Scent of a Woman. Jo Leigh

that somehow made the whole thing work. The space was large, for Manhattan, with a nice sitting room, a wet bar, and, of course, the bedroom. She could see the bed from there. Unique for a hotel because of the wrought iron head and baseboards, it was also a California king, big enough for three. Not that she’d ever know that firsthand. Oh, God. Maybe this was a mistake. A colossal error in judgment. There was still time to back out.

      She turned to David, and his excitement fairly vibrated. Which made sense. It was exciting. And dangerous. And wicked as all get-out. Well, if she was going to go down in flames, she wanted to do it with this man. He was extraordinarily beautiful, in a completely masculine way. Granted, his jaw was too square, his nose too big, but that added to his attractiveness. If she’d been a painter, she would have done canvas after canvas of his face, from every angle possible. Something told her it would be time well spent.

      He took her coat from her arm. “Would you like me to order drinks?”

      She nodded. “Champagne?”

      “Good. Anything else?”

      “Not unless you’re hungry.”

      His lips curved into a sort of grin.

      “What?”

      “This is a most unusual night.”

      She grinned back. “I would have to agree.”

      “What are your thoughts about actually moving into the room?”

      “We’ve come this far,” she said, liking him more by the second. “We might as well go all the way.”

      His left brow rose and she realized her double entendre. “Go call room service.”

      “I will in a moment,” he said. “But first, there’s something I need to do.” He took her coat and laid it over one of the wing chairs. His own coat followed. Then his suit jacket.

      Her eyes widened at the contrast between his shoulders and his hips. And when he turned she got a nice long look at his behind, which was as stunning as anything she’d seen in ages. She wanted to touch it. Run her hand along the curve.

      He turned, walked up to her, lifted her chin with the side of his finger until she met his gaze. Then, slowly, he bent and kissed her.

      Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the tenderness of his lips. It was a soft kiss, a brush, barely touching. Puff of breath, and she could taste him, breathe him in, and she leaned in, wanting more.

      He obliged, but in his own time. “Susan,” he whispered against her lips. Then a soft, cool kiss that lingered, deepened as the seconds ticked by. As the night changed from question to promise.

      Pressing harder, he used his lips to open hers, then his tongue flicked once, twice against the soft inner flesh under her top lip. Her gasp gave him full entrance, and he took advantage of the situation. Now he explored her more fully, not rushing, languid, as if he needed to learn every taste, every nuance.

      She put her hand on his neck as she did her own exploration. Teasing heat and a flavor that was completely new. Completely David. Her fingers moved up into his hair, and she could hardly believe how soft, how smooth. She moaned as his arm went around her waist and he pulled her tight against him, and when he shifted his hips, she felt his hard length press her lower belly.

      She shivered at the contact, at the heat. He thrust into her mouth, and she captured his tongue, sucking hard. It was his turn to moan.

      His arm stayed around her waist, although he loosened his hold. His eyes were half closed, lazy with desire. She could see herself with him, in the bed, naked and touching and doing everything that pleasure would allow.

      But that wasn’t her plan. If she didn’t do something about it now, she would be lost. This was her party, and she was going to keep it that way.

      As he moved to take her mouth once more, she leaned back and shook her head. “Champagne,” she whispered.

      He looked into her eyes, letting her know he wasn’t through.

      He let go of her waist and walked to the phone by the couch. The thick outline of his cock pushed against the fine wool of his pants. As he spoke to room service, he turned away, and she felt a flush on her cheeks as she realized he’d watched her checking him out.

      Luckily, her desire wasn’t so obvious. It was the only thing that made her plan workable. If he had any idea what he did to her…

      She grabbed her purse and made a dash for the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she leaned against the cold wood and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

      This was unbelievable. Completely outside of her experience. She’d been with a few other men. Men she wasn’t in love with. A long time ago she’d come to terms with her sexuality. She liked it hard, fast, uncomplicated. But this…

      This was thrilling. Seductive. Erotic as all get-out.

      Pushing herself off the door, she went to the sink, where she fixed her makeup and brushed her teeth, using the time to calm her racing heart. Although she wasn’t very successful at that, she was able to map out the next few steps.

      The champagne would arrive, they’d talk. Not touch. She needed him pliant, obedient. After seeing his erection, she was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

      Then she would begin. She’d make it an evening neither of them would forget.

      When she went back into the sitting room, David stood by the window, looking down at the traffic below. He’d loosened his tie, but hadn’t taken it off.

      Slowly, he turned from the window, his face pensive, questioning.

      “What’s that look?” she asked.

      “Just thinking.”

      “About?”

      “Us.”

      “Go on.”

      “I don’t feel any hesitation about this. Which is odd. I mean, we’re strangers. We don’t even know each others’ names. You could be—”

      “Anyone. I know.”

      “But not really. We can only be who we are.”

      She walked across the room until she was very close to him. “Ah, but that begs the question, who are we, really? Are we the same person with the lights out? With a stranger on the fifteenth floor?”

      “I don’t know the answer to that.”

      “I don’t either. It’s going to be interesting to find out.”

      He studied her face intently, looking at everything—her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. “I think we all have many natures. Some much darker than we’d care to admit.”

      Her hand went to his face and she traced a line down his jaw. His skin felt warm and smooth. He must have shaved recently. Her exploration was good, but it wasn’t enough. She found herself wanting to taste him, to lap his face like a grooming cat.

      “Why did that make you smile?”

      “A rogue thought,” she answered. “Actually, I think it’s true. We do have our darker selves. I don’t mean evil, although I suppose that’s part of it, too. I mean wicked. Desires we’d never admit to another soul for fear they would run away in horror. Or at the very least never invite us to another cocktail party.”

      His grin changed his face. Made him all the more accessible, but a moment later, his face grew solemn again. “What if you could tell someone those thoughts? What if you knew, completely and without reservation, that there would be no bad consequences. You wouldn’t be shunned, or made to feel guilty, or wicked. What if it was all okay?”

      She took in another deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It might be very exciting.”

      He nodded.

      “And very fulfilling.”