Yours to Savor (29 page)

Chapter Eighteen

By the time Sandra felt calm enough to return to the box, the second half of the show had already started. She quietly lowered herself into the seat by Brandon, careful not to disturb the people in the adjacent box.

Brandon gave no indication that anything had transpired between them in the intermission. He touched her hand in greeting, and that was all. His attention was devoted to the dancers below them, as was Clarisse’s.

For that, Sandra was glad. She’d enjoyed
Moonshadows
so far, and was very ready to absorb the beautiful music and dancing again.

Not five minutes later, she felt Brandon’s hand travelling up her leg. A pulse of pure lust shot through her middle, but she forced it down. “What are you doing?” she hissed, pushing him away.

Brandon, however, seemed not to have heard. He was entirely transfixed by the performance. Not a single muscle on his face betrayed what his hand intended. He left it on her knee for now, but the make out session in the restroom,
plus
the sensation of his strong, sure fingers on her skin made her insides throb with anticipation.

Sandra was scared Brandon might feel the heat emanating from her core. She pressed her legs together so he wouldn’t mistake her resolve. She tried very hard to focus on the dancers below her. The stage had been transformed into a river so real it looked as if the performers were standing on water. The lead ballerina had her arms spread wide and was being lifted by the male lead, until he held her split-legged above his head. She clasped her ankles around his neck and leaned back, planking off his chest as he spun her round and round. There was something very sensual about the way their bodies flowed together, something very subtle. It was undeniably erotic. With Brandon’s hand still on her knee, Sandra’s libido shot into overdrive.

As if he’d read her mind, Brandon moved his hand up her leg again. Sandra squirmed and tried to push him away. The man was absolutely mad! She knew she could not let him past the defenses of her hands. If he had any idea how moist her panties were from his lingering touch, she’d be completely helpless to resist him.

Sandra tried to look over and attract his attention, but Brandon stared straight ahead, singularly focused on the performance. Sandra began to twist away, but Brandon’s hand caught her thigh in an iron grip. She couldn’t move so much as an inch.

Her breaths quickened. Conflicting emotions raged through her mind. Anxiety and worry were at the forefront, of course. But, beneath them, born of some repressed part of Sandra’s psyche, there was an undeniable current of
need.
Almost as if she
wanted
Brandon to keep pushing.

Sandra became uncomfortably aware of Clarisse’s nearness. She sneaked a peak past Brandon, and saw that his assistant was focused completely on the ballet. Sandra looked past her, to the people in the boxes on the other side. There were men in dark suits and women in dignified dresses, all looking down at the stage. In front of her, not ten feet away, the first rows of the main seating housed a sea of dark bodies. There were so many people. There were so many eyes. If just one pair looked over and saw what Brandon was doing, Sandra knew she would die of mortification.

Thankfully, Brandon seemed to understand her message. His hand didn’t fight hers. Sandra relaxed, the tension oozing out of her. Brandon’s hand darted upwards like a viper, slipping up her legs into the warm recess between her thighs. Sandra gasped and gripped his wrist, but his hand was already pressed against her panties, below her dress. He could not miss how turned on she was.

“Stop it!” she hissed, conscious of the need to speak quietly enough so that only Brandon would hear.

He only smiled, and leaned into her. “Why?” he whispered in his raspy voice. “I can feel how wet you are for me.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Sandra was horrified at how easily her body responded to him. Before she could formulate an answer, his steady fingers started massaging her clit. The first ripple of pleasure spread through her body, radiating from his magnificent touch. She gasped a sharp breath.

It was wrong. Oh, it was so very wrong! Brandon shouldn’t be doing this, not
here,
not in a sophisticated venue like this, not with so many people around, not with so many piercing eyes in the crowd. All it would take was one wandering look, and she’d be caught. Even worse—

Oh, God!
Sandra bit down her tongue to stop the cry that built in her throat from Brandon’s touch. She shuddered as a spasm of pleasure rocked her body. She knew this was wrong, forbidden, and totally inappropriate. However, there was no going back, now. Her body shouldn’t be responding to him like this. Not here. Not now. Not—

Without warning she hit the climax. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, her body coiled and released in sinful pleasure. She came once, and then, spurred on by Brandon’s heavenly touch, again and again, the waves rocking her body and emptying her mind as she was consumed by the annihilating orgasms. She dug her nails into the hand rests, gripping tight, determined not to make a sound as wild lashes of pleasure swept her body.

