Kip was so hard inside his pants it was difficult to think of anything else. But he was somehow managing it. To a fantastic degree.
As the soft, warm skin of her inner thigh cradled his cheek, he stared up at her and the way her lips were still pursed after her statement, and all he could do was think.
Think about all the things she’d said before he’d flown across the room and pinned her against the wall. Think about the way his heart ached even more than his cock at present, and that was really saying something.
Think about the way she’d tasted as he’d licked her to orgasm twice. The way he didn’t feel life was so hopeless and scary because she believed in him.
She believed in him.
His fingers tightened on her thigh.
“Kip?” She pulled one shaky hand from the wall and ran her fingers through his hair. He turned into the touch, forcing himself to keep his eyes open when they fluttered. “Don’t you want me to—?”
He kissed her fingers and shook his head. If she touched him right now, his going off like a rocket was the least embarrassing thing that could happen. The back of his throat felt full of words that—surely not—had the shape of . . .
He jerked to his feet, dropping her leg without ceremony. Victoria swayed and grappled at the wall, and, feeling like a heel, Kip gripped her shoulders and steadied her.
And again, those words crowded the back of his mouth.
I love you.
He clenched his teeth. You are an ass! He schooled himself to keep his grip light when his fingers wanted to tighten.
Two and a half weeks.
Two and a half weeks he’d known this woman. He’d never said those words before, and he was certainly not going to say them now, hours away from telling her good-bye.
But I feel them. God, how he felt them. No one had ever, in his life, said the kind of things to him that Victoria had minutes ago. No one had thought he was worth them.
Surely that was all that was going on here. Like a dog who had been whipped for years finding kindness for the first time. That was it. He didn’t—he swallowed—love Victoria.
That was impossible. He wasn’t that stupid.
But the way that the light bounced off her loosened hair and reflected in her enormous, brown eyes . . . maybe he wanted to be that stupid.
Fuck, she was so beautiful he hurt from it. Suddenly, he didn’t have to fight his hands to keep them gentle. He wanted to touch her softly. Reverently. He brushed his thumbs across her collarbone, and she relaxed into the simple touch, smiling with a gentle curve of her lips. Technically, he could call it a night right now. He’d pleasured her; she was satisfied. He could shake her hand and walk away. Their agreement would be over.
No. Need more time.
He swallowed. “Will you show me your ideas?”
Her gentle smile took on a bit more brilliance. “Of course. But . . . ”
Kip braced himself.
“I think we should go get something to eat while we do it,” she finished.
He was so relieved that she hadn’t blown him off that it took a moment for him to understand what she’d said. “Go out?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Like a restaurant?”
He felt his brow furrow. “With me?”
Her smile fell, and a flash of sadness passed through her vivid eyes. “With you. We’re friends, right? Friends eat out together.”
“But what if—”
“Friends eat out together,” she said more firmly this time. “And if we don’t leave this room soon, I can guarantee we won’t get any work done.”
Huh. Sure enough, he was lazily thrusting his erection against her soft belly. With a surprised laugh, he stilled his hips. “Point taken.”
“Grab my laptop bag.” She bent down and pushed her leg back through her panties and trousers. “And do you see the thumb drive anywhere? I dropped it.”
He spotted it on the lush carpet almost right away. He stooped to scoop it up and then held it to the light, trying to decipher what was written on the label. Hopes and Dreams.
“You’re going to show me what’s on this?”
She plucked it from his hand. “Well, not everything.” She winked. “Just the good stuff.”
Her hopes and dreams meeting his hopes and dreams. Why did the thought of that not send him running from the room? Why did it make him want to hold her? Kiss her hair?
I love you.
He pressed his lips together to capture some sort of noise. Victoria was finger combing her hair—which he’d managed to mess up spectacularly, he was proud to say—and trying to subdue it into a ponytail.
He’d never seen her wear a ponytail before. She pulled it high, wisps of hair falling down and framing her face. He swallowed hard.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“Where?”
She laughed. “To eat, Kip.”
Oh, yeah. He quickly located her laptop bag on the chair to his right and snatched it for her. “Sure.” Please don’t regret this.
