French Silk(61)

Alister almost laughed as Yasmine rolled her hips forward, then backward, as she crammed her breast into his mouth. I'm "presently engaged" f*cking my brains out with my mistress, he thought. Wouldn't that rock the foundations of the Capitol? Wouldn't his constituents be astonished? Wouldn't his foes have a field day?

She came before he did. Closing her arms tightly around his head, she whispered an erotic chant in his ear, "Ohsugarohbabyohgodohyesohf*ck," while one spasm after another gripped him deeper and tighter inside her.

His climax wasn't as vocal but was just as tempestuous. For a full sixty seconds afterward she clung to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

When she sat up, her torso was gleaming with perspiration, the sheen enhanced by the gold chains suspended from her neck. Her tiger eyes still smoldered. She was so damned gorgeous she took his breath … what was left of it.

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

He chuckled, wincing slightly as he slipped out of her and realized they'd made quite a mess. "I love you, too." Ever aware that there was nothing between him and ruination except a door, he wondered worriedly how long they'd been in there. Nevertheless, he couldn't hustle her out without dispensing some reassurances.

"When I don't call, I'm only protecting you. You've got to believe that, Yasmine. I'm constantly surrounded by people. I can barely take a leak without somebody following me into the john. I'm working day and night when I'm here. And it's even tougher to see you in New Orleans."

She cupped his face and brought his mouth up to hers for a slow, wet kiss. "I understand. Truly I do. It's just that I've been so lonesome for you. Can we spend the night together tonight?"

He was torn by indecision. It might be wise to indulge her. On the other hand, the risks of getting caught in Washington were tremendous. "I really can't. I'm scheduled on a five o'clock plane this afternoon. There's a fund-raising function tonight in New Orleans that I can't miss."

"What flight are you taking? I'll go, too. We can meet tonight after your function."

Damn! The situation was getting treacherous. "I can't, Yasmine. It takes days to set up our meetings. You know that." She looked angry and crestfallen and suspicious. Quickly he drew her against him and kissed her again. "Jesus, I wish we could. Later in the week, I'll come to New York. Give me a few days to make the arrangements."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled her dress back into place and replaced the scarf on her shoulder. Alister's shirt was hopelessly wrinkled; he hoped it wouldn't be noticeable beneath his suit jacket. His lap was uncomfortably sticky, too, but there was no help for that.

Yasmine withdrew a check from her handbag and placed it on his desk. "I hope this contribution doesn't get me into trouble."

"Trouble?" He was readjusting his necktie.

"Hmm. One's come back to haunt me. Remember my telling you that I sent an offering to Jackson Wilde under my real name?"

"Yeah? So? You said you thought it might be worth a try to bribe him."

"Well, it wasn't. I lost a thousand dollars I couldn't afford to lose. My follow-up letter was returned with a handwritten message: 'Nice try.' I never knew if Wilde himself or one of his flunkies wrote it, but apparently he wasn't into taking bribes."

"Either that, or you didn't offer enough."

"Right. Anyway, Assistant D.A. Cassidy found out about it. He called me in New York. I admitted that I had halfheartedly tried to bribe Wilde so he'd leave Claire and me alone. He asked to see the letter, which I'd thrown away the minute I read it.

"That's only half of it. Unknown to me, Claire had also sent Wilde money. She chewed my ass for not telling her about my offering. I turned it around and reminded her that she hadn't told me about hers, either. We had a quite a row over it."

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that Cassidy isn't buying our explanations and is reading more into it."

"According to the newspapers, he's trying to scrape up a case out of nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not. It'll blow over." She gave him a sidelong look and winked. "Besides, I had a damn good alibi the night the preacher was killed, remember?"

"Right. You were in New York."

"No, I was sixty-nining with you." Laughing, she opened his lap drawer and dropped her panties inside. "A little something to remember me by, Congressman."

"I don't need anything to remember you by." He wasn't a politician for nothing. He knew when to stoke and just how much. Feigning urgency, he pulled her against him. They embraced and kissed once more. He tried to hide the impatience behind his kiss and ignore the desperation behind hers.

At last she was prepared to go. Then, with her hand on the doorknob, she turned back. "Alister, if I ever found out you were lying to me, I'd be pissed."

"Lying?" He took her hand and rubbed it against his fly. In a low voice he said, "There are some things a man can't lie about."

For once she didn't welcome the chance to fondle him. When he let go of her hand, she let it fall listlessly to her side. "I just thought you ought to be forewarned, sugar," she said. "I don't get mad. I get even."