“And you?” he asked.
“Thirty. Grew up in Westchester. My parents were in the arts—mom was a choreographer, dad a theater professor. They died in a car accident when I was seventeen.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes on her, filled with compassion.
“It’s okay. I mean, it wasn’t okay. But it’s okay now. My brother delayed college for a year to watch out for me when they were gone. Then we went to school together at Yale. I live off Park Avenue in Murray Hill. I’ve never done any sports. I like to go shoe shopping with my friend Sutton. I love wine and scotch and theater.”
“And fucking to Ravel?” he asked in his deep, sexy tone, returning to his seductive side. The side that thrilled her.
“That’s not fair. Now you’re playing below the belt.”
“That’s where I’d like to be playing. So are we good then?” he asked, reaching for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers, as if he knew that contact would help win a yes.
“Jack,” she said, with a sigh.
“Why not?” he asked in the barest of whispers, then bent his head to her neck. “You’re beautiful, and captivating, and I loved every second of being inside you last night. The only thing better than fucking you was tasting you on my tongue this afternoon.”
If he was going to play dirty like that she was going to lose. Because with those words, a heat wave rolled through her body, and she was aching for his touch again.
“Let me have more of you,” he continued. “Let me have you for a month. Give me your body. I’ll give you mine.”
“I don’t know,” she said, but she could feel her resistance breaking down with his lips on her neck, buzzing a path to her ear. She lingered in the moment, considering. Was his plan so crazy?
“I haven’t been with anyone since Aubrey, and last night with you blew my mind. I could sit here and try to break it down, and try to analyze it and understand it, but I’m not a shrink. I’m only a man who wants a woman. I want you. Badly. Let me have you; let me give you the exquisite pleasure you deserve.”
She burned inside for him. Flames licked her body from head to toe, turning her into an inferno of desire. She’d come to dinner wanting only one more night; and now he was asking for thirty nights with him.
Thirty nights of pleasure. Thirty nights of bliss. Thirty nights of being wanted in ways she hadn’t ever been wanted.
She didn’t know how she could say no. She was about to say yes when he spoke again.
“Let me give you a taste of what I can do to you. If I don’t give you the best orgasm of your life within the next hour, I won’t ask again.”
She tossed her napkin on the table. She was dying to know how he planned to top this afternoon.
“Check, please.”
CHAPTER FIVE
After Hours
She expected they’d catch a cab to his place, that he’d own some swank high-rise apartment overlooking the park. But that’s not where he took her. They were in the elevator at the Met Life Tower, shooting up nearly fifty flights. He had a friend who owned the company that was converting the landmark skyscraper into a new hotel. The friend had called security, and security had waved them in.
Overlooking Madison Square Park, the building was eerie and shadowy at night, shrouded in secrets of the city after hours. She was about to become part of that after hours New York. When they reached the top floor, the elevator doors whooshed open.
Jack rested his hand on her lower back as they walked through the hall. The sizzling warmth from his palm spread through her body. Even the simplest touch from him melted her.
“You must think the Empire State Building is so passé, when you have a friend who owns this building,” she quipped as they neared the balcony.
“No. I’m thinking the balcony here is private, and you can see all of Manhattan when you come.”
She had no retort.
Hot sparks tore through her, lighting her up with more desire than she’d ever known. While she’d dated and had lovers over the years, none had spoken to her like this. None had talked to her as if her pleasure was vital to their happiness. That’s how she felt with Jack. Hard to imagine he was a stranger twenty-four hours ago, yet now, he was a lover on a quest to bring her the best climax of her life.
The balcony circled the peak of the Met Life Tower with a spire above them, a clock right below them. A high fence surrounded the perimeter, and the view of Manhattan was endless, stretching to the rivers and the towns that lay far beyond the city that never slept.
Michelle felt a rush of tingles in her belly that had nothing to do with him at the moment, and everything to do with being this high above her city. She wrapped her hands around the railing at the edge of the balcony, drinking in the view of Manhattan. The headlights from the distant streets below streaked across the dark night; the sounds of horns and music and madness morphed into a quiet radio station din. The dirt and grime was gone, and New York was aerial and beautiful—a darkly gorgeous nocturnal creature, lit up against the night sky.
Jack dropped his hands to her waist, his thumbs rubbing circles against the fabric of her dress at her hips. She murmured something unintelligible, leaning her head back against him, stretching her neck. But then he was gone—he was on his knees behind her, kissing the back of her bare legs, starting at her calves.
“Stay here. Like this,” he told her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she managed to say.