Nothing bad was going to happen. Right? A simple meal with a woman he was having very unprofessional feelings for who thought he could do stuff. Real, meaningful stuff.
“Lead the way, honey.”
As they walked toward the elevators, he ached to hold her hand like they were fifteen. Luckily, when they got on the elevator, someone was already on it, so he couldn’t make a bigger ass out of himself by kissing the curve of her neck all the way to the lobby.
Damn, he had it bad.
Get it together!
They walked off the elevator together, and Kip, figuring they would simply eat in the hotel restaurant, stared at it in confusion as Victoria walked past it and continued through the revolving glass doors to the curb. He had to hoof it to catch up.
“Where are we going?”
She grinned up at him. “There’s a great falafel place just down the block.”
His brows shot up. He knew immediately which place she was talking about, and calling it a restaurant was optimistic. So was hole in the wall. “You do realize you’re a big girl and can eat big girl food, right?”
She wrinkled her nose, and his heart stuttered. “Falafels are big girl food. Snob.”
Well. That was a first. “Snob?”
“You heard me. Talking bad about my taste,” she muttered. “I’m with you, I might add.”
That desire to hold her hand became nigh impossible to bank. “Well, your taste there is faultless.”
She stopped in front of the “restaurant.” “I think so, too.”
God. If his heart kept panging like this, he was going to have to see a doctor. It couldn’t be normal. He tugged open the door, and she slipped past him into the dingy, greasy interior. Spices filled the air, and, despite everything, his stomach growled.
She turned twinkling eyes his way. “Heard that.”
He smirked. “I’ve already eaten, thank you.”
How she still managed to blush each time he teased her, he’d never know, but he was more than addicted to the pink tinge that covered her cheeks, throat, and—he knew—breasts. He flicked a glance at her chest and forced his gaze back up.
The woman had some fantastic breasts. He couldn’t wait to become reacquainted with them.
She marched straight up to the counter, and the employee behind it smiled with recognition.
Victoria Hastings, patron saint of dives. His cheeks stung as he fought back a smile.
She looked at him over her shoulder, and even that drove lust straight to his groin. The curve of her neck, the tender skin under her jaw—she was speaking.
He’d heard nothing. “What was that?”
She gave him the look that deserved. “Want me to order for you?”
Considering he had no idea what a falafel even was? “Yep.”
Victoria leaned over the counter and began ordering, but, again, Kip heard nothing, because the position she was in forced that gorgeous ass out, straining the seat of her pants. He knew her lacy lingerie was so thin it wouldn’t leave a panty line, but that didn’t keep him from tracing with his gaze the rise of her ass where he knew the lace cut over silky skin.
She spun suddenly and caught him ogling her—again.
He could safely say he’d never had this problem with another client. Hell, with another woman, period and full stop.
She walked his way, and the sway of her hips, the way she licked lips that were still swollen from his kiss—even that made the front of his pants tight. She stepped into his personal space, rose to her tiptoes, and whispered in his ear, “We’ll get no work done if you keep that up.”
And then, she bit his ear, and he made the most horrifying, desperate noise that echoed loudly in the empty restaurant.
She giggled as she fell back on her heels. “I cannot wait to get you alone again.”
He reached for her hand. “Don’t fight the feeling.” He was more than ready to tug her out of the restaurant and race back to their room.
She tugged back. “This is important.” He looked at her, and her soft brown eyes sucked him in. “You’re important.”
“Fuck.”
She raised her eyebrows. He cleared his throat and nodded toward a booth in the corner. “That work for you?”
She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, he worried she wasn’t going to let him get away without an explanation. Finally, she nodded and started walking toward the table herself.
Phew.
She scooted across the cracked, plastic seat and patted the space right next to her.
“Gladly.” He took it, pressing his hip against hers under the guise of leaning over to get her laptop out of its bag. He handed it to her silently and watched as she fired it up and plugged in the Hopes and Dreams thumb drive the way a dealer over on the Strip dealt blackjack.
Something about the thumb drive stuck in his chest; he couldn’t pinpoint why.
