Ladies' Man (5 page)

Three years. Sam was surprised it had been that long. Her wounds seemed much more recent.

“I think we should have a toast,” Ellen said, filling her glass. “To a summer in New York City. Richard hated New York City. He hated Bob. And you know what? When he sees it, he’s going to hate that commercial I made. He’s gonna hate that I dyed my hair blond. He would have hated your hair too—and you can take that as a compliment.”

Sam ran one hand self-consciously through his hair, still holding her close with the other. “Too long for old Richard?” he asked.

“Too long, too blond, too sexy, too still-on-your-head.” Ellen ran her fingers through the hair in question. “Richard is…hair challenged. Before the end of the decade, he’s going to be nearly entirely bald.”

Sam laughed, kissing her, his own hands exploring the softness of her curves, the smooth firmness of her bare thigh. “You sound just a little too happy about that.”

“He lied to me for twelve years. If God sees fit to make him lose all of his hair, who am I to complain?”

Sam covered her mouth with his again, but she pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. “Richard would hate the way I’ve been kissing you. Such a typical double standard.”

“Richard’s not here,” Sam said, kissing her eyes, her face, her neck.

“Do you know what Richard would
really
hate?” she asked.

This time Sam pulled back. He gazed into the midnight darkness of her eyes, well aware of what she’d intended to imply. Richard would really hate it if they made love. He knew he shouldn’t say anything. He knew he should simply kiss her, and keep kissing her until their clothes were pushed aside and he was buried deep inside of her. She wanted him to make love to her—to get back at the man who had hurt her so badly.

What the hell did he care why she wanted him? She wanted him—that should’ve been enough.

But it wasn’t, and he couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “That’s not a very good reason for us to be together,” he said softly.

She took another fortifying sip of her champagne and closed her eyes. “I know,” she murmured. “But it’s not the only reason.”

Ellen opened her eyes and looked at Sam. His hair was a mess, his tie loosened and askew, the top button of his shirt undone. He looked incredibly handsome with those blue eyes and that perfectly sculpted face, those adorable dimples. He wanted her—she could see it in his eyes—and knowing that gave her the strength to tell him the truth.

“I haven’t been with anyone since I left Richard,” she said softly. “It’s been more than four years, but I haven’t wanted to. I haven’t wanted any kind of intimacy—not until now.”

His eyes sparked at her words. “And how many years has it been since you’ve helped to kill two bottles of champagne?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I’m not drunk,” she told him. Yes, the wine had lowered her inhibitions, but she wasn’t drunk. She reached out to touch his face. “You’re so sweet—you’re trying to protect me from myself, aren’t you?”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.” He closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek into her palm.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve spent my entire life doing things other people expect of me,” she countered. “I came to New York this summer to do something for
myself
, to do the things that I want to do.” She lowered her voice. “And I think you know what I want to do right now.”

It was all that Sam needed to hear.

Once again Ellen let him take the glass from her hand and set it down. Then he kissed her again.

It was one hell of a dizzying kiss, and somehow, in the course of it, he managed to pull her gently down onto the seat with him.

He stopped for a moment to shrug out of his jacket and to pull off his tie, and then he kissed her again—long, slow, deep kisses that nearly made her unable to think.

Nearly.

As Ellen closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around this man she barely knew, she vacillated wildly between wondering what the hell she was doing and being thoroughly convinced that she was one hundred percent right.

She
was
right. She was exorcising the ghosts of her past with this young, handsome, willing stranger. She was the self-proclaimed queen of sex-only-with-commitment-and-love—God knows she’d preached about it enough times to her kids. But in an attempt to regain control of her life, she was in the process of having a one-night stand.

In the back of a moving limousine.

With a man ten years her junior.

Who happened to look like a movie star.

And kiss like an angel from heaven.

