Sinful Desire

“I would absolutely not be a gentleman at all,” he said, letting his hand travel along her back. “But for the moment, you have your donors here to entertain.”

She raised her chin and looked at him studiously. “You did your homework, Mister—” Then she laughed and cut herself off, placing a finger over his lips. “Don’t tell me your name. I prefer to think of you as the Man with the Green Tie. So we can pretend we hardly know each other. We can be strangers.”

“Strangers can make the best lovers.”

“Are you? A good lover?”

“I don’t really think you want me to answer that question.”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I want the answer to that?” she asked, toying with his tie, her voice a purr that lit up his organs, setting every last part of him on fire.

He shook his head. Pressed his lips near her ear. Whispered. “I think you’d rather I show you.”

She gasped, an enticing sound that ignited him. His body was strung tight, like a snare drum. He was torn between wanting to pounce on her now, and drawing out the anticipation. Making her want him. Making her beg. He was willing to bet she was a marvelous beggar, that she could get on her knees and say please in a voice that snapped all his restraint.

“Show me,” she whispered, then her eyes floated closed as he touched her, fingertips brushing her back. They traveled higher, and she arched into his hand, like a cat being pet. He reached her hair, winding a loose, blonde strand around his index finger, cataloguing the expression on her face, the way her features were so soft, so open—her lips parted, her eyes closed, her breath gentle.

He let her long curls fall through his fingers as she molded to him.

Then he showed her what else he liked. That he wasn’t soft. That he wasn’t gentle. With his fingers gripping her hair, he tugged.

Hard.

Her eyes snapped open, and they blazed at him. “That wasn’t gentlemanly.”

“I know,” he said, her hair still twisted in his fist. “And you liked it. Now, have you got any more questions about how I am in bed?”

She gulped. A touch of nervousness seemed to flicker across her eyes. “Not at the moment.” She blinked and seemed to rearrange her features as he let go of her hair, smoothing it out as it fell along her neck. “So tell me, Mr. Green Tie, what did you learn about me when you went hunting for information?”

He learned she shared DNA with the lead detective re-investigating his father’s murder. But that wasn’t exactly information that needed to be served up for small talk. “I learned you know everyone here, and can convince anyone to contribute to a worthy cause. Lots of money. Insane amounts.”

She pursed her lips together. “That does sound like one of my skills,” she said playfully.

“I learned you do it because you can. Because you made your mint already and now you give back.”

“True, true. Does that bother you?”

“That you made a mint?”

She nodded. “Yes. That can intimidate some men. When a woman is successful.”

He scoffed. “I’m not easily intimidated. And I happen to think successful women are”—he moved in closer, his lips daringly close to hers—“incredibly hot.” He skimmed his hand from her shoulder down her arm, unable to resist touching her. “But that’s what I learned from your bio, Sophie. I know other things about you, just from these last ten minutes.”

“What do you know?” she asked as the singer began a new tune, and the purple lights swooshed across the dance floor.

He ran a fingertip along her wrist, her chest rising as she drew in a quick breath. “That you like being touched.”

She nodded. “If a man knows how.”

“That you like to play games.”

She frowned. “You make that sound bad.”

“Games aren’t bad.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I bet you like to play pretend. Make believe. Role-play.”

“I have an idea,” she said in a purr, as she roped her hands around his neck then trailed her fingertips across the back of it, her touch a jolt of pleasure. “We could pretend, say, that we just met, and I’m curious about the man who has been in my thoughts. All I want is a little something. A little bit of intel to round out the picture. How about this for a simple question? Since you know what occupied my time in college, why don’t you tell me what occupied yours?”

This was easy. He could tell her his college major without giving up too much. “History.”

“Why history?”

“I like to understand what motivates people. Why they do what they do.”

“And did you learn what motivates people?”

“Usually it’s a desire for property or money.”

She smiled ruefully. “Sounds about right. What about sports? Did you play sports?”

“Yes. Hockey. Right wing.”

“Did you cause fights?” she asked, curiosity dripping from her voice.

He shook his head, his lips in a smirk, proud to be able to say no. “I was the one who stopped the fights.”

Her eyes widened. “Interesting. Why is that?”

“I like to be in control.”

She inched her hands up toward his hair, and he grasped her wrists and returned them to his shoulders. “What line of business are you in?” she asked.