When a window automatically popped up on her screen, he couldn’t help reading the file names over her shoulder as she scrolled through them. Hopefully, he wasn’t far overstepping his bounds. “Ricchezza?” He pointed at the screen. It was the file name at the top, and, unlike all the other file names, was all caps. “If your hopes and dreams are The Ricchezza, honey, I’ll take you right now.”
His heart thawed of all tension when she laughed instead of swatting him and telling him to mind his own business. “No, not going there. It’s—” She stopped and looked at him. He could see her throat work around a harsh swallow. “Do you . . . want to see?”
Even an idiot would be able to tell that what she’d just offered to do was not normal for her. Tread lightly. “Very much.”
She double-clicked on the file, and a new window bloomed. She began chattering immediately, jabbing her finger against the laptop screen as she pointed out item after item in what was an absolutely brilliant marketing campaign for the famous casino.
Kip had majored in marketing—it was the only way his parents would pay for college—and he had his mother’s natural knack for it. Had grown up cutting his teeth on it.
Victoria’s plan was unlike any he’d ever seen. A mix of relying on The Ricchezza’s already sterling ethos while taking the casino in new directions. It was going to put her on the map in the marketing industry.
The whole reason he was a gigolo was because his parents had cut him off when he refused to go into advertising like his mother expected of him. But the very thought of being like his mother turned Kip’s stomach. If he’d known advertising could be like this? He’d have jumped into the profession with both feet.
As her excited explanations began to taper off, her anxious stare burned his profile. He flicked a quick glance her way; she was chewing on her bottom lip.
He turned bodily toward her. “Victoria.” He ducked his head to make sure their gazes were locked and level. “This is incredible.”
She blushed again, but for the first time since they’d met, it was for a reason other than sex.
“They’re going to snap this up like crazy.” He snapped his fingers for effect. “So, what’s next?”
She tilted her head. “Next?”
“Yeah. After they hire you. What else is on the thumb drive? Dream house? Dream vacation?”
She puckered her lips as though the words he’d uttered had no meaning in the English language.
And, suddenly, the reason he’d been wary about her Hopes and Dreams thumb drive surfaced. She has no hopes and dreams.
This—a marketing plan—would not satisfy the woman he was getting to know. Victoria not only deserved the world, but she also wanted it. It was obvious in everything she did.
It was, apparently, not obvious to her.
He saw the exact moment she realized she didn’t have a life blueprint beyond winning The Ricchezza. Her jaw clenched, then something resembling panic flashed through her eyes.
Instinctually, he reached for her hand. Stroked his thumb across her delicate knuckles. “Victoria—”
“Ready to see some business ideas?” she blurted. She jerked her hand from his and began clicking on files.
“Um.” His empty hand hovered awkwardly between them, and he quickly placed it on the tabletop. “Yeah, sure.”
When she started blinking rapidly at the screen and her mouse hand shook a few times, Kip thought his heart was going to fight its way up and out of his throat to get to her. He gently laid his hand over hers, quelling the shaking the only way he knew how. He gathered all his courage. “You help me figure out mine, I help you figure out yours?”
The words were too quiet, too timid; what if she hadn’t been able to hear them and he’d have to find the courage to say them again? Her hand was so warm, so slight beneath his. A fierce protectiveness he’d never felt before surged through him.
After an interminable silence, she slowly turned her head toward his. Her eyes seemed impossibly bigger and sparkled like gems with—he realized with a gut wrench—unshed tears. She stared at him for several seconds. Finally, “Okay.”
His chest puffed so big, one would have thought she’d just handed him an Olympic medal for best move in an awkward situation. “Okay,” he repeated softly.
There was a loud clack, and both Kip and Victoria jumped. His gaze swiveled around to find an equally startled restaurant employee staring at them. “Um,” she said, “your order is ready.”
Sure enough, there was a tray loaded with food. The source of the clack apparently. “Thank you.” When he looked back up, the employee was glancing back and forth between Kip and Victoria, her brown eyes lighting up and a smile beginning to dawn. Great. So, he looked as besotted as he felt. Just great.
“Enjoy,” she said in a lascivious tone before turning and walking back to the counter.
After an interminable, awkward moment when they just sat silently next to each other staring at their food, she reached forward and snagged a falafel. Kip automatically followed suit, but when the spicy, flavorful bite he took registered with his brain, his eyes widened. “This is good!”
