His hands stroked lower, dipping into the V between my breasts. “And here,” he murmured. And before another moment passed, he pulled me off his lap and sat me beside him on the couch, slipping one strap off my shoulder. I felt the cool air touch my naked breast.
Here we go, I thought. It was not unlike staring over an abyss from atop a rollercoaster that had just paused before plummeting full speed down the hill. My stomach dropped.
I opened my eyes. He was watching me as his hand came up to cup my breast. The breath hissed out between my teeth and his eyes—if it was even possible—seemed to darken.
I’d never exposed myself to a man before. Not like this. Back when I’d dated, there’d been the typical groping in the dark underneath our clothes, parked at the overlook on the Ridge or one of the other places frequented by teenagers. That was as far as it had ever gotten for me before I’d shut it all down and vowed never to date again.
He ran a thumb over the already erect nipple and his breathing quickened. I reached up and grabbed his tie, pulling his mouth to mine. The kiss immediately deepened, his mouth crushing against mine, owning the kiss, like I presumed he owned everything else around him, with confidence, surety.
But his mouth didn’t stay on mine for long. Soon he was pushing me back on the couch, so that I lay flat on my back. He hovered over me, hurriedly undoing his tie, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his dress shirt.
With each motion, those black eyes pinned me down—almost dared me to look away. And I couldn’t. I was so turned on I could barely breathe, the tightness between my legs knotted so that it was almost painful.
When he settled against me again, his erection pressed against my leg. I almost jumped when I realized what it was. I was under him now—half wondering if he would even bother to move us to the bed for the actual consummation of our deal. I supposed there were worse places one could lose one’s virginity than the couch in the penthouse suite of the most luxurious hotel in Amsterdam.
His mouth was on mine, pushing his tongue into mine with urgency, ferocity. He lifted up his body enough to pull the other strap of my dress down, baring me to the waist. I was too delirious with the sensations he was evoking in me to feel embarrassment.
Then his mouth was on my neck, my throat, gliding along my collarbone before it settled on my nipple, licking and sucking tenderly.
White-hot fire blossomed from my breast and I gasped, arching my back. He surged against my leg. If he pushed up my skirt and did it here and now, I would have no complaints. I couldn’t wait much longer.
And I’d never even bothered to ask Heath how long this would last once it started.
I wanted it to last forever.
My fingers clutched at the nape of his neck, wanting to drag his gifted tongue and hot mouth to my other breast. The throbbing tension inside me grew impossibly urgent.
“Adam,” I whispered. “I want—”
And that’s when his cell phone rang.
At first he froze but didn’t move, his mouth still pressed to my nipple, his body tensing beneath my hands.
It stopped. After not even ten seconds, it started ringing again. He lifted his head and sat back, fishing it out of his jacket pocket.
When he looked at the caller ID, he exhaled sharply. “Fuck.” And then he put the phone to his ear.
“What?” he barked, and I felt sorry for whoever it was on the other end of the line.
I sat up and looped the straps of my dress over my shoulders, my body throbbing from lack of release. Adam looked at me as he listened for a long time on the phone without saying a word. With each passing minute, his face grew grimmer. I reached over and put a reassuring hand on his thigh and he immediately stood up and walked to the window.
“How bad is it?” he finally said, his posture stiff, his shoulders tense.
I grew cold without his body heat near me. I grabbed my wrap off the back of the couch and pulled it around my shoulders.
“Walt, it’s fucking midnight here, the team is still at work. They have mandatory overtime in all their contracts. They’re putting in late hours tonight.”
He turned back to me and shook his head apologetically. I shrugged, giving him a smile. I could be patient. He could deal with this and then come back to me. Strangely, I wasn’t tired at all despite the lack of sleep in the previous twenty-four hours.
“No,” he said, and it was a sharp, irritated sound. “I’ll handle it. That won’t—I said I’ll fucking handle it, but no one goes home, is that clear? If they do, then they clean their desk and take their shit with them.”
He started to pace in front of the window and I sat back, reminded of a puma. His movements were sleek, graceful. I could watch him walk for hours. It would be better if he were only wearing that white towel around his hips, though.