Taste of Temptation (5 page)

The sunset ceremony went off without a hitch. Laine stood back and watched as the photographer snapped the last group shots of the wedding party in the rose garden. Everything was perfect. She'd checked the reception hall a half hour ago, and Jason's team had come through, delivering immaculate presentation. This was the kind of day that lured the romantics into the wedding industry. The kind of day where it was easy to believe in true love and forever.

The bride and groom stared at each other with utter adoration, and Laine felt a sudden pang of envy. These two wouldn't have cared if the cake had been a Sara Lee. They wouldn't have cared if the flowers smelled like swamp. All they cared about was being together. Couples like this made romance contagious. Laine surveyed the guests milling in the background and wondered how many of them would sign up for their own big show next June. Quite a few, she suspected.

Everything was perfect, and yet something gnawed at her. She felt off. Distracted, disjointed.

"Looks like you've got a winner this week."

Laine smiled over her shoulder as Jason walked up to her, suddenly aware of what she had missed. “Yep, so far so good. Just keep your bellboy away from the cake. These two deserve the one they ordered."

"Well, I'll admit that a part of me wants to sabotage it, just so we have one to play in, but something tells me the same excuse wouldn't work two weeks in a row."

Her cheeks flushed warm at the mention of their icing escapade. Trying to hide the effect of his reference, she shook her head. “Excuse? What could you possibly have said—?"

"Seizure. The staff is worried about you, but I told them to be kind. You were embarrassed enough as it was."

"You didn't tell them I had a seizure."

"They were really concerned. Good people I have."

Laine couldn't help but laugh. God, she'd almost died of embarrassment sprinting into the elevator to Jason's apartment. Then two days later, at a tasting, she'd almost orgasmed when they served her a slice of coconut cake with buttercream frosting. She'd been tempted to order a slice to go, but it seemed wrong to partake without Jason, and there was no way she'd chase him down for another go round.

Brushing a strand of her hair back, Jason stood behind her and leaned close to her ear. “These two have got it right. Today's about love for them. These are the couples I like to watch."

Her heart stuttered as her shoulders warmed with the close proximity of Jason's chest. She leaned back into him and watched the bride and groom ruin a picture by falling into a kiss that spurred a round of cheers from the wedding party. “Yeah, me too. They didn't stop smiling through the entire ceremony. I even saw them laugh at one point, some small joke between them. Made everyone feel like falling in love."

"Maybe everyone should."

She blinked twice, swallowed hard. Turning her head slowly, she met his gaze. “Maybe."

The photos were done, and the bride and groom were walking toward them. Jason gave her bottom a little pat and turned to head back inside, letting Laine direct the happy couple in their next activities. Cocktails on the sixth floor balcony, and then across to the reception hall for dinner and dancing.

Jason leaned forward in the chair in his office, elbows resting on knees, one hand yanking at his hair, the other fisting the phone against his ear. He didn't want to make this call. Didn't want to have to think about the woman whose slow sultry voice poured through the line like acid into his ear.

"What do you want?” came her lightly-accented demand.

"You know what I want, Sophia. Don't play games with me."

"Well ... you knew what I wanted, but I didn't get it, now did I?"

Jason sat up and spun in his chair so it faced the back wall of his office. “How's Enrique?"

"Who?"

A long pull on a thin cigarette filtered through the line, conjuring a million unwanted memories. He waited her out.

"Oh, of course. Enrique. I barely remember his name. It seems he meant more to you than to me."

His hand balled, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “Sophia, think of this as a business opportunity."

Another drag and a short laugh. “But, Jason, I always have."

Gritting his teeth, he berated himself. Even now she had power over him. It infuriated him that she maintained that control—that she could influence his emotions in the slightest. Young and stupid, he'd blindly given her that control and, when she'd abused it, he spent years defending himself against any such marauder again. No one got close enough to touch his heart. No one mattered.

And then Laine strolled into his life on her four-inch heels with wild demands and sassy attitude, and, bit by bit, unwittingly, she chipped away his resolve. He'd fought against it, told himself it was too late, but in the end all she had to do was walk into a room and he was smiling. All he had to do was think of her, and everything seemed better.

Everything was better.

Laine.

His fists relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair, letting go of his anger. “Good, then, Sophia. If it's business, we should have no problem coming to an agreement."

Following some debate, they worked out a time and set up a meeting. Jason hung up the phone and pulled open the center drawer on his desk, slipping out a single photo that lay atop the clutter. It was Laine, leaning against a pillar in the lobby. She was watching one of her brides kiss the groom before they left the hotel. Jason had seen the photographer snapping photos that day and paid him for the shot. It was money well spent.

Jason stared at the sweet smile on her face. He was a fool for waiting so long to go after her. From the beginning, she was the woman he coveted, the one who stirred feelings he was unwilling to act on. For so long he thought he could be satisfied with a relationship that didn't breach the professional barrier between them. Being close to her made him feel alive, challenged, interested. And under the pretense of building up the nuptial business, he was able to spend time with her without the risk of getting in too deep. He'd gone on like that for nearly a year, fantasizing about her, but refusing to move. Pretending that he didn't need more. That he hadn't fallen completely in love with her.