She laughed around a bite of food, and, just like that, all the awkwardness vanished. “I told you.”
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her sideways. “Now I’m actually going to have to eat something from Sally’s, aren’t I?”
She raised her brows. “You mean, you haven’t yet?”
“No! What am I, crazy?”
“Yes.” She grinned at him.
He grinned back, and the urge to touch her nearly strangled him in its intensity. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She tilted her head into the simple touch and leaned forward, almost as though she wanted him to kiss her.
And, God, he wanted that, too.
Her eyes were wide when he met her in the middle, and they paused, their lips just a breath apart. His fingertips still on her cheek, he brushed down that soft skin until he could slip a finger under her chin and tilt it up. Then he brushed his lips over hers.
It was a simple, chaste kiss. The most innocent he’d ever given. It rocked him with lust. He forced himself to back up, to lower his hand, because if he didn’t, he was going to push her into the back of the booth and press his body into hers, their meal entirely forgotten.
She stared up at him with foggy eyes, and he was struck anew by both her beauty and the urge to smile. Not bad for a simple kiss. He had to distract them both. “How about those business ideas, hmm?”
She blinked once. Twice. “Oh, yes.” She looked down at the keyboard, and after a moment, straightened. “Right, business ideas.”
This time, there was no stopping his grin. Victoria clicked on some files, took a bite of her falafel, and then launched into business, slipping seamlessly from one type of woman to another in the span of a hot second.
A very hot second.
As Kip scooted in close—for the sole purpose of seeing the screen clearly, of course—he became even more undeniably aroused by the brain this woman possessed. These ideas for his future business were stunning in both their intelligence and possibility of success. Personal concierge, social media coordinator, graphic design, event planner.
His own brain started firing, and suddenly, his fuzzy future looked a lot clearer. Not only didn’t he hate any of these potentials, but he could also see himself loving any one of them. Could see the life he’d always dreamed of coming into focus.
Things really started clicking, though, when he fired out advertising ideas of his own for some of these businesses. Cross promotions he could work out with limo services in the area. An interactive website. He was shocked when, more than once, she said, “Oh, that’s good!” And then her fingers would fly across the keyboard, and there his idea was, nestled in among hers.
She wouldn’t do that just to humor him, would she? She had to think his advertising ideas were really good. Right?
Oh, God. He was shocked by how much that meant to him. By how much this work fulfilled him.
Maybe I made a mistake rejecting advertising?
He shoved the thought away, not ready for it to ruin what was turning out to be one of his favorite evenings ever.
They finished their meal but continued to sit companionably hip to hip and go through everything Victoria could put in front of him, bandying advertising ideas back and forth. Kip hadn’t been aware of the passing time until lights began flicking off in the kitchen behind stainless steel swinging doors.
He glanced at the clock in the bottom right corner of the laptop; it was nearly eleven.
“Is it really that late?” Victoria asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” Fuck. The night was almost over. He stretched, and the muscles in his shoulders and neck twinged, making him wince. If he hurt there from bending over the laptop . . .
He reached out and kneaded the base of her neck, and her head dropped forward. She moaned, and Kip swallowed hard. “Need a backrub?” Please say yes. Please say yes.
“God, yes.”
Yes! Kip nodded toward the laptop. “Save your thoughts, honey.”
Victoria clicked the mouse several times and then closed the laptop. Taking that as his cue, he gathered her computer and slipped it into the bag she always carried. Then, he scooted from the booth and held out a hand to her.
Almost shyly, she placed her fingers in his. As they began walking toward the door of the restaurant, the same woman who had delivered their food hours ago hustled their way, a key ring jostling in her hand. With a sly smile, she unlocked the door for them—they’d been so engrossed in each other they’d missed her locking it, apparently—and then held the door open as they entered the night. “Have a good evening, you two,” she called.
Oh, I plan on it. Kip drew her to his side amid the clatter of the door being locked once more behind them. He dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead. She fit perfectly in the notch of his side, and as they walked toward the hotel, the lights from the Strip several miles away cast the sky in an eerie and magical glow.
“I love those lights,” she sighed.
