The Pleasure Chest Box Set(28)

I eat my fill, and then return to my wine. I may beg him to let me take home some of that food, though. If he’s going to give it away, I will be a happy recipient. “So,” I say when I’ve curled up comfortably, staring down into my wine glass. “You promised to tell me everything.”

“I did.” He picks up his own wine glass. “Refill?”

I stretch my legs out on the couch, and my feet are just barely touching his leg. There’s a kind of gravity between us, begging us to touch, but I resist. “What do you do for a living?”

Jet clears his throat. “I’m both the CEO and the main designer for a company. I introduced you to it earlier today—KINdred Spirit Toys. The KIN stands for Kincaid.”

Everything starts to click into place in my head. “You’re a sex toy designer?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I’ve been doing it for a long time, but I started this company relatively recently. This is the first time I’ve had a line that’s my own.”

“So when you came into the store?”

He grins. “Competition research. I really did want to know about that toy I gave you. And then I saw you, and I was just…blown away.”

I look down at the wine in my glass, hiding my blush. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“A couple of reasons. First, I didn’t want to get you into any legal trouble. If someone accused you of corporate espionage—not that likely, but you never know—that would be serious. Second, everything was so precarious, just on the verge of coming together, that I was afraid that even a little word getting out about my launch would make someone else sweep in and try to stop it. Sex toy companies can be pretty brutal to each other, it’s a competitive business.”

“So you didn’t trust me?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

“It wouldn’t necessarily have been you. If you had even mentioned to someone in the store that you were helping a new designer, word of mouth moves quickly in this world.”

“Okay.” I suppose I can’t really blame him for a lack of trust after a three-day acquaintance, it was the same rationale I was using to help me get over him. “So where were you? Why were you in Singapore?”

“And Tokyo.” He leans forward and places his glass on the table, bracing his elbows on his knees. “The final stages of design and the start of production. I needed to be there to oversee the start of everything, make sure the molds were solid and that the toys were coming out at the level of quality that I wanted. I added a few new toys to the production line too. Honestly, I feel like I’ve barely slept in the last six weeks.”

“How did we start selling your toy so quickly then?”

“I had an early batch shipped to all the stores in New York. I want to see how people react to them here.”

I nod. Everything he says makes sense, and everything he says rings true. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he was a ghost. “But why didn’t you call me?”

“Yeah, about that…” He rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t have an excuse for it. When I didn’t hear from you—not realizing the thing about the phone—I thought maybe I had done something wrong. That maybe you didn’t want to hear from me. And then that one night I figured I would try turning on the We-Vibe on the off chance you would put it on. That you might know that I was definitely interested and then you would reach out. But I could have made a better effort. I should have made a better effort.”

“Seems like both of us drew the short end of the stick on that one, in terms of communication. But if you had told me you were going out of town, even if you hadn’t been able to tell me why, I would have understood.” I put down my glass, and stand. Aware that the move is going to make him even more aware of my body.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sighs, standing too. “I know that saying I’m sorry doesn’t make up for it. And I know that saying it won’t happen again is just words. But I promise if you decide that this isn’t our last night together, I won’t waste that chance.”

I walk towards the windows, confused. Everything in me wants to give him that chance, but after all this time, I’m hesitant. I don’t have to decide in this moment. I promised him one more night, and I want that as much as he does. But I can’t get that little knot of worry to leave my chest. He approaches me from behind, and his fingers roam up and down my sides. “I still haven’t decided,” I say.

“You take as much time as you need,” he says. “Even if you wanted to banish me and take me back a hundred times, I’d say yes to you.”

My breath stills in my chest at the declaration. He wants me. Do I want him for longer than tonight?

“You’re tense,” he says.

“Am not,” I say, intentionally hunching my shoulders.

He chuckles, and the warmth of the sound lightens the atmosphere again. “How about a massage? Maybe it’ll help get out these knots. Help you relax.” His fingers are on my shoulders, and the thought of a massage sounds absolutely amazing right now. The last time I had a real massage? Years.

I turn to face him, taking the time to run my hands across his ribs. “That sounds amazing.”

He presses his lips to mine, and for just a moment I lose myself. We’re tangled up in each other before we catch ourselves. He pulls away. “Massage.” He tugs me along with him across the apartment to a wide arch that opens into his bedroom. The space is dominated by a truly huge bed, and I’ve rarely seen one more inviting. The linens are a blue so deep it’s almost black, with a pile of cream and silver pillows. He grins at me. “Luckily we’re doing some testing for massage oil and lube. I have some samples I brought back with me.”

I laugh. “Sure you didn’t plan that?”

“I mean, I’m not saying that these samples didn’t influence my offer at all.” He comes back holding out a couple of bottles for my inspection. “I have vanilla and strawberry.”

“Mmm. Vanilla please.”

He puts the strawberry aside. “Now Ms. Bishop, I know that the dry cleaning expenses are high for dresses, but I’ve heard that they’re ten times higher for sexy lingerie.”

“Oh really?”

“It’s true,” he says lightly, “and I would hate for lingerie like that—which is fucking hot—to be damaged in any way by a massage.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed. “You have a fair point,” I say, “and I do really like this bra.” I reach behind my back and undo the clasp, shrugging the bra off and letting it fall to the floor. I see Jet tense, his eyes now glued to my breasts. I lean back, rolling over onto my stomach, and when I peek over at him he’s still staring, now at my ass. “See something you like?”

His eyes flick to mine, that wicked little smile making its first appearance of the night. He kneels next to me on the bed, pouring some oil into his hand. His hands spread across my back, and the oil seeps into my skin. I’m surrounded by the scent of vanilla. Jet’s actually very good at this, and the movement of his hands is at once relaxing me and turning me on. His fingers dip below the hemline of my underwear, and I make a scolding sound. “Careful where you touch me during the massage,” I say playfully.

In response, Jet spreads his hands down the sides of my ribs, curling underneath me until my breasts are in his hands. “I want to touch you everywhere,” he says, and his voice is deeper than it was before. His hands squeeze me, and the feeling races straight to my clit. I’m going to be begging him to take me if he keeps up with this kind of massage. His fingers are in the waistband of my panties again, this time pulling them down. The oil and his hands spread over my ass, massaging deeply, slowly moving closer to between my legs where he can reach my pussy.

Just when I think he’s going to touch me there, he abandons my ass completely, returning to my back and working the knots in my shoulders. “Turn over,” he says, and I do. His hands never leave me, making a seamless transition from massaging my shoulders to massaging my chest. But now I can see him, the way the muscles in his arms are working as he runs his fingers along my ribs, the way his hair is falling into his eyes as he leans over me. He touches my breasts again, taking the time to tease my nipples, pinching them and pulling them outward, leaving them hard and aching for more.

As Jet moves lower, my anticipation rises. With every touch of his hands I’m getting more wet, and I want him to reach my pussy. I want him to touch me there. His hands reach the skin just above my clit, and I press my hips up into his hands. He laughs, finally dipping his fingers through my folds. I gasp, back arching, as his middle finger slips inside me. “You’re so wet,” he says, curling his finger to touch my G-spot.

“Yes,” I manage to say, and I’m not sure if I’m agreeing with his statement or telling him I love it. Both are true.

“Close your eyes,” Jet says. I follow his instructions, and his fingers leave my pussy. I hear his footsteps as he moves away, going across the apartment and coming back. “Open your legs for me.”