Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 32

Recrossing her right leg over the left, she leaned toward Ethan ever so casually, and then slipped her foot under his pant leg, moving it upward.

"Have you decided on a name for the baby yet?" she asked Lucy and Peter, ignoring-but quite enjoying-the soft strangling sound that came from Ethan's direction.

They chatted for a few minutes while Lucy listed a handful of baby names, and then started arguing with Peter over Emily versus Emma and Adam versus Ian.

Gwen had just worked the hem of Ethan's trousers up a few inches and begun flexing her toes into the tender flesh behind his knee when he sc.r.a.ped his fork across his plate several times, devouring the last of his baked Alaska in two ravenous bites.

"That was great," he announced, slapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously. "Thanks so much for coming tonight, guys. Hope we can do it again real soon."

Peter and Lucy stared at him, dumbfounded. Their utensils were raised halfway to their mouths, with several bites of dessert remaining on both of their plates.

"Excuse me?" Peter asked, clearly confused. "You begged us to have dinner with you, and now you're asking us to leave?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I don't mean to be rude, but-"

He paused a second as his eyes went wide, apparently trying to flash his friends some sort of signal.

Get. Out.

Long seconds ticked past while the four people at the table remained dead silent.

Gwen didn't know what to do. Should she step in and apologize for Ethan's boorish behavior? Or keep her mouth shut and let him deal with his friends on his own?

Finally a knowing smile crossed Lucy's face and she placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Come on, Peter, it's time to go."

"What?" His fork clanked against his plate as it fell from his grip.

"Come on," Lucy said, pus.h.i.+ng her chair back and then pus.h.i.+ng somewhat awkwardly to her feet. "I think what Ethan is trying to say, in his less-than-gentlemanly way, is that he and Gwen would like to be alone."

Peter glanced at Ethan and then threw his napkin down on the table in disgust. "Oh, honestly."

He stood, then began to escort his wife to the door.

"Sorry," Ethan called out as the couple's footsteps clicked a staccato rhythm toward the front entrance of the club. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Gwen heard Peter grumble something unintelligible just before the door clicked closed behind them.

She took a deep breath and swallowed, trying to find her voice.

"That wasn't very nice," she chastised. "You didn't need to run them off like that. Or at the very least, you could have walked them to the door."

"Yes, I did," he said simply.

And then he reached out, snagged the leg of her chair, and dragged her none too gently to his side.

"And, no, I couldn't." Taking her hand, he placed it palm down atop his raging erection.

"Can you imagine the reaction I would have gotten if I'd stood up and flashed this? It looks like I'm pitching a tent here."

It did, indeed, look as though he was trying to turn his trousers into a makes.h.i.+ft fort.

"Should I not have teased you the way you were teasing me?" she ventured boldly.

"Oh, you should have," he said in a low rumble. "Just maybe not until after dessert."

"You started it."

Why was her breath coming in shallow little pants? she wondered. And why did her voice have that thin, shuddery quality to it?

"And I intend to finish it. Come here."

Before she could blink, he'd hauled her off her own chair and draped her across his lap, facing him. The stiff prod of his member pressed against the side of her thigh as his arms wrapped about her waist and he tugged her close enough for their mouths to meet.

His lips devoured her, his tongue licking, flicking, diving inside to stroke her own. Excitement bubbled in her belly as his hands moved up and down her spine.

She would be the first to admit she was far from experienced in the act of lovemaking, but she couldn't help thinking that even if she'd been with a hundred other men, she never would have felt the things she was feeling now, with this man.

Her fingers threaded through his dark hair, holding his mouth in place. His warm, strong hand slid over the bare expanse of her chest, and along the curve of a breast. The heat from his fingers burned through the material of her dress, searing her like a brand. His thumb rubbed back and forth along the crest of her breast, driving her crazy, and she moaned at the gut-wrenching need that trickled its way between her legs.

Somewhere behind them, she thought she heard a noise, but the sensations was.h.i.+ng through her body overrode anything else. The club could have been crowded with people, all watching their erotic display, and she wouldn't have cared.

But Ethan apparently did. With a reluctant groan, he pulled away, smoothing a hand over her hair as he stared at her puffy, well-loved lips.