I love you. Kip sighed, resigned. He was going to have to swallow those words at a continual pace tonight, it seemed, until he came to his senses.
He didn’t notice the desk clerk or anyone else—if they even passed others—as they made their way to their room. All he could think about was that he was finally going to be able to put his hands on her again.
Finally. As though they hadn’t been nearly naked with his fingers inside her just hours ago. Doing something he’d never allowed himself to do with another client. Something that, with anyone other than Victoria, would have been risky, what with the act’s inherent intimacy that could surpass intercourse in the right situation.
He definitely didn’t suffer from any feelings of regret.
He closed the bedroom door behind them and flipped on the light switch right beside it. She turned, and her greedy gaze roved all over him, stopping at—what he knew now after many nights—were her favorites: the hollow of his throat, his chest, his thighs. Then, back up, and up, and up her gaze went again until it met his.
Slowly, she raised her hand and pulled her ponytail free. Thick, honey hair tumbled down around her shoulders, whispering against the soft skin covering her clavicle—one of his favorite spots. One he wanted to be licking and biting right this second.
He pushed away from the door, and her pupils expanded, gobbling up that sweet, rich brown as he strode toward her. Needing the control it would buy him, he would undress himself, first. He knew the moment she was naked, he was going to have the fight of his life ahead of him to keep calm and make sure this was slow. Sweet.
Because, for some reason, he wanted slow and sweet more than he wanted anything in the world right now.
When he popped the button beneath his throat, Victoria’s lips parted. Her gaze darted to his fingers and held, then followed them as they made their way down the rest of his buttons. He half expected her to brush his hands away and do it herself—something she’d done each time they’d been together, as though she couldn’t wait to see him. But, against all his expectations, she simply watched raptly.
Maybe it was the same for her, the barely contained control. Maybe she was as conflicted as he was, and this was one way she was holding on to her restraint. He could hope at least. And he really liked the idea of her seething beneath the surface, needing him more than she knew how to handle.
He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders. Her doe-eyed gaze followed it to the floor, and by the time it rose again, his fingers were working at his belt buckle.
The slow, steady rise and fall of her breasts began to accelerate. His fingers stuttered at his zipper, his focus too embroiled with what he knew lay beneath her blouse. He rallied and shucked his pants, his erection springing free.
A soft noise slipped through her parted lips, and he heard it with an echoing clench in his gut. His erection bobbed; her throat did as well.
And, still, she didn’t touch him with anything other than her gaze.
He stepped toward her, and the crown of his cock brushed against the soft satin of her blouse, momentarily distracting him with a shock of soft pleasure. He wanted to thrust there, feel her warm skin beneath cool, silky fabric. Instead, he raised hands that trembled slightly, making slow, clumsy work of her small, pearl buttons.
He was growing obsessed with her buttons. Each blouse she wore had them. Tiny, delicate. Hiding such wicked feminine decadence. For the rest of his life, Kip knew he would picture these buttons when he thought about the most arousing sights he’d ever seen. He untucked her blouse, then smoothed his palms over her shoulders, pushing the blouse down.
He’d seen her red lace thong before dinner; he had not seen the matching red lace bra. It was so sheer, he could see her mouthwatering, rose-colored nipples beneath. They pressed into the lace, straining it to miraculous lengths. The bra pushed her full breasts up to nearly the spilling point.
With a harsh swallow, he unhooked the clasp between her breasts, freeing them to his gaze.
“Oh, Christ.” His erection kicked again, this time brushing against the soft skin of her belly instead of her blouse. It left a trail of pre-cum behind, the tip of him sliding against her. He muttered her name—how many times, he wasn’t sure, but hopefully it was just once—and then cupped her breasts, savoring the soft scrape of her nipples against his palms.
His control shuddered.
He needed it too desperately to concede it now. He allowed himself only one gentle squeeze before he dropped his hands to her pants along with his gaze. If he looked at her breasts any longer, he was a goner.
Her stomach dipped as his fingertips brushed against it, and her breath fanned across his chest, quick and erratic.
He knelt and pulled her pants and underwear with him, skimming his fingers down the fronts of her thighs as he did so until he got to her knees. Once there, he stroked the sensitive back of her knee, raising first one and then the other as he took off the last of her clothes.
