in his jeans. Even with his clothes on, I could tell that Noah had a body that was made for nothing but pleasure, a body that could give a woman hours of enthusiastic fun. It was a body that turned me on, full stop. Which must have been the reason I’d come on the deck that night.
“Give me a chance,” he said as his mouth gently traveled the side of my neck. “I know I can do it again.”
“This is insane,” I breathed, because I had the urge to pull my skirt up and climb him like a tree.
His free hand slid down my body, then—oh, joy—smoothed the fabric of my skirt down over the curve of my ass, slow and confident. “What’s insane,” he said, “is how much I want to fuck you right now. I’d do it right here in this office if you’d let me.”
He was practically mirroring my own thoughts, but I had too many defenses, which I’d been using for too many years. “You’re just trying to get laid.”
“You think I can’t get laid?” His mouth on my neck was driving me crazy. “I flew across the country to fuck you if I possibly could.” His fingers brushed the hem of my skirt, pulled it up an inch and traced the skin of my thigh. “Do you ever get yourself off in this office?”
Jesus, he was going to kill me. “No.” I paused. “In the bathroom, sometimes.” When I was particularly lonely, particularly stressed, or—okay, fine—particularly horny.
“Sweetheart, you need it so bad,” Noah said, still holding me, his fingers still rubbing my thigh. “So fucking bad.”
I closed my eyes and felt myself give in. We were consenting adults, and he was right here. He’d done the impossible once, after all. Maybe he was the only one who could do it again. And there was only one way to find out.
“My place,” I said, inhaling the scent of him. “Seven o’clock. I’ll text you my address.”
This was either going to be the best or the worst idea I’d ever had.
I was soon going to find out which one it was.
Ten
Noah
* * *
It was fair to say that in my thirty-five years on earth, I’d seduced some women. The first time was when I was fifteen—both the best and the worst thing I’d ever done—and it continued from there. Your seduction game doesn’t mean much when you’re a kid living on the streets of Chicago, but once Tower made money and I was sent to L.A., I leveled up. Way up. The women I’d seduced in the past ten years had been mostly rich, mostly famous, and universally gorgeous. None of them were particularly hard to get into bed. Sex is a Hollywood pastime.
But this seduction was different.
It wasn’t just that I had a serious assignment. I mean, Jesus—I’d had no idea when I fooled around with Emma Riley on my deck that it was going to be such a momentous occasion. Operation Give Emma an Orgasm woke up all of my competitive instincts, but that wasn’t the reason I was standing on Broadway, contemplating going into one of New York’s largest and finest sex shops. No, it felt different with her. She felt different. I thought of that sexy body, that smoky voice, that red hair, and I wanted to do this right. I didn’t know what that meant yet, but I was determined to find out.
I walked into the sex shop to take a look around and hopefully get some inspiration. It was a big store, and except for the clerk behind the front desk, it was empty at the moment—not surprising for three o’clock on a weekday afternoon. The lighting was bright and there was quiet jazz playing over the speakers. I slowly walked the aisles, thinking about Emma.
She wouldn’t want theatrics, I thought. No costumes or masks. Riding crops or ass paddles? You never knew if someone was into pain, but it was a bit aggressive to bring those on the first real encounter. Vibrators? A woman as sexual as Emma—and a woman who had her particular problem—probably had her own library of them, including her tried-and-true favorites.
This woman was going to be a challenge. One I wanted to win.
“Do you need any help?”
I turned to find the store clerk—a woman of about twenty-five with streaks of hot pink in her hair and a lip ring—standing next to me. “Just browsing,” I said, giving her a smile. “Trying to find a way to