Gorgeous As Sin

altogether concerned with observers when she was beginning to believe in castles in the air.

“I know so. It’s a harem present.” He didn’t even watch her face as he spoke, the gift untainted by malice-for her pleasure alone.

But once they reached her apartment, he sat down on the nearest chair with her on his lap, took her purse and package, set them aside, and simply held her. “It’s been quite a long day,” he gruffly said, leaving a trail of kisses across her forehead and down her cheek. “Way too long…”

It was amazing, she thought, how happiness filled her to overflowing when Fitz was near-spilling out in a smile she couldn’t contain. Even when she should have known better than to care about a man like him. “I missed you,” she whispered, enraptured and smitten. “There. I’m like all the other adoring women in your life. And I don’t care.”

“You’re nothing like the others. Not even close.” If he hadn’t drunk so much, if he hadn’t found Madame Rivera’s intolerable for the first time in his life, if he didn’t feel as though he’d reached safe haven when he’d never so much as thought of the phrase before, he wouldn’t have added with such vehemence, “Thank God you finally came home.”

And you were here. “I’m sorry you had to wait.”

“Where were you?” Another first-wanting to know where a woman had been, when he normally wanted to know when they were leaving.

“I went to see Dr. Swindell.”

“Christ,” he muttered, knowing he was responsible. “I knew I should have been more careful last night.”

“No, no, everything’s fine. I’d made an appointment yesterday, so I kept it, that’s all.”

He leaned back marginally and scanned her face. “You’re sure? ”

“Positive.”

He exhaled in relief. “I’ll be on my best behavior; your present can wait,” he added. “It was probably a selfish gesture anyway.”

She grinned. “You, selfish? ”

“Point taken. On the other hand,” he said, smiling in return, “you’ve been known to make a few selfish demands yourself.” His smile widened. “Give me more comes to mind.”

“Or how about, Give me my present?” Curiosity overcame politesse.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You were at the doctor today because of me. It can wait until you’re in the pink of health again.”

“I am, for heaven’s sake. I’m perfectly fine. I couldn’t be better. Just show me. Please…”

Since he was here in the first place because he couldn’t resist her, he was hardly in the position to deny such an appealing plea. “It’s just a toy,” he said in dismissal.

“I love toys.” Had some other woman spoken in that coquettish voice?

With a reluctant sigh and a grimace, he pulled a narrow shagreen box from his pocket. “This is for later now. I don’t want to argue.”

It’s jewelry, she thought at the sight of the leather box, a necklace perhaps from the shape. But as she was beginning to take issue with what she perceived as his customary gift for the women in his life, he flipped open the lid.

“Wherever did you get that? ” she blurted out, shocked-and intrigued.

“At a jeweler’s. It’s a Renaissance piece, but don’t worry, I was assured that it’s been thoroughly cleaned. Apparently, it’s a Cellini object d’art.”

“Are you serious? ”

He grinned. “I generally try not to be, but in this case I am.”

“May I touch it? ”

“Certainly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the gold engraved dildo, then lifted it from the silk-lined box and studied the amorous images. As she turned the exquisite piece to view all the scenes, the starkly erotic content triggered an immediate and heated response-which was the point no doubt of the portrayals of mythical figures engaged in amorous play. Although Fitz’s erection pressing into her bottom also contributed to her expeditious arousal. A charming combination in any event. “Maybe we could try this,” she murmured, a distinctly carnal heat warming her senses, melting inside her.

Fitz shook his head. “We should wait.”

“This is smaller than you.”

“It’s metal though-not in the least pliant.”

“I hardly think your erection is what you’d call pliant.”

“It is in contrast to this. I’m not arguing, darling.” He took it from her hand and shoved it in his pocket. “We’ll use it some other time.”

“Or you could just watch.”

He looked at her from under his lashes. “Now you’re trying to torment me.”

“At least he’s interested,” she said softly, shifting in his lap, his rigid length pronounced.

“Don’t be difficult,” he growled, steeling himself against his cravings, “when I’m trying to be unselfish.”

“I won’t blame you,” she replied, rubbing against his swelling erection, only the linen of his trousers and her skirt barricade to consummation. “I take full responsibility.”

He softly groaned.

“Let me just try this little toy. Please?” She’d take her pleasure where she could as per her carpe diem promise to herself. With Fitz tomorrows were uncertain.

“I’d rather not. I’m content just to hold you.” After the misery of his day, he was more than content, or maybe the contrast between Madame Rivera’s and Rosalind’s parlor was pleasure enough. “Or we could go out to dinner.”

“Or I could pout.”

He chuckled. “As you like to say to me, you can’t always have what you want.”

“You’re cruel. I had a perfect bill of health. Come, Fitz, give me either the Cellini or you. Consider, you’ve awakened my feverish desires. You can’t just ignore me. Please, please, be a dear…”

There wasn’t a man with a heartbeat who could have refused.

And his blood was coursing through more than his heart at the moment.

“I’m doing this against my better judgment,” he declared, rising to his feet with her in his arms and moving toward the bedroom.

“I love when you play the gallant,” she purred, raining kisses on his face and neck as they moved through the parlor, his benevolence only heightening her affection and desires. “I find it wildly provocative.”

He shot her a disgruntled look. “I find everything about you wildly provocative,” he grumbled. “And just for the record, I tried to say no.” A record in every sense of the word.

“How sweet.” She shivered, anticipating the intoxicating obverse of no, her vagina liquid with longing, well ahead of her in eagerness.

“I’m not going to be sweet for long,” he growled.

But his long was less precipitous than hers for once he deposited her on the bed she said, with a strong hint of her school mistress voice, “Do hurry, Fitz-please!”

It would have been better if his first thought wasn’t Now I know why she wrote erotica. Or if he wasn’t so personally involved, enamored, or stupid that he’d overruled his instincts and habits of a lifetime to come and see her again. Or if she hadn’t added in an imperious tone that set his teeth on edge, “Please, don’t play the dominating male right now.”

He was unfamiliar with women like Mrs. St. Vincent who were completely devoid of flattery and honeyed blandishments. But perhaps that was why she appealed to him, he more sensibly decided, tamping down his temper. There was no point in being disagreeable when she was flame hot and willing.

“Sorry, darling,” he smoothly replied, avoiding a contretemps that had nothing to do with her. She was visibly panting; only a fool would take offense at her ready passions.

“I’m sorry, too, really I am,” she whispered, aware of the brief flash of anger in his eyes. “I can wait.”