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They rode side by side in silence, arms only brushing when someone else jostled them. The door opened into the lobby and she stepped out while he held the door for others. The sight of his thoughtfulness sent a different kind of warmth through her. She turned and scanned the street, to see if he'd called for Arthur and his car, but a fleet of black vehicles lined the street. She wouldn't recognize his car anyway.

Then he was beside her and holding the glass door open for her. She stopped on the sidewalk and waited for guidance.

"Are you hungry?” he asked.

"I can't think about food right now."

His dimples deepened and he took her hand. “I thought we'd go to the park, but...” He gestured to the gray, drizzly sky. “I have an idea.” And he turned in the opposite direction of the hotel, where her mind had already checked in and stripped him of his clothes.

"Not the hotel?” she asked a bit breathlessly as she hurried behind him.

"Laurie eats lunch at the restaurant next door every day. If she saw us..."

She finished his thought when he trailed off. Everyone in the office would find out, and one of them would have to go. She wasn't ready to risk that consequence yet. They'd already risked too much at the office. “So, where?"

"You'll see."

They dodged traffic and swarms of people on the sidewalk heading for lunch, and the next thing she knew, she was trotting up the stairs to the museum, along with hundreds of tourists and flocks of school kids.

Her expectations fell away and she pushed every thought of sex out of her head, because it didn't appear to be happening this afternoon. Vicente removed his wallet without releasing her hand, flashed a card to one of the ticket-takers, and led her toward the elevator. Thank God. Her thighs were still burning from the run up the stairs to the museum.

"Vicente, where—?"

Again, they were not alone in the elevator. Three elderly couples, obviously together, eyed the two of them suspiciously even as Vicente flashed a charming grin. As the doors closed, he pulled Veronica back against his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her ear.

All those thoughts of sex zipped right back to the forefront as his hardening cock nudged her ass. But what was he thinking? The museum?

The couples exited on the next floor, and were replaced by a young mother with two babies in a stroller. Vicente splayed his hand over Veronica's stomach, tucking her more firmly against him as he greeted the young woman and pressed the button for the floor she requested. Veronica resisted the urge to rub up and down the length of him, though her pussy heated, ached to feel him inside her.

"We are never going to have this elevator alone, if that's what you're hoping for,” she murmured when the woman pushed the stroller off at the next floor. Several other people waited to get on.

He nudged her toward the door, his hands on her waist. “Turn right."

She pressed through the people entering the elevator, losing his touch, then swiveled to see him exit, a slight smile quirking his lips when he turned, his eyes lighting when their gazes met. A woman could get used to a man looking at her like that.

He caught up to her, grabbed her hand and led the way down the hall, down a smaller one, and a smaller one still, until they were alone and the room was silent except for the buzz of the security system.

"Vicente."

He pivoted, crowding her into an alcove, until her back was against the wall and his arms framed her head. “All I could think about during that phone call was my dick in your mouth."

Her heart gave a hard thud and her pussy quivered. Did he mean for them to have sex here? In public? She'd never done anything like that, well, unless she counted letting the driver watch Vicente touch her last night and going down on Vicente in his office. She parted her lips as he nudged her legs apart, her pulse drowning out any objection her common sense might be whispering. She'd loved giving him head, and him repaying the favor, but now, “I want you inside me."

"Show me your nipples."

His breath brushed warm over the hollow of her throat as he bent close. She glanced over his shoulder at the open room and raised shaking hands to the buttons of her blouse. “What if someone wants to look at,” she twisted to read the wall plate beside the giant square painting behind her. “Hampton Number Six?"

"Unlikely.” He reached into her open blouse and plucked her nipple between his fingers, then reached down to unfasten his belt and his slacks. “Show me your pussy."

Her face heating, she parted her skirt and he leaned back to look, stroking his middle finger around the neat triangle before sliding between her slick, swollen lips, toying with her entrance, back to her ass before sliding forward to the hard bud of her clitoris. No doubt he could feel each throb of her heart as he pressed a finger against her clit. She arched toward him, wanting the pleasure he offered, wanting him to make her come, not caring who saw.

