“I’m due back the following Monday.”
“I’d imagine things are really heating up in France, with the race coming up.”
He nodded, his stare on her unflinching. “I regret having to be away so much now. We’ll talk more about you coming with me for the last trip, during the race itself. But not now.” He tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come. Let’s go finish our dinner.”
She followed him, sensing his focused intent, her heart beginning to pound out a warning, yet thrilling, drumbeat.
He turned on a bedside lamp, using a control panel on the wall near the door, and then dimmed it to a cozy, golden glow. The bed here was more streamlined and modern than the one at the Breakers, but it was just as large and sumptuously dressed in austere, masculine luxury with muted grays, dark browns, and creamy beige tones. The curtains were drawn, giving the room a hushed, secluded ambience. He set the bag he was carrying on a bedside chest of drawers. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the back of a deep upholstered chair, then set down his leather portfolio. She stood there, admiring his form and easy, athletic grace. Did his masculine confidence and beauty strike such a deep, compelling chord of longing and lust in every woman he seduced? Or was it singular in Emma’s case? Her heart sunk when she realized she was too inexperienced to know. She wasn’t even sure what the feeling was, let alone whether or not it was common. She watched, curious but also increasingly anxious, as he reached into his briefcase.
He withdrew a velvet drawstring bag and slid something out of it. He turned, holding the vibrator he’d used on her earlier today in his hand. Her eyes widened.
“Come here,” he said quietly when he saw she still stood just inside the threshold of the bedroom.
She walked toward him, unable to look away from his eyes.
“What . . . what are you going to do?” she asked when she came to a stop a few feet away.
His eyebrows arched. “The anxiety is back, I see. I thought it might make an unwelcome return. That’s why I brought the desserts. It’s hard to be nervous when you’re playing a game . . . and eating sweets, don’t you think?”
“Playing a game?” she asked uncertainly.
He held her stare and nodded. His aquamarine eyes looked softer than usual in the ambient light. “Take off all your clothes except for your underwear, and I’ll explain,” he said.
She swallowed thickly and set down her purse on the chair. She didn’t know why his request struck her as so intimidating. One had to take off their clothes to have sex, didn’t they? But he didn’t undress, she realized as she slid off her high-heeled sandals and unbelted her dress. He just watched her steadily, obviously interested, all the while holding that damn little instrument in his large hand. Both his hand and that vibrator had made her climax so efficiently earlier today that she’d nearly blacked out both times. Her core turned molten at the incendiary thought, but her skin pebbled when she lifted her dress over her head, exposing her bare skin to the cool air-conditioning and Vanni’s hot stare. She hesitated as she reached for the clasp on her bra, but then she met his gaze. Maybe it was just the lighting, but that atypical softness remained in his gaze alongside the heat of desire. It was like a reassuring caress. There was no logical reason why he should, given his apparent impenetrable confidence, but he felt compassion for her anxiety. He knew this wasn’t easy for her. The realization steadied her.
She dropped her bra in the chair on top of her dress and stood before him, naked save her panties.
“Now. What’s your game, Speed Racer?” she teased him warily.
His flashing smile was like a swift punch to the gut. She could really get used to seeing his unguarded, warm smiles. They were so rare and beautiful in comparison to his grim, cynical ones.
She could get dangerously used to them.
“It’s pretty simple,” he said, picking up the bag of desserts and walking over to a dresser. He opened a drawer and removed a long black scarf. He took all the items over to the bed and sat on the edge. Setting down the bag and the vibrator, he beckoned her closer. “You may have noticed that the desserts featured some kind of seasonal fruit in addition to other things, like chocolate, cake, pastry?”
“Yeah, I think so,” she said, even though she was struggling to remember precisely what was on the menu. She drew near him, stopping near his long, bent legs.
He held up the scarf. “I’m going to blindfold you and feed you the desserts, and all you have to do is guess the fruit correctly.”
“That’s all?” she asked warily.
“No,” he conceded, his shapely mouth tilting. He loosened his tie, holding her stare, and slid it from around his neck. The hissing sound of silk against cotton inexplicably made her sex contract and her nipples tighten. His gaze flickered downward to her chest, and she inhaled sharply.
He’d noticed.
“I’m going to bind your wrists in front of you,” he said, holding up his tie. “And I’m going to blindfold you, so you can’t see the dessert.”
Her eyes widened.
“It’s only fair. You’ll get them all correct, most likely, if you can see them.”
“Is that all?”
Her clit pinched tight when he slowly shook his head. He reached for the vibrator. “I’m going to put this in you,” he said, his voice a low, sultry threat.
Her eyebrows arched higher.
“There are four desserts in here. If you guess the fruit correctly, you get another bite.” The devilish gleam that entered his eyes made her heartbeat start to race. She’d never seen him look so playful . . . or so sexy. Sh