On the Rocks

Love Lies Beneath - Preview Excerpt, Chapter Three

Ben's company, at least, booked one of the nicest rooms this particular Marriott has to offer-a smallish suite with a very nice view. Outside the big window, the night-engulfed city has blossomed with lights. An anonymous couple of them belong to my house. My home. One I'd never invite a stranger into.

As unfamiliar men go, Ben seems decent enough. I watch him hang his jacket in the closet, appreciating the care he takes, both with his clothing and with what I can see of his body beneath the loose cling of his shirt. Broad shoulders taper to a trim waist and solid hips. He works out, but not obsessively.

He goes over to the minibar. "Nightcap?"
"No, thanks. I don't want to get sloppy on you."
He laughs warmly. "I thought that was the whole point. Mind if

I have one?"
"Be my guest. Just don't forget about my requisite ratio." I slip out of my own silk jacket and lay it gently over the too-prominent office chair. "I'll be right back, okay?"

I take my purse into the bathroom with me, not because I'm worried about Ben inspecting its contents, but because it contains an emergency hygiene kit. Most of it I don't need tonight, but I prefer my breath not carry a hint of salami, so I spend a couple of quality minutes with a toothbrush and mouthwash. Then I free my hair from the confines of the chignon I was wearing, releasing gardenia perfume to fight the masculine scent of Ben's own cologne, hanging heavily in the too-small lavatory.

Lavatory. Good word. Comes right after "laboratory" in the dictionary, and let's face it, most lavatories would make interesting lab- oratories, at least if you could stomach such experiments.

By the time I've finished, Ben has made himself quite comfort- able on the sofa, shoeless and shirtless but for a tight sleeveless undershirt that showcases his beefcakeyness quite nicely. He stands as I come into the room. "Good Lord, look at you. Your hair is amazing."

Unbelievably, my cheeks flush heat. Such a small compliment, and yet it completely erases any small sense of hesitation. I move straight into his arms, tilt my chin up toward his face. "My father always said flattery deserves a just reward." That's a lie. I never met my father and have no idea where the saying came from. But all that matters now is the reward.

I open my mouth, inviting his whiskey-soaked kiss, and when it comes, it's light-years from gentle. It's tongue and teeth, on my lips, at my neck, and dipping inside the V of my blouse, which opens suddenly, as if by spell. And just as mysteriously, my bra unclasps, spilling the tips of my breasts into the depth of his moan.

Ben lifts me out of my heels, discovers I'm wearing stockings- the classic kind requiring a garter belt, a fact he uncovers when his hand explores the length of my leg, all the way to where thigh meets torso. He draws back, studies me for a second. "Real seamed silk? You are one of a kind, do you know that?"

"Actually, I do."
"I think we'd better work on that three-to-one deal right now." He drapes me across the couch, facedown, lifts my skirt, exposing satin, lace, and peeks of skin. One hand tangles into my hair, pulls it to one side, and he snarls against my nape. The other hand spreads my legs just enough to reach the narrow satin strip, which he moves to one side. "Look at you, all slick and ready."

Ben plays a masterful game. His thumb slides up inside me and tilts to find the hidden spot just behind my pubic bone, while his forefinger wedges against my clitoris. They move in rough unison, on the border of pain, the pressure exquisite. It doesn't take long to initiate my orgasm, punctuated by a whispered "Yes!"