Sam shifted slightly, so that he was lying next to her on the soft leather of the seat, one arm around her, one leg pressed between hers, hiking her skirt up. He kissed her again, his tongue taking lazy possession of her mouth, as his free hand gently tugged her blouse from the waist of her skirt. He took his time caressing the softness of her breasts through the silk, took his time unfastening the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons, took his time sliding his mouth down to her chin, her jaw, her throat, her collarbone.

His mouth moved even lower as his fingers unhooked the last button of her blouse, and he kissed her through the soft lace of her bra, touching her with his tongue, pulling, gently at first, then harder.

He unfastened the front clasp of her bra, and Ellen stopped thinking. She could only feel, only shiver, only respond to his hands and his mouth, to his deep inhale of pleasure, to the exquisitely seductive sensation of his skin against hers, to the unmistakable length of his arousal held tightly against her thigh.

She reached between them to unbutton his shirt, needing to feel his skin beneath her hands as well.

Sam pulled back slightly, giving her room, reaching up to help her with the last of the buttons. He would have pulled his shirt off his shoulders and shaken it off his arms, but she stopped him.

“We better keep most of our clothes on,” she whispered.

He looked disappointed. “No one can see in these windows.”

“I know, I just…What if we get into an accident, and—”

He kissed her. “Shhh. It’s all right. You don’t need to explain. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”

He had golden blond hair on his chest and more muscles than she’d ever seen up close and personal. She touched him, lightly at first, then harder. His back was so smooth, the hair on his chest so soft. She could feel his hand, sliding up her leg, pushing her skirt up, nearly to her hips. The sensation was incredible, and she laughed aloud.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

He smiled at her, a hot, fierce smile. “I can’t believe it either. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up any minute.”

She reached for his belt buckle. “Do you have a condom? Please say yes.”

“Yes.” He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it within easy reach on the carpeted floor.

“Gee whiz, and it’s so conveniently handy too.” She opened his belt and unfastened the button of his pants. “I must’ve been shooting out obvious pheromones all evening long. Talk about a sure thing.”

“No, I’m just an eternal optimist,” he told her with another long, searing kiss. His hands explored the edge of her silk and lace panties, his fingers slipping underneath to find her wet and ready for him. Man, was she ready for him.

Ellen heard herself moan as she lifted her hips toward him, pushing him more deeply inside of her.

Sam nearly lost it. She hadn’t even really touched him yet—her fingers were just fumbling gently with his zipper—and he’d nearly slipped over the edge. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so totally turned on.

It was strange—he would’ve thought making love this way, with their clothes only unfastened or pushed aside, wouldn’t have been as good. But as much as he was dying to see Ellen naked, the sight of her lying beneath him with her beautiful body half hidden by her disheveled clothes was making him crazy. One taut, dark pink nipple peeked out from the silk of her shirt. Her skirt was twisted around her waist, exposing her long, exquisitely shaped legs. He’d all but pushed aside the black silk and lace of her panties and the effect made his blood burn through his veins.

She worked his zipper down, then touched him, covering him with her hand through the cotton of his shorts.

The sensation lit him on fire.

He shifted his weight, pressing himself between her legs, only the fabric of their clothes keeping them from becoming one. Dear God, he’d died and gone to heaven.

Sam kissed her—or she kissed him—he didn’t know, it didn’t matter. He moved then, stroking her with the length of his arousal, and she moved, too, lifting her hips in rhythm with him.

The promise of ecstasy was too much to take, and Sam moved quickly, pulling himself off of her, slipping her panties down her legs.

She reached for him, trying to push his pants over his hips. He freed himself in one smooth motion, then reached across her for the condom. As his fingers closed around it her fingers closed around him.

“Gotcha,” she murmured, and Sam laughed out loud.

She did. She had him. Completely. She owned him. He was thoroughly infatuated. Of course, it was true that he became infatuated with a beautiful woman as quickly and as easily as most people bought a new pair of sneakers, but this was stronger than what he’d felt most of the time. He was willing to bet this crush he had would last for the entire summer. It was also true that a whole summer was about two months longer than his usual romantic fling, but Ellen wasn’t usual, in any way, shape, or form.

