Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Can - By Kat Martin Page 0,62
get home.”
Her heart sputtered. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. “You...you aren’t well enough yet.”
“I’m well enough for what I’ve got in mind.”
“I haven’t said yes.”
“Not yet. I plan to change that.” He turned her hand over, pressed his mouth against the palm, and she felt a little quiver in her stomach.
Ben picked up his menu and opened it as casually as if they had been talking about the weather.
Claire squirmed in the seat. She was wearing red lace panties and a matching bra she had bought on her shopping excursion. Now as she thought of Ben’s words, every time she moved, the lacy cups chaffed her nipples and the panties rasped against intimate places.
“Red or white?” he asked, his head bent over the wine list.
“Wh...what?”
He closed the list and she realized with a surge of embarrassment he was talking about the wine.
He turned to the waiter. “I’ve got a better idea. Bring us a bottle of Dom Pérignon. It’s a special occasion.”
She tried to swallow, couldn’t. Ben Slocum was buying her expensive champagne. He was trying to seduce her. And it was working.
“What are you going to have?” Ben asked as the waiter arrived with a silver ice bucket and a bottle of French champagne. The tall, sandy-haired young man popped the cork and poured the bubbly golden liquid into two chilled flutes.
Ben’s words rushed back and Claire’s stomach lifted. “Fish, I guess. Something light.”
His eyes ran over her, paused on the soft swells of her breasts above the bodice of the dress. “Good idea.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to the evening ahead.”
Her hand shook. She didn’t return the toast, just took a long drink of champagne. When she raised the glass again, Ben’s hand caught her wrist.
“Take it easy, angel. I want you sober when I take you.” He smiled, making him look even more handsome. It was so rare, it always caught her by surprise. “In the meantime, I want you to relax and have a good time.”
She couldn’t miss the teasing glint in his incredible eyes. He was enjoying this—far too much. Well, two could play the game.
She set her champagne glass down on the table. “You’re right. There’s no need to hurry. But while we’re sitting here enjoying ourselves, I want you to know that under this dress I’m wearing a pair of teeny, tiny red bikini panties and thigh-high black stockings. I want you to think about how much you’re going to enjoy peeling them off me.”
Ben’s fingers tightened around the stem of his glass, spilling a little champagne onto the white linen tablecloth. “Lady, you don’t play fair.”
“Yes, well, neither do you.”
He signaled the waiter. “We need to order. I think this meal is going to be a lot shorter than I planned.”
Claire felt a moment of victory.
Then she looked into those hot blue eyes and remembered Ben’s words. She had issued a challenge, and there was no doubt it had just been accepted.
Oh, dear God, what had she done?
* * *
The rain was falling heavily when they left the restaurant, the storm revving up again. They were back at the house by ten o’clock. Not the evening Ben had in mind when he’d come up with the idea, a night that included a stop at a little jazz bar he knew for an after-dinner drink and listening to some music.
But the game had shifted the moment Claire had accepted his challenge and thrown down one of her own. He’d been hard all evening, thinking of those red bikini panties. Thinking of the passionate red-car woman he knew her to be.
They stepped through the garage door into the kitchen. Ben reset the alarm, reached for her and drew her into his arms. He kissed her softly and felt her tremble. Her fingers were stiff where they curled around the lapels of his coat.
He hadn’t expected her to be nervous. But maybe he should have. The first time they’d had sex was an impulse. Claire had sensed his need and responded, sharing the comfort of her body. That comfort had turned into something wild and erotic, something neither of them had expected.
He took her hand, led her toward the living room, where he’d left a lamp turned down low. “How about an after-dinner drink?”
Claire stopped and looked up at him. “Why don’t...don’t you just take me to bed.”
His body was already hard and aching. But he wanted this to be right. Wanted it to be good for Claire.