But when she'd been threatened by that asshole in the kitchen, something snapped inside him, and he couldn't pretend anymore. He wanted to be the man she ran to, the man to comfort her, to hold her, to make the jackass who thought he had the right to touch her pay.

He wanted her.

She hadn't taken him seriously last week when he'd asked her out. And even after they'd made love, she didn't seem sure of his intentions or her own feelings about them. But Jason knew what he wanted. He wanted Laine, and he was going to do whatever it took to convince her that he was worth taking a chance on.

The cake was served, the band played and the mandatory dances and events had been accomplished without a single snag. In short, Laine's job was complete. She slumped back in her chair and reached for the flute of champagne that had been waiting for two hours. It was flat and warm, but it didn't matter, she was ready to toast herself for a day without flaw.

Her fingers no more than grazed the glass when it was swept out of her reach and another fizzing flute presented. She looked up into Jason's face.

"Nothing worse than flat champagne.” He was staring again, that possessive, sexy, blue-eyed stare.

"I guess you're my hero, then."

"You've finally noticed. Have a sip of that bubbly and take a spin around the dance floor with me. They're playing our song."

Laine paused with the flute halfway to her lips. She had no idea what kind of dancer Jason was, but the song was slow and smooth, and she didn't think she'd get her feet stepped on too much since it was already half over. What the hell.

After savoring a long, sweet sip of champagne, she offered her hand to Jason and allowed him to escort her onto the floor. With a smooth sweep of his arm, he circled her into his chest and proceeded to lead. He was easy to follow and, though it wasn't anything flashy or complicated, dancing with Jason made her feel like Ginger Rogers. He was good. She could get used to the solid feel of his body against her own, the gentle press and pull of his warm palm against the small of her back, the rub of his thighs against her hips.

Moist breath swirled around her ear as Jason bowed his head toward hers. “So in July, when I take you to my cottage, pack light. Or don't bother packing at all. I'm planning to keep you naked for the entire Sunday to Wednesday stay. No worries, you won't miss a single Saturday. You can bring a suitcase filled with those high heels I love so much. Wear them when you're feeling formal. But I want to see you naked every second I'm with you."

Laine's smile froze in place. Heat pooled in her belly and swirled lower as she listened to the promise of things to come if she accommodated his desire to keep her naked for a little trip. He knew what to say and how to say it. He was so confident. Like he knew she wanted to comply, to strip for him that very minute to see what reward there would be for pleasing him.

Damn he was so good, too good. Dangerously good.

She tried to pull away, but his hold on her was firm.

"No way, I've been waiting all week to get this close to you. You're done for the night. I think it's time you said your goodbyes and got on with your own plans."

Her heart beat faster, and she felt the skin across her chest heat as her nipples tightened and rose against the peach silk sheath she wore.

"Jason...” What did she want to say? Maybe it was just the need to have his name on her lips, but it was all she could get out.

The hand that held hers between their chests slipped free, Jason's fingers traced over her collarbone, lower to the deep neckline of her dress. His touch was electric.

"I want you,” he whispered, his lips grazing the outer ridge of her ear. “I can't stop touching you. I want to stroke the softest parts of you, taste your sweetness."

Laine shuddered in his arms. She sounded breathless to her own ears. “Let's get out of here."

The elevator doors swooshed shut, and Jason pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing against hers as he backed her against the mirrored wall.

"What if the doors open?” she gasped, not really caring if some geriatric tourist was in the elevator with them that instant, so long as Jason kept touching her.

"It's going to the penthouse,” he murmured against the tender skin beneath her jaw. “No stops until the top. No security."

Laine's gaze fixed on their reflection in far wall. “I like to see us together like this. It's sexy."

Jason's head rose, and he followed her gaze over his shoulder. Stepping to the side so that more of her was revealed, he smiled. “Very. Take off the dress for me, and I'll show you sexy."

Her heart stalled as he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting. The promise of more heat to come was too tempting to pass up, and she found herself unzipping the side of her gown, her eyes locked with his. With one hand across her breasts she used the other to slip the spaghetti straps off her shoulders and then let the dress fall into a pool at her feet, except for her hold on the single strap. She stepped out of the gown, and slipped it over the side of the rail mounted to the wall.

Sex was great, but she had to have something to wear to these weddings.

Jason knelt down beside her and helped her out of the lacy underwear, tucking them into his suit jacket pocket. “For safekeeping,” he said with a laugh. Stroking the back of her thigh down to her ankle and up again with a feather soft touch, he pointed to her reflection across the car.

"You're beautiful, Laine."

Chills danced across her bare skin, tightening her nipples into crinkled points. She loved it when he said her name. “You make me feel that way."