"So wet. Jesus, so wet.” He removed his touch, licked the taste of her from his finger, holding her gaze as he did, then reached into his pocket. He pressed a foil packet into her palm, then freed his erection. “Put the condom on me. I want to fuck you."

"Here.” Not quite a question. She just wanted to make sure.

He cupped her hips in his hands, edged her closer to a padded bench placed in the alcove so someone could no doubt admire the brilliance of Hampton Number Six. But now Vicente slid a hand down her thigh, bending her knee and lifting her leg to place her foot on the bench, opening her to him.

Oh. God. If anyone walked around the corner, they would be able to see right up her—

"Veronica.” He held his cock in his hand expectantly, rubbing lightly, his pants drooping just below his hips. “The condom."

"Right.” Shaking even more now, she ripped it open, pulled out the condom and rolled it down the length of him.

"Now bring me into you.” His voice was a growl, his accent thicker. “I need to be inside you."

She didn't know who needed it more as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and guided him to her cunt, thanking God for high heels so that he only had to bend a little to nudge her entrance. Then he cupped her ass in both hands and plunged into her.

Her moan echoed off the walls as the blunt head stretched her, as his thick, long cock slid into her, a move so easy because she was so damned ready. He turned, his face so close, to smile. “Shh."

She nodded, but with his next thrust forgot again, and he pressed a hand to her mouth. God, he was so deep, even at this impossible angle, and it had been so long, and she'd been thinking about this all morning. He eased forward, angling her so his body pressed against her engorged clit, rubbed against it as the head of his cock stroked deep. She clutched the shoulders of his shirt and let her head fall back to the wall. He lowered his lips to the curve of her throat so that his body was folded around her. The scent of him filled her senses, the movement of his muscles beneath her hands, the rhythm of his strokes, his fingers squeezing her ass, molding her to him.

"I want to taste your pussy,” he murmured against her skin.

"No, don't leave me."

"Let me taste you."

He watched her through hooded eyes and she understood his meaning. She released her death grip on his shoulder, slid her hand down the front of his shirt, feeling the pounding of his heart. His strokes stilled as she skimmed her hand down his stomach, curled briefly around his cock before dipping between her own legs. His gaze followed the movement as she circled her clit, slicking her fingers, advancing her own already out of control desire before lifting her hand to his lips. He slid to the hilt as he sucked her fingers into his mouth, curled his tongue around them, dragged them out as he pulled his cock from her body, only to push back into her channel, sending little sparklers of pleasure zinging through her blood, and she pushed against him, wanting the feeling to continue, to build. Her breath came in little pants as he deepened his strokes, pushed into her more quickly, his own breath sounding desperate, his pulse thudding in his throat, echoing in his chest, pounding in her cunt.

Then she heard footsteps.

"Vicente!” She pushed at his shoulders, trying to lower her leg, panic chasing those thrilling little fireworks from her blood.

But he didn't stop stroking into her, instead curved his fingers into the cleft of her ass, stroking over her—oh, God. The sensation of his touch circling her tight hole, the approaching sound of footsteps and the deep, measured pounding of his cock inside her combined to send her rocketing, flying into pieces. He covered her mouth with his to quiet the whimpers that tore from her throat. His strokes quickened, deep, then shallow before she felt the pulse inside her, heard the sigh of pleasure that told her he'd come, too.

And the footsteps continued to approach.

"Vicente!” She tried to convey her urgency, difficult with his mouth still against hers, but after what felt like an eternity, he pulled out, dealt with the condom and his slacks as she buttoned her blouse.

When the security guard rounded the corner, she was tucked in the crook of Vicente's arm on the bench, his arm braced on the seat behind her, both of them staring at Hampton Number Six.

"Perhaps,” Vicente murmured when the guard gave them a nod and moved on, “we can get a copy of the video?"

Horror bloomed in her chest when she followed his gaze to the camera positioned right at the painting.

