Read Online Seduce Me Tonight by Kristina Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristina Wright
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that I had chosen the sheer blouse and forgone a bra for just that reason. He already knew. ‘Thank you, Christopher,’ I murmured, pulling away and reaching for the glass of wine on the table. ‘Do you want some wine?’
‘Of course.’
I felt like the exhausted prey at the end of a long cat-and-mouse chase. Except the evening had only begun. My hand trembled slightly and the wine sloshed up the side of the glass as I handed it to him.
I watched him while he drank his wine. He wasn’t a handsome man, not in the conventional sense. He was tall enough that he attracted attention wherever we went, but his face was angular, his nose prominent, and his often serious expression rendered him harsh and hawk-like. But he had the lean body of a runner and everything about him suggested movement even when he sat still. Watching his long tapered fingers manipulate the stem of the wine glass made me shiver. He was energy and power in one tightly controlled package and I longed to be the one to snap his control and experience that energy and power in its purest form. Or so I fantasised.
His gaze never left my face as he pressed the glass to my lips. ‘Have a sip, love.’
I drank and his cool fingertips stroked my throat as I swallowed. It was an oddly intimate sensation and I fought to control my throat muscles. Then he poured too quickly and I couldn’t swallow it all. The wine trickled from the corner of my mouth and I reached for it, but he quickly caught the drop of crimson on his fingertip. He stared through me with his ice-blue gaze as he sucked the liquid from his finger. I shivered. I knew that look and what it promised.
‘Come,’ he said, taking my hand and leading me towards the bedroom. The word was more than a command, it was a prophecy of the evening ahead of us.
I followed him down the short hall.
Standing in front of me in the doorway, he sighed. ‘It’s ridiculous to become attached to a piece of furniture, but I really do love this bed.’
The bed had belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. It was too big for a cramped one-bedroom apartment, taking up most of the floor and giving me mere inches of space all the way around, but it was a small sacrifice to make and I made it willingly. I loved the bed and everything it represented – peaceful slumber, a respite from reality, uninhibited passion. It was adorned with white sheets and a white down comforter and a dozen pillows in white and beige, all on top of a ridiculously thick pillow-top mattress. All of that white offset the ornate bronze frame that gleamed in the light of the dozen or so candles I’d lit before he arrived. I felt like a princess in that bed, but there was nothing virginal and innocent about it. It was the essence of seduction and I was the wicked princess filled with carnal desires. And that made Christopher my handsome prince, right? Or was he the evil sorcerer, intent on enslaving me, body and soul? The latter seemed more accurate.
He pulled me towards the bed and reached for the buttons of my gauzy blouse. He peeled the cloth away slowly, kissing my exposed skin here and there as he went. I felt like I was shedding the skin that the rest of the world saw and revealing my true self for him only.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he murmured.
His confession left me breathless.
I was his graduate assistant and saw him three days a week at the university, but I knew what he meant.
‘I missed you, too,’ I breathed against his mouth as his hard, warm lips slid against mine. I caught my breath as he moved down the hollow of my throat. ‘I – I love you.’
He pressed his cool fingertips against my lips. ‘Shh. Get on the bed now.’
He helped me climb onto the tall bed and I knelt before him, wearing only a pair of faded denim jeans, the knees torn out and worn spots on the insides of my thighs. He stood in front of me, stroking the swell of my breasts until my skin dimpled with gooseflesh.
‘I love your breasts,
‘Of course.’
I felt like the exhausted prey at the end of a long cat-and-mouse chase. Except the evening had only begun. My hand trembled slightly and the wine sloshed up the side of the glass as I handed it to him.
I watched him while he drank his wine. He wasn’t a handsome man, not in the conventional sense. He was tall enough that he attracted attention wherever we went, but his face was angular, his nose prominent, and his often serious expression rendered him harsh and hawk-like. But he had the lean body of a runner and everything about him suggested movement even when he sat still. Watching his long tapered fingers manipulate the stem of the wine glass made me shiver. He was energy and power in one tightly controlled package and I longed to be the one to snap his control and experience that energy and power in its purest form. Or so I fantasised.
His gaze never left my face as he pressed the glass to my lips. ‘Have a sip, love.’
I drank and his cool fingertips stroked my throat as I swallowed. It was an oddly intimate sensation and I fought to control my throat muscles. Then he poured too quickly and I couldn’t swallow it all. The wine trickled from the corner of my mouth and I reached for it, but he quickly caught the drop of crimson on his fingertip. He stared through me with his ice-blue gaze as he sucked the liquid from his finger. I shivered. I knew that look and what it promised.
‘Come,’ he said, taking my hand and leading me towards the bedroom. The word was more than a command, it was a prophecy of the evening ahead of us.
I followed him down the short hall.
Standing in front of me in the doorway, he sighed. ‘It’s ridiculous to become attached to a piece of furniture, but I really do love this bed.’
The bed had belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. It was too big for a cramped one-bedroom apartment, taking up most of the floor and giving me mere inches of space all the way around, but it was a small sacrifice to make and I made it willingly. I loved the bed and everything it represented – peaceful slumber, a respite from reality, uninhibited passion. It was adorned with white sheets and a white down comforter and a dozen pillows in white and beige, all on top of a ridiculously thick pillow-top mattress. All of that white offset the ornate bronze frame that gleamed in the light of the dozen or so candles I’d lit before he arrived. I felt like a princess in that bed, but there was nothing virginal and innocent about it. It was the essence of seduction and I was the wicked princess filled with carnal desires. And that made Christopher my handsome prince, right? Or was he the evil sorcerer, intent on enslaving me, body and soul? The latter seemed more accurate.
He pulled me towards the bed and reached for the buttons of my gauzy blouse. He peeled the cloth away slowly, kissing my exposed skin here and there as he went. I felt like I was shedding the skin that the rest of the world saw and revealing my true self for him only.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he murmured.
His confession left me breathless.
I was his graduate assistant and saw him three days a week at the university, but I knew what he meant.
‘I missed you, too,’ I breathed against his mouth as his hard, warm lips slid against mine. I caught my breath as he moved down the hollow of my throat. ‘I – I love you.’
He pressed his cool fingertips against my lips. ‘Shh. Get on the bed now.’
He helped me climb onto the tall bed and I knelt before him, wearing only a pair of faded denim jeans, the knees torn out and worn spots on the insides of my thighs. He stood in front of me, stroking the swell of my breasts until my skin dimpled with gooseflesh.
‘I love your breasts,
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