I stood in his colossal bedroom. The bed had short wooden posts at each corner and white silky sheets—nothing else. Given the warmth of the night, and the heat of my flushed body, no other bedding was required.
The rest of the room with its cushioned cream carpet and plain sapphire walls was sparsely furnished. A spotlessly clean and frugal space. Even with the presence of the vast bed, the piece of furniture failed to fill the substantial floor space. In the middle of the room I waited, fidgeting.
Fiddling with the seam of my evening dress with trembling fingers, I sneaked a glance through the bay window to the moonlit garden below. Outside was tranquil and a stark contrast to the storm of energy raging throughout my body.
He strolled towards me with a quirky smile on his face. Halting within arm’s reach, he helped me with the side zipper. “You’re sure about this?” he asked gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m fine—excited. It’s been a few months since I last, you know, did this,” I murmured as he pulled my dress down past my pink bra. He shifted closer and the thought of him lying on top of me, entering me, almost proved overpowering.
Let him be every bit as stunning in bed as he is handsome, please.
“It’s going to be good, Gemma, real good.” A husky tone, not honeyed; it reassured.
Too eager to speak, I nodded in agreement and managed to avoid those penetrating blue eyes of his, which were just too mesmerising. Having dealt with the zipper, he grasped the dress with vigour and tugged the straps off my arms. The rest of it slithered down past my ankles. Seconds later, he’d guided me onto the edge of the bed and I perched there while he knelt to take off my shoes. Breathless with anticipation, I allowed him unhindered access as he stripped me. He left my underwear alone and started to undress himself. Tossing the gold cuff-links and bow-tie onto the bedside table, he slipped out of his shirt and trousers. He wore the sexiest underpants I’d seen in a long time—they hugged the lowest part of his hips.
“Do I need condoms?”
“No, I’m on the pill. Just, in case, you know.” I grinned, masking the lie. I’d been on the pill for years. Sex, back then in my tarnished past, had been my chief craving, until I met those special men and one after another, they eked out my true desires. They taught me things, played their games until one hurt me, and not in a good way—not the kind of pain I sought out. My smile stayed, held in place by frequent practise.
“Any other reason why I should need one?” he probed.
I was familiar with the status of my health. “God, no, I’m clean,” I returned his gaze and dug out my confidence from its hiding place. “What about you?”
“I’m good, babe, don’t worry,” he reassured. I believed him—his calm expression exuded trustworthiness.
Why, oh why, had I failed to spot signs of deceitfulness in another? I must have been a walkover, an easy target for him. Not tonight, though. There was no way unnecessary memories were going to ruin the evening. I blanked them out.
I lay back on the bed and briefly shut my eyes. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime of being on hold—sex! And, this man was no ordinary everyday bloke. The man reaching down, brandishing his heavenly attributes, his fingers poised to touch, was Jason Lucas—yes fucking yes!