I felt like an angelic perpetrator with the way I kept my hands interlaced in front of me as I stood awkwardly trying to follow his lead.
Azmir walked over to the bar. “Noir?”
“One of my favorites.” I nodded in accord.
“…this and Riesling,” he said as he removed the cork from the bottle and poured me a glass.
He knows my favorite wines? “Good observation.” I was beyond impressed. He poured cognac into a tumbler for himself and walked over to hand me my glass.
“Let’s have a seat,” he gestured with his arm to the couch. We sat and sipped.
“This is good cognac,” he blew through his teeth.
“Not better than this Pinot.”
“Is that right?” His eyes were filled with wonder. I nodded. “That’s the best bottle in the cellar, so I’ve been told.”
“All for you? I’m impressed, Mr. Jacobs.”
“Actually, I ordered it for you.” Currents zapped through my body at the point where he enunciated for you.
This man!
With batted eyes and a concealed smile I murmured, “Thank you, Azmir.”
There was a knock at the door and before I knew it, the concierge was wheeling our dinner in.
“In the dining room please, Oscar,” Azmir requested before turning back to me and saying, “Bon appetite,” with a very curvy tongue. He grabbed my hand and led me to dine with him.
We returned to the living room after a scrumptious dinner. I couldn’t fit dessert in. I was too full and slightly inebriated from drinking on an empty stomach before my meal. Although I wasn’t drunk, I stumbled a little into the living room.
“You okay?” Azmir wore a slight smile, at my expense of course.
“Err…I’m fine. Just overly comfortable.” Which was mostly true.
“It’s after eight at night and you’re still wearing those heels. Come sit,” he ordered taking my hands and guiding me over to the sofa.
I sat down and Azmir squatted before me to remove my shoes. When he slipped off the first one, I noticed how he looked inside.
“Madden,” he mumbled, much to himself referring to the brand of shoes I was wearing.
“Do you have a problem with Steve?” I feigned offended.
“No. Not at all. It’s just that if you were mine…” He shook his head at his pending thoughts. “Have you made Michelle aware of your abbreviated trip this evening?” He changed the subject as he swung my legs over toward the other side of the sofa and sat beneath them. His touch, even through my pantyhose, had scorched the blood racing through my veins.
“Y-yeah. I’ve alerted her of my arrival.” My breath caught as he lifted my left foot and began to massage it firmly between his large and capable hands, paying attention to every inch of it, and singling out every toe. He tried to maintain a conversation about my day and then my flight but I was in and out of consciousness, trying not to moan.
“You okay, Brimm?” his forehead wrinkled and he tried to hide his knowing smirk.
I didn’t know how to say that if he continued I may have had an orgasm right there on the couch.
“I’ve never had my feet rubbed before.”
Shit! As the words left my lips, I rolled my eyes and giggled in embarrassment.
His face twisted in disbelief. “This can’t be true. A sexy woman of your stature has never had a guy drop to his knees and massage your beautiful toes?”
I shook my head and tried to muzzle my giggles.
“I’d like to taste them.” His tone was sharp and his captivating gaze told me his message was direct. That was unexpected.
“They’re not fresh, Azmir,” I tried to ward him off.
“Then let’s take a bath. We can both freshen up.” His words were spoken in great confidence and caused a quickening in my lower region.
“It’s getting late. You said you’d have me back home at a decent hour,” I recalled our conversation as I tried to play the disinterested role.
He gave a brief chortle and soke emphatically, “No, Ms. Brimm, I said I’d have you to work tomorrow at your appointed time.”