Sinful Desire (Sinful Nights, #2)(17)
But was that the right word for her? She didn’t really know if the term fit her since she’d never been in that type of relationship. Her experience was limited to Holden and to a college boyfriend who’d been rather “fratty” in bed.
Still, she knew what turned her on. She knew what she fantasized about.
Being dominated. Being taken. Being tied up. Even if she’d never fully experienced that type of lover, she was sure of what made her blood heat up and her body spark. Fantasies tripped through her mind late at night in bed, alone, and they often involved being pinned.
Bound.
Tied.
After struggling to make it work between the sheets, she and Holden had both agreed they’d be better off friends than lovers. The transition away from him wasn’t wholly easy, and there had been times when she’d felt unsure of herself and her femininity. But she and Holden made a pact to stay the close friends they had always been.
A talented pianist, Holden had both toured the world and played piano in recording sessions for commercials and jingles, and would be joining the symphony at the concert she’d arranged in two weeks to raise money for the community center. “Do you think Clyde will try to marry you off again at the concert?” Holden asked.
Sophie wrapped her fingers around the edge of the piano. “He’s bringing a boy-child to the event. I have no doubt he wants to pawn me off on his lawyer grandson, and he thinks if he can just get us in the same room that we’ll fall madly in love.”
Holden shuddered dramatically. “Being the glamorous divorcée,” he said, stopping to sketch air quotes as he used the moniker that a Vegas high-society blog had bestowed on her, “isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”
She swatted his shoulder. “You’re a glamorous divorcé, too.”
“Oh yeah. They’re lining up in droves for a piece of me,” he said with a wink.
Piece of me. Her mind flashed back to a few nights ago at Aria, and to the commanding way Ryan Whoever He Was had controlled her pleasure backstage. A frisson of longing raced through her. She craved his touch again.
“Hello? Did you just drift off to la-la land?” Holden asked, waving his hand in front of her.
She blinked, and grinned, caught in the act of remembering a hot encounter. “I did. Because I met someone the other night, and we had a fantastic time.”
Holden patted the piano bench. “Sit. Tell me everything.”
Sophie sat on the bench and recounted the details. Not all of them. Not the particularly naughty ones. But the tidbits about how they met, and how he showed up at the gala, and how she barely knew anything about him.
“Which I like,” she added. Perhaps she liked it so much because it was the opposite of her experience. She’d known everything about Holden, she’d gone in with her eyes wide open, and they hadn’t worked out.
She knew virtually nothing of Ryan. Maybe the change was what she needed. To go into this thing blindfolded.
Wait. Add that to the list of things she wanted to try. Blindfold.
“Be careful,” Holden said in warning. “He could be anyone.”
“That’s why it’s fun.”
“That’s also why it’s dangerous.”
She nodded. “I know. I like danger.”
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said, patting her knee.
“It’s only fun and games. I’m not interested in anything more. In fact, I hope I never learn his last name,” she said as she crossed her legs and kicked a foot back and forth, demonstrating how completely content she’d be in that scenario.
Even though, truth be told, she was terribly curious about the man behind the orgasm.
Chapter Seven
So many sartorial choices.
On the one hand, this sun-yellow dress hugged her hips quite nicely.
On the other hand, the red one with the tiny white polka dots did offer a nice little cleavage peek-a-boo.
As Sophie tapped her finger against her lips, weighing the options for tonight in her perfectly organized, neatly arranged, color-coordinated closet, her phone buzzed from the back pocket of her capris. She was at home, so jeans were acceptable.
She grabbed it and spotted an envelope icon popping up at the top of the screen. Probably nothing that needed her attention now, midday Sunday, especially, since she had a whole sea of clothes to consider in the middle of her walk-in closet, which was something of a sanctuary in her home.
Because…walk-in closet.
Complete with carpeting and ample shelves for shoes.
Enough said.
Absently, she ran her thumb across the screen, noticing the time as she scrolled. Seven more hours until her date. Four hundred and twenty minutes. Twenty-five thousand and two hundred seconds.
Whoa.
Was that her date’s name in her email?
Perhaps this email warranted her undivided attention after all. As she opened it, her belly flipped, her body lighting up simply from the intoxicating memory of his backstage skills.
from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
date: July 14, 11:58 AM
subject: Question
Are you afraid of heights?
A grin spread quickly across her face. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until she saw him this evening. He must have found her email address on her Facebook profile. She liked that he’d been hunting for her. She liked it a lot.