How To Pleasure A Playboy(25)

"Does this thing have a zip?" he asked, running his hand across her back.

"Unfortunately not. It took both Ally and Geena to help me get it on."

"Hmm." With one smooth motion, he stood and lifted her to her feet.  Grasping the bottom of the dress, he worked it up over her hips,  fighting for every inch he revealed. But the end result was more than  enough reward. The sight of naked Lacey slowly appearing from underneath  was unbelievably sexy.

She had to cling to him to keep her balance on her high heels while he  lifted her dress. It came up around her waist a little quicker, then  progress slowed as he eased it over her breasts. Finally she lifted her  arms for him to pull it right off, and stood in just stockings and  heels. A sight that made him groan as his cock jerked and jumped, trying  to force its way free of his jeans.

He couldn't wait another second, not even the time it would take to lie  her on the couch or bed, so he lifted her instead. She wrapped her legs  around him, pressing herself against him. In two steps he had her on the  nearest piece of furniture, a small, high table, with her back against  the wall. With his jeans still on, it was sweet agony when she rubbed  against him. More than anything, he wanted to jerk his jeans open and  thrust inside her, but he needed to get a condom from the bedroom.

"I'm on the pill," she gasped into his mouth.

He broke off their kiss. "What?"

"Are you safe?" Her brown eyes were hazy with need, her lids half closed. "Because I'm on the pill."

"I'm safe."

At the words, her hands went straight for the front of his jeans, and she yanked them open.

The feeling of pushing inside her made his knees want to buckle. There  was nothing between his flesh and hers. Nothing to mute the incredible  sensation of sliding inside her.         

     



 

Her eyes closed and she moaned with pleasure. But when he was all the  way in, buried so deep he was afraid of hurting her, she opened her  eyes. Their gaze connected, in a moment so intimate it felt as though it  wasn't just their bodies that were joined, but their souls.

They were both experiencing the same thing. A joining deeper than words,  more intense than either had experienced before. He had no idea how he  knew she was feeling the same as he was, but somehow it was all in her  eyes. As if they'd silently communicated it between them, and were in  perfect agreement.

Her gaze touched something raw inside him. Something vulnerable. And he  felt a familiar doubt, remembering how sleeping with Michaela had  changed everything. It had been a mistake he couldn't take back, and  he'd sworn never to make it again.

Impatiently, he pushed the thought away. But he couldn't keep looking  into her eyes, and instead bent his head to kiss her throat. A deeper  kind of connection wasn't something he could afford.

Her fingernails dug into his back, and her legs hooked behind his  thighs. He moved hard and fast, using her cries of pleasure as his guide  to set the rhythm. With one hand he played with her nipple, and with  the other he held up one of her legs to angle himself into her. Then, by  hitching her leg even higher, he found he could brush his fingers  across her clit every time he pulled out of her.

Her moans intensified then, and he knew she was close. One more  lingering stroke with his fingers, then a deep thrust at just the right  angle, and her orgasm hit.

Without a condom between them, he felt every glorious convulsion. She  clenched and shuddered around him, driving him hard over the edge.

When they were both spent, they sagged against each other. Her leaning  on his shoulder. Him with one hand against the wall, and the other  running up and down her side.

Now Barry White was singing Can't get enough of your love, Babe, and he  found himself humming along with the song. She joined in, and for a  while they hummed in harmony. Until she suddenly broke off.

"What's that?" She squinted, frowning. "Without my glasses I can't see very well, but I swear that little black blob moved."

He turned to look at the large insect scuttling across the wall. "Cockroach. I've seen a few of them today."

"Gross." She wriggled, so he pulled away from her and helped her down  off the table. Her shoes had fallen off during their lovemaking, and she  was wearing just a suspender belt and stockings. "Don't suppose seeing  cockroaches makes you want to run back to your mansion?" she asked,  bending to pick up her shoes. "They're obviously breeding, just slower  than I'd hoped."

He shook his head with a smile, doing his jeans back up. "Maybe if there were a few thousand more."

"The exterminator promised we'd be knee deep. Only, I thought that would  happen before you were due to move out." Finding her glasses on the  couch, she jammed them on.

"Maybe they'll be inspired to breed faster now we've given them a show."

She wrinkled her nose, retrieving her lacy dress from the floor. "Would  you move out of here early if the rest of the floor fell in?"

"Don't get any brilliant ideas about sabotaging it. It's dangerous enough in here as it is."

Dress in one hand, shoes in the other, she let out a long sigh. Though  she was still practically naked, she didn't seem self-conscious, but at  home in her own skin. Looking at her, he had another of those moments of  doubt. She was so damn beautiful, so sure of herself, with her tight  little nipples pointing at him, and her wild hair curling around her  head like an exclamation point. He could so easily get too attached to  her, and what the hell would he do then?

"What would it take for you to decide not to pull down the Baxter?" she  demanded, frustration in her tone. "Because I can't let you do it. Our  readers would never forgive you. My father wouldn't forgive you. Can't  you see it solves everything if you leave it standing? For a start,  it'll mean we can keep on seeing each other."

He'd been about to pick up his discarded T-shirt, but now he stilled.  "You're saying you want to keep seeing me, but only if I don't tear down  the Baxter?"

"We get on so well." She sounded defensive now. "But once you pull it  down, there'll be no coming back. If I'm seen with you, I'll be  betraying all the people who've supported the Save The Baxter campaign."

He frowned, glancing at the dress in her hand. She'd had her friends  help her into it. Was her whole performance supposed to have been some  kind of bribe to stop him going ahead with his brother's building?         

     



 

"Is that why you got dressed up?" he asked. "To convince me?"

Her cheeks darkened. "Kind of."

He motioned to her naked body, his jaw clenching. "So this whole thing is part of the Baxter Games?"

"Of course not!" She sounded so shocked at the suggestion that his muscles loosened a little.

"I just thought I could get you to see how great we are together," she  said. "I don't want this to end, and I hoped you didn't either."

"This has been a lot of fun," he agreed slowly. "But I let Michaela come  between my brother and me, and I'm not going to do it again. No matter  how well we get on, I'm going to build my brother's building. And if you  can't understand that, then you're not the woman I think you are."

She stared at him for an endless time, her expression stricken. "I'm never going to change your mind, am I?" she said at last.

He shook his head. "One of the things I like about you is the way you  stand up for what's right. I have to do the same thing. And building my  brother's building, making up for the way I hurt him, is the right thing  to do."

"Then after this place comes down, we can't be together." Her voice broke a little, and she turned toward the bedroom.

He lunged forward and caught her arm. "Lacey, there's no reason we can't still see each other after-"

"Yes, there is." She pressed her lips together and he saw tears glisten  in her eyes. "And if you can't understand that, then you're not the man I  think you are."

The words stung. He understood how she felt. For years Bronson had used  public opinion to build his business, but he wasn't so ruled by it that  he'd stop seeing someone he liked for fear of what people might think.  Her father, though, was a different matter. He could see how much her  father's opinion meant to her.

Dropping Lacey's arm, he let her escape into the bedroom. He couldn't  deny that he didn't want what they had to end. But even if the Baxter  didn't exist, how could it possibly work?

He bent to pick up his T-shirt and pulled it on. Better to accept what  this was, and make the most of it while they could. He and Lacey had  only a couple more days to spend together, and he wasn't about to waste  it wanting something they couldn't have.





Eighteen





#TheBaxterGames Monday Day 6: Time running out! Desperate for last-minute idea to save my home. Anything considered.

Lacey leaned against the wall of Crystal's apartment, her eyes raw from crying.