He lifted a thumb, running the soft pad along the lower line of her mouth. "We have an audience," he said in low tones.

She glanced over her shoulder to see one of the catering staff standing several feet away, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

It crossed her mind that she should be embarra.s.sed at being caught in such a shameless situation. She should at least move from Ethan's lap.

But her limbs felt like bags of sand, weighted down by ocean waves, and a slow, delectable warmth was flowing through her veins like brandy on a cold winter's night, making her entirely too complacent.

"For what I want to do next," Ethan murmured near her ear, "we should really be alone. Let's get out of here."

In one liquid motion, Ethan pushed back his chair and stood, setting her on her feet. She wobbled on the one red satin three-inch heel that remained on her foot, her legs feeling like noodles beneath her.

Sensing her loss of equilibrium, Ethan hooked an arm about her waist, picked up her earlier discarded shoe and slipped it on her foot. Then he grabbed her tiny beaded clutch from the table and all but lifted her off the ground as he whisked her toward the rear door.

"We're leaving now," he told the waiter as they pa.s.sed him. "Stay as long as you need to clean up, and make sure you lock the doors on your way out."

Eyes wide, the young man nodded. And then they were stalking toward the back of the club, out the rear entrance, to Ethan's car, which glinted silver in the single, bright safety light s.h.i.+ning over the parking area.

Unlocking the car with the remote control on his key chain, Ethan opened the pa.s.senger side door and practically shoved her inside. A second later he climbed behind the wheel and cranked the key in the ignition.

"My place or yours?" he asked.

For a second she considered letting him take her back to her apartment so he could see the way she lived, see all the signs of the person she really was. But what if he didn't like what he saw and it scared him away?

Oh, she knew there could never be anything permanent between them. Tonight, in fact, would probably be their last night together. The last time she ever saw or heard from him. And as painful as it might be, she could live with that.

She suspected, though, that she was in love with him...had been at least a little in love with him from the moment they met.

But she'd also known from the moment they met that nothing could ever come of a relations.h.i.+p based on lies. She knew who she was and who Ethan was. But he didn't know her. She knew what she wanted and what Ethan wanted, and those desires had them heading in opposite directions.

"Yours," she answered, pus.h.i.+ng aside the panic that threatened to ruin an otherwise wonderful-and soon to be spectacular-evening.

She would spend one more night with Ethan. One more night in his arms, making love until neither of them could stand.

A s.h.i.+ver stole through her at the very thought.

Chances were, she'd love him forever...pine for him always...and fail to ever meet another man who lived up to Ethan's image in her mind. Without warning, he'd wormed his way into her heart and taken up residence in a tiny corner of her very soul.

So she would take everything he was willing to give, as much as she could get, and tuck it away in the back of her memory to help her through the next twenty or thirty years.

And then she would die alone...but with a smile on her face because she'd once known the touch of a funny, handsome, amazing man by the name of Ethan Banks.

He broke about fifteen traffic laws on the short drive across town to his apartment, wanting nothing more than to get there and get Gwen into bed. h.e.l.l, as stiff as he was right now, they'd be lucky to get the front door closed and make it down to the floor.

An image of her with that hot, red dress hiked up to her waist, back pressed to the wall while he drove into her again and again, entered his mind, and his entire body shuddered.

She made him crazy.

Crazy enough to run his friends off before they'd even finished eating their dinners. To make out like a h.o.r.n.y teenager in front of the gaping catering staff. To risk life and limb just to get her home and naked-or maybe not so naked-beneath him.

Tires squealed on pavement as he angled his Lexus into a parking s.p.a.ce behind his building, braked a mere few inches from the brick wall and cut the engine.

He was out of the car and on the pa.s.senger side within seconds. Yanking open the door, he grabbed Gwen's hand and tugged her from the seat, dragging her behind him as he made a mad dash for the front doors of his apartment building.

Her shoes scuffed on the ground as she scurried to keep up, and when he glanced back at her, she was laughing. Head thrown back, chestnut curls bobbing around her face, she looked happier than he'd ever seen her...and s.e.xy enough to be one of those Victoria's Secret runway models.

d.a.m.n.