"I'll make you feel even better.” Taking both her hands, he pressed them against the rail behind her and then cupped her calf, guiding it up until he draped it over his shoulder. He ran his mouth against the lips of her sex, parting them with his tongue for one teasing taste. “I want you to watch yourself when I make you come. There's nothing sexier than the look on your face at that moment."

The elevator doors opened at the side to Jason's apartment, and with a quick movement, he reached over to the panel and hit the stop button. Turning back, he buried his face between her legs.

She gasped at the pull of his mouth against her clit. Jason was wrong. There was nothing sexier than the man making love to her with his mouth at that moment.

His hand snaked up the side of her torso, seeking out her breast and brushing her nipple with the pad of his thumb.

She panted, watching her reflection, fully nude, obscured only by Jason's dark hair moving back and forth as he devoured her sex. Her skin was pale, dotted by a flush of red across her chest and neck where the blood beneath the surface had started a slow boil.

Hips rocking with the motion of his mouth, Laine let her head loll back against the wall, the coil of desire twisting tighter within her. Her breath came faster. She gripped the rail behind her as though she clung to it for dear life.

Suddenly, the sound of “Here Comes the Bride” filled the small elevator, drowning out her pleasured gasps. Laine's hands fisted against the rail. “No,” she cried. “God, I'm so close. Ignore it, please."

Jason didn't seem to have much problem doing just that, the tinny music played for a few more seconds before the call went to voice mail and the elevator was again echoing with only the sounds of wet kisses and groans as Jason pleasured her.

Keeping her eyes riveted on their reflection, she climbed toward orgasm fast. Jason's hand pulled and played with her nipple while his mouth worked her sex. He squeezed the tip of her nipple as he tongued her channel. She was so close, so wet, her body clenched and pulsed with every plunge, pinch and lap. Her breath was ragged, her moans persistent. And the phone started playing again.

"Agh.” She crashed down several rungs on the pleasure ladder, but Jason's hands shifted—one to her ass, where he pulled her closer against him as he circled her clit, and the other down to her silk clutch on the floor.

Thank God, he was going to turn the damn thing off. But just as she'd started to relax back into the rhythm of his feast, he held the phone up in front of her face ... open and connected.

He sucked her erect clit between his teeth, making her yelp as she grasped the phone.

"Laine? Laine? This is Connie, what's going on? The wedding—how was it?"

Laine stared at the phone in horror as Jason nibbled the erogenous bundle of nerves at her center. What could she do? He'd connected the call.

"Connie.” Her voice sounded husky and thick. “The wedding ... sooo good..."

"Well, good. You deserve it after last week. Have you spoken to the florist about replacing the tulips for the Masters/Felps wedding?"

Laine's brain struggled to follow and decipher the words coming through the phone ... She let her head fall back, wondering if she could just hang up, explain later that there had been bad reception ... All she wanted was to slide onto Jason's cock and ride him into oblivion. The pleasure was more than she could bear.

The pressure against her clit increased, jarring her out of her trance. He was circling hard with the pointed tip of his tongue and slipping two fingers inside her while he did it. She was going to come on the spot—no, on the phone with her boss.

"Yes ... yes ... Yes, Connie, it's taken care of.” She rushed. “Now's not a ... mmm ... so good ... time. Let me call you ... uuuhhh ... tomorrow with more details ... Bye—"

She couldn't hear Connie's response as she flipped the phone closed and disconnected the call. Tossing the phone aside, she wound her fingers into Jason's hair as sharp, pulsing waves crashed through her body. Screaming, she came against his mouth.

Laine was wrapped around him, her naked arms and legs like a vise, her kisses covering his face, hair and neck—she was chaos in a pleasured assault showering down on him. With Laine in his arms, his suit pants at his knees, her dress in his teeth, Jason staggered out of the elevator into his apartment, slammed Laine's bare back against the foyer wall.

"I need you. God, hurry,” she cried against his neck, wriggling against his cock, trying to pull herself over it.

Dropping the dress, he gritted his teeth. “The bedroom ... just a few feet away,” he promised them both, grinding against her wet pussy with a groan, using all his restraint to wait for the condom in the bedside table.

"The bedroom,” she gasped, with a sultry, teasing laugh. “I'm honored. I thought your dates never saw the inside of your apartment.” A fresh assault of kisses and bites rained down over his neck and ear. “After my shower here last week, tonight will be twice already—those hotel gossips are worthless for reliable information."

Jason almost stopped dead. It was true. He never felt right bringing women back to the penthouse. It was where he went to sleep, not to fuck his casual dates. But it hadn't even occurred to him that he wouldn't bring Laine up here. He'd been fantasizing about luring her into his bed for months. In his head she belonged in his apartment, in his space, spending time with him. Forever.

Still, it wasn't what he'd expected to hear as he tumbled through the apartment with her in his arms. The fact was, none of the rules he lived by seemed to matter in the context of Laine Malone. She was worth the risk ... to everything. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, it fled with Laine's words. “I'm about to come just from touching you. Hurry, I want you inside me..."

He was done for.