The Bachelor Pact

Through the women he’d known, he’d learned that men didn’t make it their priority to pleasure a woman. Which was criminal. When gifted with a beauty like the one standing before him, how could Reid not take his time exploring every inch of that body to learn what turned her on? What made her moan or giggle? What made her gasp in surprise or go to the brink of where only he’d be able to take her...

Best not to rush if that was his goal.

He grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck and took it from the ice bucket. His date’s smile slipped as her eyes went to his hands working the cork. Worry puckered her brow.

“Did you...change your mind?” she asked, and bless her breasts, she actually sounded serious.

A rough chuckle escaped him as he popped the cork from the bottle. “Definitely not. I’m attempting to be a gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman? What if I prefer hurried over slow?” She glided across the room like a petite runway model, skimming the couch with her fingertips, her shoulders back, those inviting breasts jiggling as she walked.

“Why? Have you somewhere else to be?” He filled the two flutes and nestled the champagne into the ice before lifting a silver dome to reveal rows of ripe red strawberries and a bowl of melted dark chocolate.

Her pink tongue touched the corner of her lips.

“A gentleman wouldn’t rush to undress you right away. A gentleman—” he dunked one berry into the chocolate “—would sample the chocolate off your nipples while feeding you a strawberry.”

She sucked in an anticipatory breath. He had her full attention.

“A gentleman—” he carried one of the flutes over to her “—would sip this from your belly button before kissing you where it matters most. Ever had an effervescent orgasm, Christina?”

The heat in her eyes banked. “I prefer love.”

A request he’d heard before. Some American women liked that term, he assumed because of his accent. He wasn’t below fulfilling their fantasies.

He approached with the strawberry, chocolate delicately balanced on the tip. He lowered it to her mouth while saying, “Ever had an effervescent orgasm, love?”

She took a bite of the chocolate-covered berry, her eyelids, coated in a shimmery gold shadow, sinking shut. She moaned, a soft “mmm” that turned him on far more than it ought to. With this woman it seemed the anticipation of what came next was as exciting as the act.

Fantastic.

He polished off the rest of the berry, tossed the stem aside and kissed her. She tasted of chocolate and sweet red fruit. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes begging for what he’d promised.

“You’ve been with the wrong men, love.”

“Tell me about it.”

He offered her the champagne, and she took a sip, licking her full, inviting lips, and his erection grew harder.

“We only have tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to rush,” he told her. “In fact, since we have so little time together it makes sense to savor it.”

He thought of this as “the talk.” He didn’t want to spoil the evening with overexplaining, but he wouldn’t go forward before setting the expectation. Where Reid was concerned, there was no possibility for a relationship. He had no desire to go down that road.

“Believe me, Reid,” she said on a throaty laugh. “I didn’t expect things to get this far.” She touched the dip in his chin and wiggled her finger. “Tonight will have to be enough for both of us.”

A ribbon of unease curled in his chest. Already he wanted more than tonight, and he hadn’t even had her yet.

“Unless we change our minds,” he heard himself say.

“Why would we do that?” She narrowed one eye, her mouth a tempting purse.

“Are you staying for the entire conference?”

“I am.”

“What if you find yourself bored while you’re here and crave my company?” He threw in a shrug like he wasn’t anticipating her answer.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” With that noncommittal response, she put her palm on his chest and shoved him toward the couch. He was content to let her do as she pleased.

A side table lamp and the bathroom light glowed, but other than that the suite was dark. Even in shadow, Christina was inviting.

Despite the added height of her shoes, she had to stretch to kiss him. He held the flute out of reach and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her soft, supple curves against him and erasing every bit of his memory. He’d promised to do...something. With the berries, or was it the champagne...? She’d entranced him.

“We aren’t rushing.” That much he’d remembered.

“No. We’re not.” She stole the flute, drained the remainder of the champagne and set it aside. Then she pushed him onto the couch. “But we’re not delaying, either.”

She clicked off the lamp and straddled him, her breasts between them. He cupped his hands over her bra, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until the hard nubs beaded beneath the fabric.

She gasped one word. “Yes.”

“Does it hurt good, love?”

“So good,” she agreed.

He unclasped the bra, freeing those bountiful orbs to the trusted homes of his palms. He took one nipple on his tongue and sucked hard, and she cried out—a sharp, high shout of pleasure.

When she wiggled her ass on his lap, his hips arched to find her—his cock eager to reach her warm, wet heat, his promises not to rush be damned.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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