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Things heat up between Conor and Marie, but he’s still thinking about Charisse.
Conor’s driver opened the door for Marie, allowing Conor to admire the way her skirt hitched up her ass as she climbed into his sedan. It’d been too long since he’d sought the pleasures of a woman’s body. He pictured her waiting for him on her hands and knees, and he’d get right to it. And then they could take it slowly the second time.
“Take us to my apartment,” he said to the driver.
But when he entered the car, she’d slid across the seat to make room for him. One leg was crossed over the other, and her hands were clasped over her knee. Now she was playing coy? At least the privacy glass was already up.
He sat next to her and put his hand on top of hers, too drunk not to touch her in some way. She’d pulled her straight black hair so it fell over one shoulder, making an elegant frame for her lovely triangular face. He wasn’t sure what scent she wore, but it smelled like lust and fulfillment all at once.
“You were amazing at the party.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head.
Undeterred, he pressed his lips softly against her cheek, working his way down to below her ear. The car pulled out into traffic, making her lean towards him, but she pulled back right away.
“Why did you come to Ma Charisse today?” she asked.
He moaned. She’d been plying him with liquor to ask him questions instead of to get him into bed. He inched away and tried to force himself to be sober or at least semi-coherent.
“Why were you at Ma Charisse today? It’s not exactly a place aimed at billionaire playboys.”
He yanked his hand off hers. He shouldn’t have let her pour that last shot down his throat. “I’m not a fucking playboy.”
She turned so she was fully facing him. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. It just doesn’t seem like a place you’d go.”
His head spun through responses. He wasn’t so drunk that he’d blurt out that he went to meet her sister, but he was close. “Your dad lost some ships at sea. He owes me.” Always good to stick to the truth.
“So what does my sister’s salon have to do with that?”
If he was sober he’d be able to tell what she was after. Did she know her father whored her out? He’d been having fun with her and hadn’t considered what Roy would say after the date. Would Roy call the deal done?
He slid further away from her. “Your father offered the building your sister works in as compensation for the loss.”
It was gratifying to watch Marie’s face switch from scrutinizing to confused. Maybe they were on equal footing now.
“The building?” she asked.
She must know Roy didn’t own the building.
“He said while I was there checking it out that I should get a haircut from your sister.”
Marie’s eyes narrowed. “And me? Did he tell you to meet me there?”
Conor sighed and leaned back against the seat with his arms at his sides. He wasn’t going to say anything about what Roy offered. And Roy hadn’t told him Marie would be there. “No. Look I know I was a prick at the salon, but I thought we were having a great time at the party. But if I’m wrong, I’ll take you home.”
To answer his question, she swung her leg over his lap. She straddled him, pressing down on his crotch just as he’d imagined at the party. They kissed hungrily like there’d been no interruption between the time on the couch and now.
He placed his hands on her thighs, ran them up beneath her skirt and grabbed her hips with his fingers wrapping around to her ass. As he pressed her down, he pushed up into her, wishing she’d already unzipped his pants.
She released his mouth and arched back. Her fingers ran through his hair like Charisse’s had when she’d shampooed him. His mind drifted back to the moment on the chair at the sink when Charisse had stripped away all his barriers and left him feeling vulnerable and yet more alive than he had felt in three years.
Marie ground into him, but her fingers remained in his hair, keeping his mind back in the salon.
“God Charisse, your hands are like magic.”
And then the hands vanished until one smacked him right across the face.
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