Chapter 13
Maybe I should have brought up the whole virginity thing a bit more tactfully. It just seemed like a good chance to get it out of the way, but now she’s sitting next to me with a flushed face and her knees clamped together. I’m keeping my hands to myself, of course. But she hasn’t told me to turn around and take her home, so I figure I’m still in there with a chance, at least.
Not to mention the spine-tingling memory of bringing her right to the edge on the way to Mrs. Scaravelli’s. She must be suffering from the female equivalent of blue balls almost as badly as I have for the past week. That’s got to work in my favor.
I’ve got it all set up at home. There’s champagne on ice waiting for us, and Chef Marcel is already in the kitchen, preparing hors d’oeuvres. My plan is that we have some drinks and take our time over dinner before retreating to the bedroom where I plan to slowly and gently make love to her before watching her fall asleep, sated, in my arms.
As we pull into the parking bay at my building, she sits up straighter. “Is this where you live?” She’s chewing her lip, still clearly nervous.
“It is.” I wait, not wanting to rush her.
After a moment or two of silence, she finally asks the question that’s been bothering her. “Is it because I’m a waitress that you don’t want to be seen with me? As everyone knows now.” She stares at her lap, chewing her lip.
“Oh no, no Crystal, that’s not it at all.” I brush her hair out of her face and then tilt her head up to look towards me. “Jazzmene is the one that put that story in the paper after she found out I went to the ball without her. I’m sorry about that, it didn’t occur to me. She’s apologized, if that helps at all. She won’t do it again.”
Crystal nods, but I know I haven’t answered my question. “I want to treat you to a special evening, and I don’t want the risk of anyone spoiling it. I chose my place because it was the only place where I could control all the variables.”
“Jazzmene said you never invited her to your penthouse.”
I’m taken by surprise before I remember that argument at the restaurant. “That’s true, I never did. I’ve never invited anyone, Crystal.” I can’t help swallowing hard before admitting the truth. “That’s because until you, there was no one I wanted there.”
She blinks, looks away. I’m not having that; I turn her face back towards mine. “Crystal, this is just dinner. You can leave whenever you want. But if you wanted to stay until morning, it would make me the happiest man in the universe.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond, because I’ve said everything there is to say, now. What’s left is actions. I walk around to her side of the car and open the door for her. She laughs at that and manages to get out of the car without falling this time. With her hand in mine, I swipe the key at the elevator to take us straight up to the penthouse. As I open the front door, the scent of roses wafts out. I watch Crystal for her reaction as we walk in.
She stares. There must be a hundred long-stemmed red roses spread around the sitting room. Every shelf and table has a vase on it. The black marble coffee table is covered with rose petals. Framing the doorway to the next room are two tall crystal vases, each with a dozen roses. Even I’m impressed, and I’m the one who ordered them.
“Wow, you must really love roses,” she said, looking around with wide eyes.
“Maddy told me that you did.”
“Sure, they’re beautiful.”
I expected more of a reaction if I’m honest. “I’m glad you think so.”
“How do you keep them alive? Or do you just change them every few days?”
“Crystal.” She thinks my living room always looks like this. “I did this for you.” Now it’s my turn to feel embarrassed.
“You did?”
“Well, I mean, I didn’t do it myself. I hired someone. But this isn’t what the penthouse normally looks like.” I pause. “But it could do. If you like it.”
“Like it! It’s magnificent!” Her eyes widen even further, and a smile finally appears. “You did all this for me?”
“Maddy told me you loved long-stemmed roses.”
“Maddy talks too much,” she grumbles.
But she’s still smiling as I take her hand and lead her through to the dining room. There’s only one bouquet of roses here in the center of the large oak table, but it has the right effect. My dining room is pretty ostentatious with ten carved wooden chairs around the table and a floor-to-ceiling oak liquor cabinet. I can count the number of meals I’ve eaten here on one hand, but tonight I’m glad for it. At the doorway leading to the hallway are another two long-stemmed roses in crystal vases. Beyond them, the white carpet of the corridor has a trail of rose petals leading to a doorway at the end of the hall.
“Um.” She looks down the corridor. “I guess that’s your bedroom?”
I grin. She knows me too well. “Yes, it is.”
Her face flushes. “This is beautiful and overwhelming, and I don’t know what to say,” she whispers. She’s still holding my hand, and I take that as a very good sign.
“Good.” I pull her to me. “Don’t say anything.”
I kiss her. Her mouth is warm and welcoming as she parts her lips to welcome my exploring tongue. Her soft breasts press against my hard chest, and I know she can feel my hard-on straining against my suit. My hands drop to her beautiful ass, pulling her harder against it. She writhes against me, a low moan gathering in her throat. With that sound, all my plans of a quiet evening of drinks and conversation fly out the window. I want this woman, and I need her, and there’s not a chance I can wait another moment. I break off the kiss. The hungry look in her eyes tells me the same story. I take her hand and lead her out of the dining room.
“Dinner can wait,” I tell her. We’ll skip the goddamn hors d’oeuvres.
I’d rather have her taste on my lips. This is going to be a night to remember, for both of us.
As we reach the corridor, she hesitates, her eyes downcast. I want her to have no reservations, not a single one, so even though I can hardly breath for longing, I stop. She looks up at me, and I can’t stop myself from touching her face, her hair. But I need her to be sure. “Tell me what you are thinking.” My voice is hoarse with longing. “I want this to be perfect, but if this is not what you want…”
She blushes again and stammers. “It’s not that. I want that.” Her little throat swallows prettily, but her eyes still smolder with desire.
I have never wanted anyone as badly as I want her right now. If there’s any chance at all of having her sprawled on my bed screaming my name, I need to make that happen. I take a deep breath, willing myself to be patient. “But?”
“I’m just worried about the rose petals staining your pretty white carpet if I walk on them. I’ll ruin everything.”
I burst into laughter, a combination of amusement and relief. She’s unbelievable. “I’ll replace the damn carpet if I have to.” I pick her up like she’s my pretty bride and carry her to my door. Her hands come around my neck as I maneuver the door open. I carry her over the threshold and to the bed, candles flickering all around us. It’s even more perfect than I had hoped for. I kneel at the foot of the bed and gently place her onto it.
“Knox.” The flames of the candles are reflected in her eyes. It looks magical. She is magical.
“Yes? Tell me what you want.”
“I want this. I want you. I need you.”
I’m reluctant to let her go even long enough to close the bedroom door shut, but when I turn back, she’s still there, looking luscious sprawled on my bed, the flickering light bathing her in golden shades.
“That’s not a bad start,” I tell her. Then I pull her to her feet, smiling at the confusion in her face. “But we have plenty of time. When I told you that first night that you would beg for more, I meant it. Tell me again how much you want me.” I want to be sure.
She laughs, a bit startled, and then tiptoes up to whisper in my ear. “I want you to make love to me, Knox Lockwood. I want you to take me slow and fast and soft and hard, and then I want you to start all over again.”
It’s a miracle I don’t come right there on the spot, just at the feel of her soft breath on my ear. Slow and soft might well be the ultimate challenge, but luckily, I have all night.