Then, he stood once more, allowing himself the unmitigated pleasure of looking at Victoria Hastings completely bare to him. He held stock still as his gaze hungrily devoured her, but not even that stillness lasted long. His hand found his cock, and without his permission, gave a stroke that curled his toes into the carpet.
He stopped himself, pulling his hand away and extending it toward her. With no sound other than her harsh breathing, Victoria again placed her hand in his. He swallowed hard as he led her over to the full-length mirror in the dressing area.
God, he wanted to look at her, to look his fill. But with her completely naked, with him completely naked. With the closeness he was feeling. With three enormous words clawing to get out of him.
He needed a little distance.
He stopped them beside the vanity. Her back was to the mirror, and she gazed up at him with complete and utter trust—a gift he knew she hadn’t bestowed on any man in a long time. It touched him deeply. With gentle hands, he grasped her shoulders and turned her until she faced the mirror as well.
Their gazes connected through the glass, and, just like he’d hoped, the intensity was less. Still more powerful than he’d ever felt with someone else, but manageable. If he took her here, in front of this mirror, he could have his soft and sweet. Would be able to give that to her instead of the frantic fucking they’d had every night since they’d met.
As he held her gaze, he threaded his hands through the space between her arms and hips, skimming his fingers across that delicate nip of her waist and to her stomach. Like a dream, she leaned back against him, capturing his throbbing erection in the small of her back and resting her head against his chest.
He skated his fingers up to her delicate ribs, counting each one he passed, and—finally—he cupped her breasts once more. This time, he couldn’t stop from groaning. Gave himself up to it, his hips thrusting, grinding his dick against her.
She moaned, too, arching her back into the touch, pressing herself further into his palms. He squeezed, and she moaned again. When he pinched her nipples, she cried out, and for a moment, he worried he’d been the same rough Kip he’d always been with her. Worried, even, that he’d hurt her. But her head rocked back and forth against his chest. She raised her own hands and covered his with them, and then she forced him to pinch her again, more firmly this time.
He bit out a curse. “Victoria.” He plumped her breasts. Pinched and teased her nipples. Within seconds, she was squirming against him. He relinquished one of her breasts. Wrapping his arm around her ribs in an embrace, he palmed her right breast with his left hand. With his now free hand, he circled her navel and then ventured down to her sex. Her arousal slicked his fingers, and, with a groan, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
“Please, Kip,” she moaned.
Yes. Anything you ask.
With his foot, he snagged the small, upholstered bench from the vanity. It traveled across the floor with a very unsuave screech. Once he had it where he wanted it, he leaned down. Grasping her behind the knee, he raised her leg until she planted her foot on the bench.
In the mirror, paradise opened for him. “Fuck.” He used his fingers to spread her farther. So soft and pink. So mine.
Just for tonight.
She moaned again and chased his touch with a small, frantic bucking of her hips. With a soft nip to the back of her neck, Kip eased his hips back. Bending his knees, he grasped his erection, directed it just where he wanted it, and . . .
Her eyes widened as he slid into her. That brown gaze of hers narrowed in the mirror, and she watched as her body took every inch of him into her. “Kip.” His name was desperate and barely audible.
The soft, silken clasp of her sex around his wrenched a groan from him, and then he froze. It was too good. Too silken.
“Condom,” he bit out from between tight lips. He couldn’t move, because if he did, he wasn’t going to have the strength to pull out of her.
She shook her head, her hair catching against his rough jaw. “On the pill.” She pulled in a ragged breath. “Clean.”
In an ordinary situation, with all his mental faculties firing, Kip would have pulled out, gotten a condom, and arranged for them to exchange medical histories outside a sexual situation. He would never, never take a woman’s word for it, nor would he expect her to take his. But with Victoria?
“Me, too.” He shook with the effort of holding still as their gazes connected once again in the mirror.
“Then fuck me.” She rocked back against him and he bit back a groan. “God, please fuck me.”