Sam had a feeling that this was going to be the best summer of his entire life.

He tore open the condom and she helped him cover himself. Actually, her help was debatable—she made both it and him harder, but Sam didn’t mind. He was in no hurry. He had the entire summer.

She surprised him by straddling him, by kissing him hungrily as she impaled herself upon him, surrounding him with her tight heat.

There was no doubt about it, he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. She began to move, and he moved with her, gazing into her eyes as she held on to the seat back behind him.

She closed her eyes and her head went back as he shifted his hips, pushing himself more deeply inside of her. This was good. It was
too
good. There had to be some kind of catch.

Whatever it was, it was going to be well worth it for all he was feeling right now.

They were moving slowly, languorously, each thrust of his hips bringing dizzying, melting pleasure. But then the car jerked to a stop, and he reached for her, holding her tightly to keep them both from sliding onto the floor. His movement pushed him up inside of her, sharp and fast and heart-stoppingly deep. They both cried out, and Sam knew that she was as close to release as he was.

And then the phone rang.

They both froze. Ellen opened her eyes and stared directly at him. Then she put one finger to her lips, reached behind him, and pushed on the speakerphone.

“Yes, Ron?” she asked, her voice sounding remarkably normal.

“Everything okay back there?” Ron asked. “Sorry about stopping short like that.”

Sam wanted desperately to laugh, and he could see that Ellen did too. In fact, he realized that she could no longer speak. She buried her face in his neck.

“Not a problem, Ron.” He raised his voice to be picked up by the speakerphone. He looked out the window, trying to figure out where they were. “Hey, would you mind taking us past the public library?” That was way on the other side of town. “Ellen hasn’t had a chance to see the lions yet.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Harrison,” Ron said cheerfully.

As Ellen reached up and cut the connection, they both dissolved into laughter.

“I haven’t had a chance to see the lions,” Ellen repeated. “It sounds like some incredible euphemism. You know, like, ‘Was it good for you, honey? Did you…see the lions?’”

Sam laughed even harder. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this…happy. He caught Ellen’s face with both hands, kissing her hard on the mouth. “I’m having more fun tonight than I’ve ever had in my entire life,” he told her.

“I bet you say that to all the women who seduce you in the back of their uncle’s limousine.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “All one of them.”

Ellen felt herself melt as she gazed into Sam’s eyes. There was a softness there, a tenderness that made her feel warm inside. Cared for. Cherished.

He kissed her gently. “I’m serious, Ellen,” he whispered. “I swear, I’ve never felt anything like this before.” He kissed her again. Harder this time. Deeper. Longer. And their passion reignited instantly, scorching her to her very soul.

She knew his sweet words were just that—sweet words. Still, she knew it wouldn’t take much for her to fall in love with this sexy, gorgeous man.

But what a mistake
that
would be.

She closed her eyes, banishing all thought as she began to move, both with him and against him. Thinking was not allowed. Only feeling. And oh, the way he was making her feel.

He moved faster now, faster and harder and deeper, and Ellen matched his rhythm, losing herself in his kisses and caresses, letting herself spin out of control.

There was no past, no future. There was only this moment, and it was a very,
very
good moment, exploding with light and color and wave upon wave of wild sensation.

Her entire body seemed to shake with the strength of her release, and she felt Sam’s body answer. He pulled her mouth down to his for a deliciously ferocious kiss that muffled his groans of pleasure.

Still breathing hard, Ellen clung to him, refusing to acknowledge any of the questions that were trying to break into the aftermath of their passion.

What happens now?
Try as she might, that was one question that she couldn’t easily ignore.

Ellen peeked out from underneath her eyelashes. Sam’s head was back, his own eyes closed.

Without opening his eyes, he smiled slightly and pulled her even closer, holding her tightly but so gently, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back. He sighed with the deepest contentment.