Reckless Encounter Page 2

  He fiddled with the dials until the sounds of Boccherini's Minuet overcame the static.

  “Is this okay?” He turned to her with a questioning look. His voice sounded placid, detached. As if they were two commuters making small talk on a platform at a railroad station while waiting for the morning train to arrive.

  Elena flinched. Damn the man and his self-control. Or, was he already bored with her? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her. What was she doing? Why had the urge to tempt a total stranger with her sexual allure suddenly seized her? She reached for her drink again, found the glass empty. She set it back on the table, her hands so unsteady that the base made a hard clunk against the glossy mahogany tabletop.

  Perhaps the next piece of music would be something less upbeat. The last thing she wanted to do was to perform a clumsy striptease.

  For the next few minutes, Elena swayed gently on her feet, eyes closed. As she caught the mood of the baroque music, her feet began to move. Her hands rose, one at a time, to brush across her front. Down past her breasts, up the side of her body and over her shoulders, descending once more in a skimming motion along the length of her arms. She repeated the sequence time and time again, each side in turn.

  The music changed to a slower tune. She started to stroke herself with both hands. Her fingers drifted down her body, to her waist, and below, tracing the flare of her hips. The awkwardness receded as she overcame her hesitation.

  Facing the bed, Elena started to take off her clothes.

  Slowly. One by one. Just like the stranger had ordered.

  The green jacket went first. When she slipped off the fine wool garment and threw it on the coffee table, the gilt buttons rattled against the shiny surface, one of them chiming like a bell when it hit the empty glass.

  The skirt came next. The fabric chafed against her fingers, and she struggled with the zipper. She let the skirt fall to her feet, then kicked the garment to one side and bent down to slide off her pantyhose, gracefully balancing on one foot at a time.

  The cream silk blouse. Button by button along the front.

  With each piece of clothing, Elena paused to caress the exposed skin before moving on. By now, she’d found enough courage to lift her gaze and look straight at Maxwell Glaser. He lounged on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching her with a guarded expression in his dark eyes. Every now and then, he picked up his drink from the nightstand and took a sip.

  Finally, she stood naked in front of him, wearing nothing but her high-heeled shoes.

  “Leave them on,” he said, and rose from the bed. The towel dropped to the floor, revealing a thick erection that jutted out from a patch of dark curls. He reached over to the nightstand, slid open a drawer, and pulled out a long, narrow scarf. The rigid shaft at his groin swayed with the motion as he strode over to her, kneading the white strip of silk between his fingers.

  “Cross your hands.” His voice sounded hoarse. He caught her wrists in front of her body and tied them together with the scarf.

  Elena found herself unable to resist the blunt command. Anticipation drummed in her heartbeat, although somewhere in the back of her mind a dull fear stirred to life. This was where she would be punished for her madness. The man would not be willing to pay five thousand dollars for nothing. There might be extreme things he wanted from her, things most women wouldn’t want to do—painful and degrading acts that might leave her mind and perhaps even body scarred for the rest of her life.

  And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stop. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, and her body trembled with the force of the fiery need that rioted within her. She had to find out what the man would do next, whatever the cost might be.

  He swept her arms up and guided her across the room, until her back collided with the entrance door. He tied the scarf to the metal spring at the top of the door. She was left facing him, her hands high above her head, her body completely exposed. He stepped back and surveyed her, as if she was a work of art he had created.

  Her heart hammered in the confines of her ribs. Between her legs, she could feel the heat, the moisture, the dull throbbing of her arousal. Inside her, the storm of excitement gathered and raged, like a fist clenching and unclenching deep in her abdomen.

  A short step away from her, the man stood watching her—silent, unmoving, like the calm that precedes a storm. She surveyed the heavy contours of his chest and shoulders, the roped muscles on his arms, the solid legs that seemed as hard as steel.

  Such brutal power.

  Her eyes strayed lower. A gasp tore from her throat as she saw the full measure of the erection that rose from his groin. Until that moment, she hadn’t fully comprehended the size and strength of him. Her gaze shot up to his face. A dark flush tinged his skin. His throat rippled with a hard swallow. The guarded, nearly black eyes glittered with desire.

  The physical evidence of his lust sent a shudder along her body, a slow ripple of apprehension and alarm. The man must have noticed it, for a notch of concern appeared between his dark brows.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured in his deep baritone. “I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t get my sexual kicks from causing pain to women.” A faint smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

  He left her to walk back to the nightstand. After taking care of protection, he crossed the room back to her. With an easy, graceful step, he closed the final distance that separated them and started touching her body. His fingertips drifted over her throat, pausing for a second at the pulse point between her collarbones.

  “Relax,” he told her, and skimmed the back of his fingers down her cheek. Elena couldn’t stifle a moan of pleasure when the calloused pad of his thumb traced along the curve of her bottom lip.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear your pleasure.”

  His hands drifted downward, to her breasts, and brushed over the nipples, eliciting a shudder from her. He glanced up to her face and nodded his approval at her reaction. The pressure of his touch grew. He cupped her breasts in his palms, cradling their weight, gently squeezing, exploring her shape.