This time, he couldn’t bite back the groan, and when it rumbled up from his chest, it carried surrender. He thrust up into her, and pleasure lit all throughout his body.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone without a condom. It certainly hadn’t been in a professional capacity, which meant it had been years. And whomever it had been with, it dimmed to nothing in comparison to the feel of Victoria around him, squeezing him with her body, drawing him deeper than he’d thought he could go.
He thrust again, and she moaned. Then she brought her arms up, filling his palm with her breast even more, and wrapped them around the back of his neck.
Her fingers played with the hair at the base of his hairline, and she rocked back on him, grinding against him the only way she could in this position.
The sight of all that pink, swollen flesh in the mirror made Kip’s balls ache and semen climb his shaft within seconds. He wound his arm over her propped up leg and found her clit with his fingers. Pressing two over it, he circled firmly.
Her sex clenched in response, and he nipped her shoulder, trying desperately to delay the inevitable for minutes, even seconds more. “Victoria,” he groaned. He rubbed her clit again. And again. And then, praise God, her sex clenched and began undulating against him.
“Kip!”
He raised his head, catching sight of her rapturous face in the mirror. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Her breasts heaved and her stomach quivered. His name left her lips over and over.
He tightened the arm beneath her breasts, needing to be as close to her as possible. He pumped into her once, twice, and then froze as pleasure cascaded through him. He groaned her name as he began to jet inside her.
I love you.
Had he said the words out loud? “Oh, God.” He forced his head up from where his forehead was pressed into her shoulder, scanning Victoria’s face for any signs of horror.
Her eyes were still closed. Her upthrust breasts still bobbed against his arm. She moaned softly as her orgasm abated.
She showed no signs of hearing the words that had been screaming inside his skull as he’d emptied himself inside her.
Her knee buckled, and she slouched against him. Because he held her around the ribs, all he had to do to keep her from slinking to the ground was tighten his hold. His sweat-slicked chest slid across her back, and when he peered at her closer in the mirror, he could see a fine sheen of perspiration on her as well.
That pulled him from his funk with a small smile. Job well done.
Though, he frowned again, it had definitely not felt like a job. Hell, it hadn’t felt like a job since night one. And now, it was over.
To shut out his thoughts, he slowly pulled from the warm clench of her sex, unable to stop from groaning as he did so. There was one more thing he could do to delay the inevitable. One last, desperate bid for a few more minutes together. She gasped as he scooped her up in his arms and walked the few feet to the massive glass shower. Switching her weight to one arm, he reached in and started the spray, turning the dial three quarters of the way to hot.
It was too soon for the water to have heated up, but he nevertheless carried Victoria inside the shower, turning his back to the water so the ice-cold hit him instead of her. It was a much-needed slap of reality, and as goose bumps crawled all over his body and his nipples grew so hard they could cut diamonds, he gritted his teeth and welcomed it.
Victoria sighed and nestled her cheek against his chest. Despite the cold water, he felt warmed from the inside out.
When the water finally did warm up, Kip turned and sat on the bench, settling her across his thighs. He glanced down at her. She hadn’t moved at all since he’d scooped her into his arms. Her eyes were still closed, and now her thick eyelashes were dotted with droplets of spray from the showerhead, lending her an otherworldly quality that made him want to sit and stare at her even more than he normally did. She was so still she might be asleep.
At the thought, he cradled her closer, racked with the most absurd urge to rock her. Instead of that idiocy, he smoothed a palm over her hair, wetting it. Then, he reached over and snagged a bottle of shampoo and set about the unmistakable but unexpected pleasure of washing a woman’s hair.
It was a bit awkward with only one truly free hand, but as he scraped his fingertips across her scalp, she moaned deeply and snuggled in against him even closer, so . . .
Awkward be damned, he’d wash her hair all night long if that’s what she wanted.
However, with a sigh, her eyelids fluttered open. He smiled down at her, and when she smiled back, he realized he’d never seen her so utterly relaxed.
He’d done that to her. For her.
Something surged in his chest. He sat a little straighter.
“Want me to wash yours, too?”
Her hands on him again? “Yep.”
She breathed a laugh, and then she straightened. He immediately regretted his quick agreement if it meant she was leaving his arms. But then, things got even better. She turned toward him, and in a short series of moves, ended up straddling his lap, her knees planted on the tile bench at either side of his hips.
