CHAPTER 27 #4
And she was oh-so-very-tired of doing that.
“You are the one who picked up and moved to Vegas.” Claire carefully folded the soft white terry and replaced it on the towel bar.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “That I did.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the lipstick kiss, then caught his gaze and held it.
“And yet, you didn’t clean that off.”
Ian glanced at the crimson imprint of her lips, then looked down at his shoes. “Yeah, well ...” He cleared his throat. “I set up dessert in there.”
He waved toward the bedroom, suddenly looking apprehensive. Why did that make her happy?
He moved back to let her exit the bathroom. She glanced around the room and saw that he had placed the plate of eclairs on the coffee table in front of the love seat facing the window. She also spotted two plates and a short stack of white paper napkins.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned with a silver bucket that held a bottle of champagne, a white tea towel draped over his arm. “Your adult beverage, ma’am.”
She smiled. “I recognize that bottle.”
“I figured I’d go with what I know you like.”
He placed the bucket on the glass coffee table and grabbed the Dom Pérignon by the neck. The ice rattled in the bucket, and water ran down the sides of the green bottle as he lifted it. Ian wiped the bottom and set about removing the purple foil and undoing the wire cage.
The sexy déjà vu slammed into her, and she sat, pressing her knees together, watching.
Her gaze roved over him, from his blond hair to his shoulders, down his chest, over his strong arms to his beautiful hands, where she lingered.
The sight of those long fingers always sent a thrill coursing through her, and this time was no different.
Just like before, he smoothly popped the cork, and champagne gurgled onto his hand. Just like before, she wanted to suck it off his thumb.
He went to the small bar in the corner, extracted two flutes from the rack of glasses, then returned to pour the bubbling pink champagne. In those few moments, the atmosphere became so charged it made her breathing turn erratic.
Never in her life had she needed a drink more. Claire accepted the flute with slightly trembling fingers, feeling the familiar little electric current surge from his warm fingertips.
He raised his glass. “To …” He tipped his head. “To do-overs.”
“To do-overs.” Claire clinked her glass to his. “I think it went well. Thank you for that amazing lunch, by the way. I didn’t get to say that. You’re quite the chef.”
“I’m flattered you think so. But don’t make that pronouncement until you’ve tried one of these.
” He reached for an eclair and brought it to her mouth, nudging gently, tracing it lightly over her lips.
She felt the smooth, slick chocolate icing cool against her mouth and the velvety custard oozing from the end.
“Open.”
A little shiver ran through her. One word spoken in that voice, and she was aroused. She breathed in the scent of chocolate melded with vanilla custard. Her senses were now dialed to high, and she could smell Ian too.
Claire parted her lips and let him slide it in. She bit off the end of the eclair, closing her eyes with the pure eroticism of what he was doing.
Dear God, the man could turn dessert into a sex act.
She savored the heavenly, soft, creamy pastry, and a little moan escaped her. She didn’t know if it was the intense flavors rolling across her tongue or the man who stood before her, sexual tension emanating from him.
“You like that.” It wasn’t a question. And she’d heard him say those three words time and time again when he constantly asked for feedback as he did things to her body no other man had even dared to try.
She chewed a bit longer before she finally swallowed, and when she opened her eyes, it was to view the prominent bulge in those smooth black leather pants.
“I’m at a loss for words.” She meant it.
He nodded, put the rest of the eclair on a napkin, and handed it to her, seemingly satisfied with her reaction. “Words not necessary. Just eat.”
She remembered him telling her when they’d first met that he was a man of many secrets. That had proved true. He was a pilot. He was a chef. He wasn’t a biker, but he sure as hell knew how to ride a Harley well.
He was a sex god in bed.
Well, that last one was no secret. She set down the eclair, lifted her glass, and took a long sip, feeling the bubbles slip down her throat and tasting the complex fruity tang of the champagne.
She licked her lips. Given that he was bent on getting a do-over, did he intend to follow this champagne with a repeat of that night?
Nearly empty flute in hand, he sank down on the sofa beside her and took a long swallow.
She watched as he lowered it, drawing his tongue over his lower lip.
She wanted to feel his arms around her so badly, to lose herself in him and forget everything for a while.
Everything but him and the way he made her feel.
He tipped back his blond head, draining the glass in one big swallow, setting it down with a decisive clink.
Claire felt her breath quicken. Her heart began to pump in that erratic rhythm he always seemed to cause. She couldn’t stand it anymore; she had to touch him. She found his thigh and started inching upward.
He looked down at her hand. With a slight frown, he gently caught her wrist.
And then, he turned the full force of his piercing blue eyes on her. “We should talk.”