  Moving away from her breasts, he continued downward, stroking the dip of her waist, past the tilt of her hips. Not breaking the caressing motion of his hands on her skin, he bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth. Catching the tip between his teeth, he tugged, increasing the friction until she cried out.

  Dear Lord, it felt so good. She arched her back and closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation, but a second later her lashes lifted again and her gaze fell on the dark head bent at her breast, giving her pleasure. It seemed important to fill her awareness with the knowledge that it was him, the stranger. Not Steven. Not anyone else.

  The man moved downward again, trailing his fingers along the inside of her thigh. By now, the tension had rendered her body into such a state of fevered anticipation that she could barely stand up. When he nudged her legs apart, her shallow breathing grew into a whimper.

  Gently, he explored her intimate folds, parting them. He slipped one fingertip inside her, barely entering, merely a hint of a penetration that electrified every nerve and made her ache for a bolder invasion.

  “Please,” she said.

  “Not yet,” he told her.

  His dark head lowered. Using his other hand, he found her sensitive bud and closed his mouth over the pulsing bead. Searing waves of heat engulfed her. The tip of his tongue flicked over her nerves, sending liquid fire through her. His other hand continued the teasing at her entrance, never venturing further inside.

  She wanted more. Angry words rose in her throat, hoarse demands that he encouraged with hushed whispers. Her wrists ached from the pressure of the restraining scarf as she tried to inch down, tried to take in more of the maddeningly elusive finger that tormented her with promises of a greater satisfaction.

  The man gave her no respite from his feathery touch, retreating when she tried to press closer, following when fru
stration made her rise on her toes in an attempt to pull away and end the frenzied longing. Each time that she slipped away, he caught her, with his hands clasped firmly around her hips, and resumed the sweet torture of his mouth on her.

  It seemed to go on forever, until her whole body tightened like a spring and she exploded into a shuddering release. Elena hardly realized that the man had sprinted up and pressed his hand over her mouth to stifle her frantic cries. In the next instant, she felt him grab hold of her body and spin her around to face the door. His knee pushed between her legs to force them wider apart. He entered her from behind, one hand pressed over her mouth, his other arm wrapped tight across her waist. His hard length drove into her in one smooth surge that made her clench around him in an urgent response.

  He paused for a second. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a frantic nod and tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder. He began a steady rhythm of advance and recoil. With each invasion, he buried himself deep inside her before sliding out again, only to repeat the motion. The force of his thrusts lifted her to her toes and a few inches into the air, but the arm around her waist kept her anchored against his broad chest.

  If the man took his hand from her mouth, Elena knew she wouldn’t be able to control her screams. Ecstasy rolled over her in powerful waves as another release racked her body. Every nerve, every fiber in her body thrummed with the overwhelming sensations. She felt as though she’d been struck by lightning, the inferno inside her roaring to consume every part of her until she’d been burned to nothing but a heap of cinders.

  Eventually the man shuddered and let out a muffled cry. When his body had ceased heaving, he stood motionless behind her, his right arm around her, holding her close against him. After a few moments, his left hand lifted from her mouth.

  Elena inhaled a sharp breath but couldn’t find her voice.

  “Are you okay?” the man asked, his words a hoarse murmur.

  She nodded, unable to speak. Slowly, he withdrew from her. His taut muscles pressed against her back as he reached up to untie the scarf that imprisoned her hands. Once free, Elena collapsed against the door, her palms resting against the cool panel. She steadied herself, gulping in deep breaths, the air filled by the salty scent of their frenzied coupling.

  Turning around, she staggered past the man and into the bathroom.

  She had no idea what to do now, what to say, how to behave. Given the choice, she would have hidden in the bathroom and never come out again. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, like the ghostly spirit of a guilty conscience. Her hair hung in a sensuous tangle around her flushed face. In her eyes, the hazel iris had reduced to a thin rim around the dilated black center, bearing evidence to the depth of her sexual arousal.

  Whatever the consequences of her actions, she’d willingly pay the price. For a while, the world outside the hotel room had ceased to matter, even to exist. She’d behaved without any moral restraint, her usual reserve shattered. Even now, the memory of the erotic pleasure the man had wrung from her body shimmered like an aura around her, the echo of those incredible sensations still threading through her nerve endings.

  Beyond the physical, her mind felt numb, her thoughts too scattered to formulate a plan for how to extricate herself from the situation, how to get dressed and make an exit.

  Elena ran cold water over her wrists until the fevered heat in her body had cooled a fraction. Feeling a little more composed, she forced herself to return into the room. She found the man lounging on the bed, in the same half-sitting position he’d been while he watched her undress. His narrowed eyes followed her hesitant steps as she traversed the room and crouched down to collect her discarded clothing from the floor.

  The first coherent thoughts formed in her brain. She would get dressed in the privacy of the bathroom. Perhaps she would even take a quick shower before she left, so that people wouldn’t notice anything unusual in her appearance if she was spotted on her way out through the lobby.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked sharply.

