Barbara Dunlop - An After-Hours Affair

The dress had fallen off one shoulder, and her messy strawberry blond hair framed her face in the fragile light.

“It’s better than the fantasy,” he whispered. “You’re better than the fantasy.” He traced his thumbs along the inside of her thighs. Her dress whispered out of the way, and his thumbs met in the middle, sliding slick while her eyes fluttered closed and her head tipped back.

The strap of the dress slipped farther down her arm, the fabric sliding over one breast, revealing her pert pink nipple.

“Much better,” he rasped, drawing her down to take the nipple into his mouth.

He was rewarded with her gasp. She rocked forward, bracing herself with her hands in his hair, kneading his scalp while her thighs twitched under his hands.

The dress fell to her waist, and her writhing movements brought him close to the edge of control. He swiftly unfastened his pants, shoving them out of the way after retrieving a condom from his pocket.

He shifted to move on top, but she pinned down his shoulders, thighs bracing his.

“Remember,” she whispered, bending to kiss him, her breasts brushing the bare skin of his chest. “You told me how this goes when you described your fantasy.”

She sat up straight, trapping his gaze with her own, lowering herself onto him, smooth and slow, until his hips bucked to meet her. His hands twisted in the quilt in a desperate attempt to keep hold of control. But there was no turning back. She was too sexy, too sweet, too passionately perfect.

He grasped her hips, holding her firm, matching her movements, and nearly dislodging them from the bed with the force of his thrusts.

She leaned forward to kiss him, and he flipped them both over, adjusting his angle and covering her with kisses, while she curled herself around him.

His brain roared for release, but he held on to paradise just as long as he could. When her cries found his ears, and her body arched high, he let the world melt around them in waves.

She was heat and sweat and scent in his arms. Her breathing was raspy, and her heart pounded hard against his own.

He smoothed back her hair, kissing her temple, then her cheek, then her hot, moist lips. He smoothed her hair again, pulling back to gaze at her exquisite face. Her eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, lips abraded in a way that made him twinge with guilt.

He wanted to say something. There had to be the perfect words for this perfect moment. But he couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound trite.

He settled on, “You’re beautiful,” and kissed her again.

She blinked open her eyes, her voice sleepy. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t help but smile. “I was really hoping for ‘not so bad.’”

She cocked her head, and her smile turned impish. “Do you need me to tell you you’re the best I ever had?”

“Only if it’s true.”

“You’re the best I ever had.”

He searched her expression, hoping against hope that it wasn’t a joke. He’d rather be the only one she’d ever had. But he knew that was ridiculous.

“I lost my virginity in college.”

“So did everybody else.”

“It really wasn’t that great.”

“It never is.”

She smirked. “My point is, you didn’t have much competition.”

He paused, her words filling him with some unnamed emotion. “Just the one guy in college?”

She nodded.

“And it wasn’t very good?” He felt a smile of pride grow on his face.

“It was terrible. Quit laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He hugged her close, savoring the feel of her naked body, the curl of her limbs, the softness of her breasts. “You’re a treasure.”

“Can you put that on my next performance evaluation?”

“Absolutely. You want me to include the rationale?”

She playfully smacked him on the arm. “I want you to approve a raise.”

“You need money?” He found himself ready to step in if she did.

“I’ve developed expensive taste in clothes. And you just ruined a three thousand dollar dress.”

He reached to where the dress was bunched at her waist and ran the filmy fabric through his fingers. “It was so worth it.”

Jenny awoke cocooned in Mitch’s arms. Sunlight was streaming through the big bedroom window, the split beam catching on the rumple of her dress discarded on an armchair beside them. A cool breeze wafted lazily down from the ceiling fan.

Mitch’s body was warm where he curled around her back, one arm draped across her stomach. She shifted experimentally, stretching sore muscles.

He nuzzled her neck with a whisker-roughened face, kissing his way to the tip of her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked gently, voice morning-husky.

She shifted onto her back, taking in his sleep-crinkled eyes and beard-shadowed chin. “I’m fine.” She gently touched his bare chest, concern growing as she recalled the terrible news he’d received yesterday. “You?”