He stopped in his tracks, turning toward her and grabbing her up as she collided with his chest. Her amus.e.m.e.nt was infectious. Burying his nose in her hair, he chuckled right along with her.

"What's so funny?" he asked. Her hair smelled of strawberries and cream, which only made him want to gulp her down faster.

"You. This. Us."

She drew away slightly, until he was staring into her coffee brown eyes, sparkling with excitement under the dull yellow streetlights.

"What about 'you, this, us'?"

"It's exciting and wild," she told him. "I love that you're in such a hurry to get upstairs. Though my feet might not thank you for it in the morning."

Running his fingers through her long, loose hair, he dropped his gaze to her red satin slippers. "I'll make sure your feet aren't sore from running in those heels. I'll rub your insteps and lick your toes."

She giggled again. Pressed so close, the lithe line of her body rubbed intimately against his throbbing length.

"After," he breathed with a groan, pressing back, letting her know exactly how aroused he was. "I'll give you a full foot ma.s.sage, I promise. But afterward, okay?"

With a tiny smile gracing her lips, she brushed her nose back and forth along his stubbled cheek. "Okay."

A rush of relief washed over him and he quickly turned around to lead her inside the building. He steered her ahead of him across the carpeted lobby, his hands on her trim waist, his feet shuffling along on the outside of hers while he snuggled close and nuzzled the tender spot just behind her ear.

When the elevator doors slid open, to reveal an empty car, he antic.i.p.ated the private ride up to his apartment, free to kiss and caress Gwen to his heart's content.

And until the second floor, he did.

The bell dinged, alerting them that the doors were about to open. Tearing his mouth from Gwen's, he glanced up at the lighted panel and saw that they were stopping well before his floor.

"Dammit," he gritted out.

Gwen licked her lips, looking dazed and malleable, just the way he liked her. "What?"

Before he could answer, the doors whispered open and an older gentleman in a tweed jacket stepped into the car. He flashed them both a brief smile and then turned to face the front of the car. Gwen s.h.i.+fted in front of Ethan until she was facing the same direction.

This was the trouble with apartment buildings, Ethan thought. Residents learned early on that it was often easier to ride up with someone else before awaiting the elevator's return trip to the lobby.

But even though they were no longer alone, that didn't mean Ethan couldn't continue to have fun without their uninvited guest being any the wiser.

As they floated silently higher, he buried his nose in the silky strands of hair at the back of Gwen's head and inhaled deeply. The fruity fragrance teased his nostrils and made him hungry for something other than food.

He moved his fingertips down over her hips, to the hem of her skirt, then slipped his hands beneath. She wiggled nervously in an attempt to dislodge his hands. Holding fast, he continued to explore, drawing the material of her dress upward as he straightened.

He had to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from moaning aloud when he discovered the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings with his roaming fingers. Dipping his head, he bit the tip of her ear to show her how turned on she made him, and then he tugged her shapely f.a.n.n.y tighter against his screaming erection so there could be no doubt.

If there wasn't another person riding upstairs with them, he'd have punched the hold b.u.t.ton and taken her right there on the elevator floor.

The next time the tiny interior bell sounded, Ethan looked up to see the number for his floor glowing orange.

"Thank G.o.d," he murmured just above Gwen's ear.

The doors opened and he hustled her around the gray-haired man into the hallway. Ethan was already halfway to his apartment digging in his pocket for his keys, when the elevator closed behind them.

As they reached his door, Gwen moved in front of it, leaning back against the painted panel.

"That was interesting," she said with a small smirk. "I admire your restraint."

"Me, too," he muttered.

Honestly, he didn't know how he'd managed to keep from flying apart this long. The keys rattled in his hand, and he was having a h.e.l.l of a time getting the right one into the lock.

"You didn't tell me you were wearing thigh-highs," he murmured distractedly.

"You didn't ask."

"From now on, consider it a given. I want to know what kind of lingerie you're wearing twenty-four hours a day."

She laughed, the movement causing her pet.i.te b.r.e.a.s.t.s to jiggle right before his eyes. "Even if I'm wearing granny panties?"