“Katie,” he gasped.
“My name is Veronique,” she whispered in a seductive French accent. “And I do not need to know yours.”
He felt the blood leave his head and rush pell-mell to deliver massive doses of testosterone to his groin.
“What do you need, Veronique?” he found himself asking her huskily.
“I need adventure.”
“What kind of adventure?’
“Forbidden adventure,” she murmured.
Excitement trembled his hand. The scent of her invaded his nostrils. Her daring spirit clipped him hard. His muscles clenched. The tension was almost more than he could tolerate.
His eyes met hers.
In the darkness, in the heat of the moment, the black of her pupils grew so large they almost encompassed the azure blue of her irises. Was it his imagination, or were her lips trembling as much as his hands?
Foolish as it might be, he had to have her.
Liam realized how very little he knew about her, beyond the fact that she was one of those Winfields. The thought served to send his desire soaring.
He’d never experienced excitement like this. Not in the boardroom, not when making a fabulous deal on a piece of renovated property, not being named Young Bostonian’s bachelor of the year. The closest he had ever come to this sensation was when he drove his Lamborghini over the speed limit.
What a helluva ride.
A sense of rash abandon shoved him headfirst into decadence. It was not an emotion he was familiar with. Liam was normally an expert at delayed gratification. But not today. Not with this amazing woman. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget her.
With one slender, well-manicured finger, she raked her nail along his jawline.
Liam stifled a groan. Who knew a gentle scratch would feel so erotic? Katie’s stroking brought a whole new element of awareness into play as he imagined those sweet fingers investigating other, more vulnerable areas of his body.
Her bold self-confidence inflamed him. She was a complex and complicated woman and he wanted to know everything about her. His hungry curiosity almost sent him over the brink of reason.
What did she have up her sleeve?
She’d started this seduction, this exotic tease, but damn if he wasn’t committed to finishing it.
On the screen in front of them, Clark Gable flirted with Claudette Colbert, but Liam didn’t notice. He had eyes for only one woman.
In the muted glow from the light of the projector, he studied Katie. She sent him a look that jammed his libido into hyperdrive, slowly licked her lips, and then leaned over the arm of her chair to lightly run that naughty tongue over his lips.
Blood, fiery and indolent, pooled in his groin. Every nerved ending leaped as electrical impulses shot through the circuitry of his brain.
The lovely Veronique tasted of licorice jelly beans and lusty woman. Their tongues tangoed. First she was the leader, muddling his senses, but then he took over, giving as good as he’d gotten. Making her mewl with escalating pleasure.
He was back in control.
Or at least he thought he was until she broke the kiss, pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, “I’m not wearing panties.”
Sweat slicked his brow, his chest, his thigh, and the pounding between his thighs intensified. His cock was damned stiff and sensitive, thrusting against the zipper of his slacks.
Shamelessly, she pressed her bosom against his arm and kissed him again, her mouth gobbling up his as if she knew every single outlaw fantasy that crossed his mind.
He brushed his hand against her breast and lightly pinched the nipple straining against the soft material. Her flesh beaded as hard as a pebble beneath his touch.
She sucked in her breath with a sex-fueled hiss. “Oh, yeah.”
“That’s it,” he murmured, proud of his masculine prowess. “Tell me what you like.”
“I want your cock.” She slipped her hand down the front of his shirt to his waistband. Boldly, she eased down his zipper and reached inside.
It was his turn to hiss in his breath.
She nibbled his neck while her hand stroked his rock-hard flesh with a teasing caress. On screen, Clark was stringing up a blanket to separate him from Claudette.
Knowing that they were making out in the balcony of a movie theatre, that any minute an usher could walk in and find them, was beyond exhilarating. It was forbidden, yes, but that’s what made it so awesome.
Liam felt the pulse in her wrist leap hard and fast against the head of his penis and Liam knew Katie was just as turned on as he was.
“I want you,” he growled. “Now.”
“Wait,” she said huskily.
He felt her fumble around in the darkness, heard the sound of something being unwrapped. Condom, he thought, and then she was rolling the rubber on his burgeoning cock.
She straddled the arms of the chair he was sitting in, wrapped her hands around his neck and slowly eased herself down on the length of him. Instinctively, his hands went to span her waist, holding her in place and letting out his breath on a long, controlled exhale.
Her wet moistness engulfed him and he was inside her. “Ride me.” His voice was gravel.
“My pleasure.” She rode him hard and fast until they were soaring together, mindless of the noise they were making. Beyond caring who could hear.
Liam was so crazy with desire for her he couldn’t stop himself. He had to do this. There was no other way out.
Their joining was quick and urgent and very, very dangerous. Everything was borderless, open. They rolled into infinity, and every blissful inch felt right and good and true. Liam couldn’t distinguish who was inside whom. They were both inside, occupying the bones, skin, muscles, cells. Together, they spun.
The tasty expanse of their union multiplied, swelling beyond comprehension. A harmonious, voiceless galaxy whirling quicker than the speed of sound.
Past thinking, with no coherent thought in his head, he was nothing but cock and ass and balls.
Alive with sensation.
Relentlessly, Katie rocked into him. He was aching, gushing, throbbing. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from letting loose with a primal cry. To keep from begging for release from this glorious torture. From the rapture he could almost touch.
Tingling. Humming. Rushing.
Soon. Please, please let it be soon. It had better be or he’d implode.
And then, just like that, it was upon him.
Liam tumbled. Jerking and trembling into the abyss, hurtling. Lost. Enveloped by the chasm. The earth, the sky, the air, the ocean exploded in a ball of white-hot come.
He blinked, befuddled.
Katie collapsed. Sank her head against his.
He wrapped his arms around her and they sat there, sweating, shuddering, panting for breath.
The urgency was gone. His cock emptied. But his mind was one speeding thought after another. Adrift in a darkened world of squeaky theatre seats, red velvet curtains and the smell of buttered popcorn.
They had traveled so far together, had shared such a forbidden intimacy that when they settled back into their separate selves, a fierce melancholy fell over him.
Their lovemaking had been so remarkable that Liam did not know what to do now.
They did not know each other. Not really. They possessed no common ground. No shared history or background in which to salvage their separateness. In the confines of the old theatre, with Clark kissing Claudette on screen, they navigated unknown terrain.
Then, before he could make a move, Katie decided for him. She rose up from his lap, slipped from his grasp. “Give me a two-minute start before you follow.”
Then she was gone.
Several minutes later, as Liam left the theatre on legs so shaky he was amazed he could walk, he realized that this movie would always be branded in his brain as It Happened One Forbidden Afternoon.
LIAM WAS SITTING in his office, scrunched down in his chair, staring out the window when a soft knock sounded and his door opened a crack.
“Liam?”
“Huh?” Liam jerked upright and blinked at his secretary Vanessa Gomez. She studied him with a look of motherly concern. “What is it?”