She must feel that once would never be enough. He wanted to send out for more condoms. Maybe he could sneak down to the bar’s restroom and get another three-pack out of the machine.
Then he could seduce her into staying with him.
Maybe forever.
Saskia woke to the feel of him covering her like a warm blanket, the soft, crinkly sensation of his hair along her legs.
The sex had been ridiculously good. Amazing. Incredible. How many superlatives could she come up with? She’d enjoyed learning more about him last night in the bar, his list of three wishes so unlike a man who was only out for what he could take from other people.
Yet he was running a business she didn’t trust. The entire art world was full of greed. She’d seen it. She’d been a victim of it.
If only he wasn’t who he is.
He must have felt her stir because his breath brushed her ear, turning her liquid inside as he whispered, “That was amazing.” He stole the word right out of her mind. “When can I see you again?”
Her body wanted to say, Y es, yes, yes ! But her mind cried, No, no, no . In the time it took her not to answer, he said, “You are the most incredible lover I’ve ever known.”
A man like him must have had many lovers; she didn’t begrudge him that. It was his artists’ platform she wasn’t sure of. It was the way he could potentially use artists.
But after talking with him, after making love with him all night long, she wondered if he could actually be that kind of man. Of course, men like him could be deceptive. They told you what you wanted to hear. Just as he was telling her now.
“I know you said only one night.” He seduced her with a light caress down her arm. “But don’t you think what we had last night was too good to experience only once?”
She wanted to beg him to take her again, right now.
But that way lay madness. She couldn’t entangle herself with him. Not only because of who he was, but also because of her own complicated life. Pulling away, she climbed off the bed, reaching for her clothes where they lay with his in a mismatched pile on the carpet.
“It really was only for one night,” she said over her shoulder.
She pulled on her panties and leggings. Her nakedness didn’t embarrass her. But clothes were a fortification, and she pulled her flowered dress over her head before she looked at him.
He lay naked on the bed, covers pushed aside. They’d steamed up the room to the point where blankets and sheets were unnecessary. Lying there, he was like a statue by Michelangelo, the lines of his body perfect, his face sculpted like that of a Greek god.
“You don’t really mean that,” he said, his voice taking on a cajoling note.
She stuffed her arms into her tunic and tugged it down her thighs.
She admitted the truth as she met his beguiling gaze.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t great. I enjoyed every minute.
Like I said, it’s been a long time. You certainly lived up to all my expectations.
” She sat on the desk chair to put on her socks and boots.
“Can you really say no to at least one more time?”
“I can.”
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Maybe she had. But he was Clay Harrington.
She absolutely could not get involved with him.
It didn’t matter how he’d roped her in with all his talk down in the bar.
She couldn’t let herself be tricked and couldn’t let him add another complication to her life.
She stood as he rolled to the edge of the bed.
Oh, how beautiful he was. How badly she wanted to touch him, taste him, take him. For five years, she’d had a rule not to get involved, especially not with an artist and, even more, not with an art dealer . Everything about him violated her rules.
He strode toward her with the sinewy grace of a jungle animal. “Don’t leave yet. Let’s talk.”
If he touched her, she’d pick up the phone and have the concierge send out for another twelve condoms.
Instead, she backed to the door, put her hand on the knob, twisted it, and realized they hadn’t even locked it. Then she gave him her parting shot. “One time only.” She opened the door, hoping there was no one in the hall to see that he was completely naked, and slipped out.
Before she closed the door behind her forever, she said softly, “Believe me, that was the best one time I’ve ever had.”
Clay struggled into his clothing, almost tripping as he tried to get one foot into his pants. He felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t he dressed the moment she had?
There had never been a woman on earth who hadn’t said, “When can we see each other again?” It was programmed into their DNA.
Especially after a night like that. Clay had always been the one to put an end to things.
He didn’t treat women badly; in fact, he gave them exactly what they wanted.
He could gauge when a woman wanted something more permanent, and he steered clear, stuck to casual.
He didn’t want to break hearts, but he’d never allowed a serious relationship to take his eyes off the goal.
Relationships—and worse, love—were uncontrollable.
But no woman had ever said, Loved it, but it was one time only .
He’d thought their lovemaking would speak for itself. But now, he sat staring at the door, completely dumbfounded. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d become the woman of his dreams. And now she was gone? Just like that?
He sat there in just his slacks, his zipper still undone, his mind reeling. What the hell just happened?
He’d felt something for her when they had sex. He was positive she’d felt something too. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.
He needed to find her again.
But if he did, what would happen to his goals?
He didn’t want to be like his parents, so besotted with each other that there was no room for anyone else in their lives, not even their children.
They hadn’t planned for the future, leaving behind crushing debt when they died.
It had fallen to Dane and Ava to bail out the family.
The two of them had given up their university educations to go to work—Dane at a resort and Ava as an aide in a nursing home.
Of course, Dane had turned that job into a resort empire, and Ava had loved working with older people so much that it became a calling, providing eldercare with more than a hundred facilities in the US and internationally. And now they’d both found love.
But Clay wasn’t sure he could split himself between his goals and a relationship. He wasn’t ready for an intense love that would devour his life. He had so many things to do.
But there was something special about Saskia. It wasn’t only the sex. It was the connection he’d felt as they talked. It was how she’d exposed herself to him by revealing her trust issues. There was so much more to her than what they’d done last night in this room.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t ready for a relationship or a woman in his life. Or even love.
He had to find her.
But first, he called the robotaxi company and blistered them for almost running over the woman with whom he was completely infatuated.