She shouldn’t be flattered. After all, he could sit in his Rolls and use his laptop or his cell phone, but the thought of the workaholic Nathan Trainor waiting for her was as heady an aphrodisiac as any oysters.
She’d been debating all day whether she had the nerve to do it, but this made her decision. She put her cell phone in her big handbag and went into one of the stalls. She’d worn thigh-high stockings for the occasion, and now she hiked up her skirt and tugged her panties down so she could step out of them. Balling up the white lace, she tucked them in her purse before exiting the bathroom.
As she walked down the corridor, she had the sense that everyone she passed could tell she had no underwear on. It was ridiculous, because her hem stopped a very proper quarter inch above her knees. Yet she felt exposed and turned on at the same time.
Stepping into the elevator with four other people, she flashed back to vivid images of making love at Nathan’s apartment in the same kind of enclosed space. She could feel the heat building low in her body. As the door opened on the ground floor, she took a firm grip on the strap of her handbag and stepped out into the lobby as though she wasn’t about to go up in flames.
Her composure cracked when she turned and saw the Rolls parked directly in front of the glass doors. Nathan wasn’t working on his laptop or making calls on his cell phone. He was leaning against the big car dressed in one of his perfectly tailored dark suits, his arms folded across his chest, his long legs crossed at the ankles, as he scanned the stream of people leaving the building.
She stopped as a shiver of nerves slithered up her spine. Whatever was going on between them was intensifying faster than she was prepared for.
Shifting her bag to her other shoulder, she started forward again, knowing she was walking toward something no longer under her control.
The autumn wind sent a chill through her as she stepped out of the revolving door. Nathan straightened away from the car and met her in the middle of the sidewalk, sliding his hand under her blazer to the small of her back. He bent his head to murmur beside her ear, “To avoid shocking innocent bystanders, I’m not going to touch you any more than this until we’re in the car.”
“You have more self-control than I do.” She thought she might come just from the heat of his palm radiating through the thin fabric of her blouse. His breath rasped noticeably, and she felt a smug smile curl her lips.
He marched her to the Rolls, swinging open the door and offering his hand to her. She appreciated the steely support of his arm as she climbed into the dark interior, always conscious that an awkward position could reveal more to the public than she wanted to share. Sliding across the seams of the leather seat pushed her arousal up another notch.
Nathan settled on the seat beside her, his weight tilting her against his side as he pulled the car door closed. With a heavy, expensive thunk, they were shut away from the cold wind, the blare of horns, and the seething crowd. The opaque privacy screen between them and the driver was already raised—enclosing them in a warm, intimate cocoon of burnished leather, plush carpeting, and windows tinted nearly black.
“Chloe,” Nathan said as the car began to move, and then his hands were in her hair and he was tilting her mouth to his, devouring her as though she were a gourmet feast and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He kissed her jaw, her temples, her eyebrows, her throat, and her eyelids.
She slid her hands under his suit jacket so she could feel the power of his muscles and the pulse of his heart against her palms. Then his hands were on her waist and he lifted her onto his lap, facing him. Her straight skirt rode halfway up her thighs as she straddled him, her knees resting on the seat. She didn’t dare sit down because she was so wet he might feel it through the expensive fabric of his trousers.
He raised no objections to her position as he shoved her blazer down and off before his fingers went to the buttons of her blouse. She reached beneath his arms to work his tie loose from its neat knot and rip it out of his shirt collar with a hiss of silk on cotton. He slid his fingers under her bra straps, the first touch of his skin against her bare shoulders making her suck in her breath with a hiss. Then he yanked the straps down along with her blouse so her breasts were bared. Suddenly, she was aware of the people walking just a few feet from the car. Even through the darkened glass, she could see their indistinct faces.
She started to bring her arms up to cover herself, but his hands were already at her breasts, massaging them and pressing against her peaked nipples.
“They can’t see in.” He’d noticed her moment of self-consciousness. “From outside, the windows are a solid black.” He pinched one nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger, sending a streak of electric pleasure directly to the yearning spot between her legs.