“Fine,” he responded, dipping to kiss her gently on the lips.

“You know what I mean,” she pressed.

He slipped an arm beneath the small of her back, drawing her naked body against his own, kissing her again. “I think I’m in denial. Or maybe you’re just too distracting for me to dwell on anything else.” He pressed himself meaningfully against her.

“Again?” She quirked a brow, shifting one more time to test the extent of her soreness.

“Always,” he muttered, his hand closing over her breast.

Her nipple instantly peaked, and desire flooded her system. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t that sore.

Surprisingly, he drew back. “But you’re not ready.”

“I could-”

He put a finger across her lips, trailing it downward. “You’ve been out of practice since college.”

“I was never in practice in college.”

His grin looked decidedly possessive. “Hungry?”

She nodded, touched by his tender consideration. “Famished. And I’d kill for some coffee.”

“Regular? Latte?”

“Whatever you’ve got.”

He reached for the bedside phone. “What I’ve got is room service. Name your pleasure.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he scolded. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“Croissants, strawberries and regular coffee.”

“You never used to play with fire,” he mumbled.

“You never used to look so sexy.”

He punched a button on the phone. “Tell me what’s different, and I’ll do it all the time.”

“You’re going to stay sleep-rumpled, unshaven and naked?”

“Yes,” he said, staring straight at her, even though he spoke into the phone. “We’d like some croissants, some fresh strawberries and a pot of coffee.”

She scooted close and whispered in his ear. “That’s impractical.”

His arm closed around her, and he shifted the mouthpiece to beneath his chin. “It’s okay. I think they’re in season.” Then he spoke into the phone again. “Thank you.” And he hung it up, turning back to her, grinning. “Or did you mean the naked part?”

“I meant the naked part.”

“You like me naked?” he confirmed.

Jenny made a show of pulling up the sheet to peep underneath, gazing unabashedly at his sleekly muscled, magnificent body. Oh, yes. She liked him naked.

“That’s it.” He shifted abruptly to the edge of the bed. “I’m outta here.”

She felt a jolt of unease, and pushed up on an elbow. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He slid his legs into last night’s pants. “You’re doing everything absolutely right. And if I don’t leave now, I’ll be all over you again.”

She felt a satisfied smile grow on her face, and she let her head fall back on the pillow.

He hesitated for a split second. “You’re a dangerous woman, Jenny Watson.”

“Nobody’s ever called me dangerous before.”

“That’s because they didn’t see you in that dress.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh. “And I guess they never will, since you tore it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“That’s silly.”

“I loved you in that dress.”

“You loved me out of it more,” she singsonged.

He pointed through the doorway to the living room. “I’m getting the room service now, and then I’ll meet you on the deck for breakfast.”

Breakfast. With Mitch. After a long night of…

An unsettling thought raced into her mind, and she sat upright. She hadn’t meant to ditch Jeffrey, but that had been the upshot of her behavior. “Do you think Jeffrey’s mad at me?” she called out.

Mitch paused in the doorway. “I think Jeffrey’s laughing at me.”

“I don’t understand.”

He turned. “He all but dared me…in fact, he did dare me to dance with you.”

She still didn’t understand.

“He’s not mad,” said Mitch. “Trust me on that.”

There was a knock on the suite’s outer door.

“Meet me on the balcony?” Mitch repeated.

Jenny nodded, swallowing her worry. Mitch and Jeffrey were very good friends. She had to trust that Mitch knew what he was talking about.

She stayed in bed until the voices disappeared and the suite door whooshed shut. A few seconds later, she heard the balcony door slide open.

She made a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, then she glanced around the bedroom for something to wear. Her crumpled, stale dress seemed to be the only option. But then Mitch’s tux jacket caught her eye.

She padded into the living room, slipping it on. It smelled like him, and she inhaled deeply. Then, on impulse, she looped his bow tie around her neck.

She folded the wide garment closed around her body and headed out to join him on the balcony.

When she stepped outside, he scanned her body and grinned. “You do know there are robes in the closet.”

“I’m happy with this.” She helped herself to a steaming cup of coffee, crossing to a padded wicker chair opposite.