Everything in the world faded as Sandra lost herself in a river of pure bliss. She floated on currents of
nothing,
of less than nothing, her mind blank and white.

It was a long time before she descended back down to earth. By then, Brandon’s hand was gone. The danger point was past, the forbidden pleasure reached. And nobody around them had seen anything.

All of a sudden, an insatiable craving erupted in Sandra. She wanted nothing more than to go wild, to pull Brandon into some back stairwell and make love to him, giving him the same pleasure he’d just given her. The thrill, the danger, the threat of discovery… all of it added so much spice
to the carnal pleasure. Surreptitious sex was new to her, but now, after Brandon’s bold demonstration, she wanted
more
.

It was hard to shift her mind back to the ballet. She was so turned on, all she could think of was the end of the night… and what would happen when she and Brandon got back to the hotel suite together.

Chapter Nineteen

Sandra managed to focus enough to rise with the crowd and join in the standing ovation when the show ended. Her desire for Brandon hadn’t subdued at all. If anything, it had grown even greater while she had attempted to suppress it from a boil to a simmer. Now, it was ready to explode.

Clarisse presented the only complication. Sandra couldn’t just whisk Brandon away from her without being rude, or—worse—inappropriate
.
Nobody could know how badly Sandra wanted Brandon except for her—and him, of course.

Yet by some stroke of luck, Clarisse left them almost as soon as they reached the main lobby. She claimed she had some friends to meet in the company, which struck Sandra as odd because she had no idea how an executive assistant—no matter how sophisticated she was—could know people from an
international
ballet group. But that thought was only a blip on Sandra’s mental radar as Clarisse gave her apologetic farewell. All Sandra cared about was being alone with Brandon.

“Do you want to eat?” Brandon asked a few minutes later as he led her to his car.

Eat?
Sandra thought.
No, I’m only hungry for one thing tonight
. Instead, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that back there!” she hissed at him, low so nobody around them would hear. Even if lust for Brandon flared through her like an unyielding siren, she
had
to retain some dignity before him. “What if somebody saw us?”

“Nobody did. I know you liked it.” He flashed that all-too-cocky smile at her. They’d stopped beside his yellow car—clearly the most conspicuous vehicle in the lot. Even though they were in a sophisticated crowd, Sandra noticed some of the envious glances the other men directed at Brandon’s Ferrari. “Besides, you’re the one who gave me the suggestion.”

“I did no such thing!” Sandra exclaimed, aghast. “What are you talking about?”

“In the bathroom. You told me ‘
not here
,’ remember?” He directed an innocent look toward her. “You gave me the idea.”

“I didn’t mean
there
,” Sandra insisted. With the cool night air clearing her head a bit, she found herself with some more perspective about just what Brandon had done. Now, thinking back, it felt like she’d sullied the grandeur and sophistication
of the show by what she did—even if she’d had little choice in the matter. She’d never expected this side to Brandon, not after the tender way he’d made love to her that morning.

But Brandon seemed not to have heard. “Seeing the way those dancers move their bodies…” he trailed off into silence. He’d adopted a faraway look, deep in thought. “And the smell of your hair, the feel of your arm against mine… Sandra, it was too much to resist.”

“Well, you’re going to have to
learn to
, otherwise I won’t be going anywhere in public with you!”

“Sandra, I—” he broke off, and that soul-consuming fire flared in his eyes. Sandra had no warning as his powerful hand grabbed her waist, pulled her toward him, and pressed her back against the jarring cold aluminum of his car. Sandra barely managed a squeak before his mouth was on hers, his hand digging deep into the flesh of her abdomen.

He kissed her with the immoral passion of a Don Juan, with the unrelenting force of a man consumed by lust. Sandra tried to resist, at first, aware again of how visible they were in the parking lot, but her defiance was in vain. After everything that had transpired tonight, she still wanted Brandon as much as he wanted her.

So, she opened her mouth and let his tongue scorch hers, let him devour the very essence that made her whole. The frigid aluminum of the car stole away her warmth, but the heat of Brandon’s mouth replenished it, filling her body and soul with torrential passion.

When he finally broke free, and Sandra gasped that first icy breath into raw lungs, she felt a little dizzy, and had to steady herself by gripping his shoulders.

“Brandon, there are people watching…” she tried to admonish, but the protest was weak and half-hearted.

Brandon turned his head to look around, then caught her eye again. “And so there are.” Sandra saw how many of the passersby were making a concentrated effort to look away, but they were so obvious about it that there was no doubt they saw. “Let them.”