Veronica adjusted the neckline of her new black jersey dress as she looked in the mirror, nerves jittery as she waited for the buzzer that signaled her visitor. Vicente had called her into his office this afternoon and she'd walked in on shaky legs. She couldn't deal with another close encounter—not with Vicente, but with someone catching them in the act. She wasn't cut out for this. She'd adjusted her blouse and stepped into the office, heart pounding.

He leaned back in his chair, bouncing a pen on his desk as he watched her with those damned sexy eyes. Okay, so she would do whatever he wanted, if he'd make her turn into a puddle of pleasure again.

"I thought we could go dancing tonight."

"Dancing.” Her body pressed to his, his hands on her, his attention on her, swaying to the music. “Yes. I'd like that."

And as soon as five thirty hit, she'd run off to buy this dress, and new panties.

This dress was a little more subtle than the dress she'd worn last night but still didn't hide much, with its plunging neckline, floaty skirt and clinging fabric. She could already feel Vicente's hands on her breasts through the thin knit.

God. She still couldn't believe what they'd done this afternoon, couldn't believe the risk, the pleasure. But tonight she'd bring him back here, make love to him in her bed, in any position he wanted, just so she could savor him.

He buzzed for her. She gathered her tiny purse, with her keys, phone, lipstick and condoms, in case he hadn't thought to get more, and hurried out the door and down to the car.

Vicente lounged against the car, arms folded, looking devastating in a maroon shirt and dark slacks. His gaze swept appreciatively down her body as she approached, and he pushed away from the car to open the door for her.

"Is all your evening wear so provocative?” he asked, sliding a hand around her waist, his breath teasing her lips.

She eased back enough to look into his eyes. “This is new. I bought this one just for you."

He brushed his thumb over her hip and his eyebrows went up when he encountered the elastic of her new thong. “Lucky me.” He lowered his mouth another fraction of an inch and kissed her.

She could kiss him all night, the way he nuzzled her gently, his tongue teasing her lips, her tongue.

"We could just stay here,” she said against his mouth when he eased away. “Go back upstairs and do more of that."

He stepped away then, bracing a hand on the top of the car door, that sexy smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “And waste your pretty new dress? I don't think so."

She slid into the car. “Hello, Arthur,” she said to the driver, catching his glance in the rear view mirror as she smoothed her skirt.

"Good evening."

Vicente climbed in beside her and closed the door. He curved his arm around her shoulders and leaned into her. She waited for him to slide his hand under her hem or down the vee of her dress, or at least kiss her throat, but all he did was instruct Arthur to the club.

Her fears that she'd done something wrong were soon assuaged. They passed the line to enter the club, pulsing with dance music, a thick Spanish beat, heavy on guitar and drums. She paused to look over the dance floor, where couples were moving together and apart, some treating the dance as no more than foreplay, moving into each other, rubbing against each other. Others seemed to take great pride in stepping in time to the music, twirling, ducking, spinning with great skill. Which would Vicente expect? She could dance, but finding a rhythm with a man on a first date was tricky.

His hand on her waist, he guided her to the bar. “Martini?"

"Mm, a chocolate one.” She leaned one arm against the bar as he ordered their drinks.

He cut her a sharp glance. “Did you eat?"

She frowned. Why did he ask? “I had a salad after I went shopping."

He trailed his fingertips along her jaw. “I've been remiss in feeding you. Perhaps later we can get something to eat."

"I'm fine,” she assured him, turning into his touch and lifting her gaze. His smile sent a shiver of delight through her. She was happier than she could remember being, and the idea scared her, but she pushed the fear away. How often did a woman get a chance to feel this sexy, this desirable?

He dropped his touch to take their drinks from the bar. He passed her the martini glass and took her hand, leading her toward the tables circling the dance floor.

"Do you like to dance?” He held her chair.

"Mm.” She sat and sipped of her drink. “I need a bit more of this before I try that.” She motioned to a couple who whipped by.