  “I’m just getting my clothes.” She reached for the skirt draped over the coffee table and averted her gaze, too shaken by the intimacy they had shared to look at him. “I’d like to have a quick shower before I go,” she added, “if that’s all right with you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” His tone was blunt. “You can hang up your things if you want to, but then you’ll get into this bed with me. We’re far from done here.”

  Her breath stalled. She looked up from her task and saw the man watching her with the glint of a hungry predator in his stormy eyes. Like a snare, the attraction that radiated from him closed around her.

  The heat that had subsided inside her surged once more. The trace of shame that had troubled her in the bathroom dissipated, like the morning mist evaporates in the sun. The garments she’d been gathering from the floor tumbled from her trembling hands as she straightened on her feet and obeyed his command of joining him on the bed.

  Always in the past, Elena had been timid in her lovemaking. She had simply settled on her back and allowed the man to take charge, hoping that he would have enough skill and last long enough to bring her to climax. Afterward, she preferred for the man to go, leaving her in the solitude that she cherished and found so hard to share with anyone. Even when she was planning to marry Steven, she’d been reluctant to let him stay until morning.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked as she climbed up beside the man, stalking toward him on her hands and knees, like a languid cat.

  “I want you to share with me the passion I can see in your eyes.”

  Lifting one hand, Elena pressed her fingertips to his chest, her pink-tipped nails poised like claws against his skin.

  He nodded once.

  She raked her hand down the ridged muscles, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to leave a pattern of red welts that took a moment to fade. As she felt the man’s big body shudder, a sense of power filled her. She smiled at him, a smile of victory over the moral restraints that had always made her a cool, indifferent participant in the sexual act.

  The man reached over to curl his hands around her upper arms. With a slow, steady pressure, he pulled her closer to him, until their faces were only an inch apart. When she didn’t shrink away, he brought his mouth to hers in a single hard kiss, as if to seal the promise she had made not to hold back, to let her passion rise as high as it could go.

  Her eyelids came down, closing out the room. The whole world shrank to that bed, to him, to her, and how he had battered down the shields of modesty and caution she had hidden behind her entire life. Elena cupped her hands around his face and returned the kiss, plunging deep with her tongue, taking on the role of the aggressor.

  When the kiss broke, as suddenly as it had started, Elena pulled back and stared into the man’s glittering eyes. Something inside her shifted, like a physical pain that she recognized as the shattering of the walls she had maintained around her heart, around her inner sanctum of privacy as long as she could remember. Deep down, she knew that this one night would alter her life, but she pushed away her concern over what it might mean.

  “Lie back,” she ordered the man, and pushed at his chest with the flat of her palms to emphasize the command.

  When he obeyed, she scooted downward on the bed and started a slow, thorough exploration of his body. She wanted to touch every inch of him, discover his every reaction as she sought to bring him pleasure. She watched the man’s eyes flutter shut as he leaned against the pillows. Her hands roamed over his ridged chest, the heavy curve of his shoulders, the thick muscles that corded his arms. Feeling the warmth of his skin and the power coiled beneath, she reveled in the strength that she now witnessed in surrender before her.

  Bending her head, she licked one dark, flat nipple, breathing in the mingled scents of soap and musky male. A tremor ran through the powerful body of the man stretched out beneath her. Her lips curved into a triumphant s
mile at the reaction she’d drawn from him.

  The man opened his eyes. His hands curled around her waist, and Elena knew that he planned to roll her over onto her back and pin her beneath him.

  “No,” she said. “I’m in charge now.”

  His gaze held hers, measuring, a little hesitant. Then he nodded.

  She inched down along his muscular frame, until she straddled his hips. Rising up above his thick erection, she lowered herself over him, slowly taking him inside. He filled her, but this time the thrill was different. A sense of liberation shimmered like an aura around her. For the first time in her life, Elena embraced the burning spark of sexuality inside her that she had been brought up to suppress, to think of with fear and shame.

  As she found her rhythm over him and felt her tension gather, she didn’t close her eyes. Instead, she watched the stranger with dark hair and craggy features. On his face, a fierce frown of concentration battled with the signs of pleasure. When her body finally crested above him, the man leaned back against the bed, waiting until the last of her tremors had subsided, and only then did he thrust his hips upward and bury himself deeper inside her to find his own release.

  Elation soared inside Elena as she studied his stern features.

  For in his eyes she saw the same sense of wonder that filled her.

  ****

  When Elena awoke a few hours later, she lay in bed beside Maxwell Glaser, who was asleep, sprawled on his back. Her head rested on his shoulder. A muscular arm around her waist anchored her close to him. She rose up on one elbow to study his face. Even in slumber, his features appeared hard and unyielding.

  A blush warmed her skin as she recalled the incredible stamina he possessed. Before they went to sleep, he had made love to her again, hard and fast, as if he needed to reassert his masculine dominance after she had dictated the pace earlier, making him buck and cry out beneath her.