He gulped and immediately shot hard as titanium. She dipped a glance down at the erection now pressing into her inner thigh, and she wore a sly grin.
But she didn’t do anything else. Didn’t take him inside her, like he was half hoping she would. Didn’t make any sort of comment. Instead, she simply began washing his hair.
Despite the fact that this made her breasts bob right in front of his face—his mouth, for God’s sake—he didn’t wish she’d chosen a different action than what she had.
The first time a woman’s touched me in years without sexual intent.
Why did that rock him to the core? Why did the simple act of her washing his hair mean almost more to him than the hours he’d spent with this same woman in a knot of sweaty sheets? Why did his hands go to her waist and squeeze, just because he wanted to hold on to her? Feel her beneath his hands without having her body beneath his?
“Your hair is so thick.”
He blinked up at her. “What?”
She smirked again, and, swear to God, he wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face. What had she said? “Oh.” His hair. “Right.” He stroked up her back and liked it so much, he decided to stroke back down, too. So soft and silky. He did it again.
She moved slightly out of the way so the spray could hit his hair and rinse out the shampoo, and her shifted balance did amazing things to her breasts, which he had quickly grown obsessed with.
To keep his hands behaving, he reached for the bar of soap to his left. A perfect excuse to keep touching her, and a purpose that would hopefully keep his hands occupied. He started by soaping up her back, since his hands were already there. Far too soon, that task was accomplished, and he had to move his hands to much more treacherous ground.
As he washed her arms—a safe enough place to start—she sighed again and settled her bottom more firmly against his thighs.
I could get used to this. He washed her breasts next, and—damn him—he lingered. There was no way to avoid it. But just as her breathing started to hitch every other breath, and just as her skin started to pinken across the top of her chest, he forced his hands to safer ground, sweeping the soap across her belly and then thighs.
Last, he washed her gently between her legs—something he’d never had to do before with another client, thanks to his fastidious condom use. He braced for regret to course through him. He had violated a personal code of ethics, after all.
But as he washed his semen from Victoria’s pink, still-swollen flesh, he felt nothing but a completion that was as terrifying as it was gratifying.
By the time she was clean, she was also nodding, her eyes drifting open and closed in longer blinks. He held her against his chest, quickly rinsed himself off as best he could around her, and then carried her to the bed, snatching two fluffy towels on the way.
Propping her in one arm again, he spread one towel and then gently lowered Victoria to the bed atop it. She immediately spread out like the world’s most adorable, naked starfish, and Kip had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling and waking her up. He soaked up the rest of the water dotting her skin with the spare towel, and when she was dry, wrapped it around his waist.
He pulled the covers up to her chin, spread the wet hair he’d washed across her pillow. And then he stepped back.
This was always when he left. Hell, with another client, he’d have been out the door as soon as they’d finished.
He located his clothes with his eyes. They were in the same heap where he’d discarded them before taking Victoria’s clothes off her as soon as they got into the hotel room.
Ten steps away at most.
And, look there, his keys were on the table beside the door.
Get dressed. Get out. Go home.
Which is why he stared in horrified fascination at his hand as it drew down the covers beside Victoria.
What are you doing?
His body answered by sliding between the sheets until he was lying right next to her outstretched hand.
As though his body were a magnet for hers, her hand groped for him, found his shoulder. Next he knew, she was sliding across the bed in her sleep and curling against him.
And he loved the way it felt.
With a final sigh of resignation, Kip removed his towel and dropped it beside the bed. Then he slid his arm beneath her and hauled her close. Her cheek came to rest on the pad of his chest, her arm draped across his ribs, and her knee drew up and over his thighs until the heat of her sex branded his hip.
After only a slight hesitation, he reached over and clicked off the lamp beside them, pitching the hotel room into darkness.
Only then, when he couldn’t see himself breaking another of his ironclad rules, did he relax.
Unmatched comfort and peace rolled through him, and as his eyelids grew heavy, his final thought was a promise to himself:
I’ll leave before she wakes up. She’ll never have to know I did this, and I can pretend I was never this stupid.
I’ll leave . . . before she . . .
Sleep took him over.