exposed to him above his shaft, staring down at how he filled her.
The lack of intellectual intimacy made it easier for her to focus on nothing but his movement, she realized, tensing as his fingers rotated over her. It sent hot and cold shivers of pleasure through her, and she forgot everything but the attention he gave to building her climax. It swarmed and swelled as he circled her, and she succumbed to a tunnel of focus. He worked her rhythmically, quickly recognizing her response and adapting. She came with a cry as his thumb rubbed and flicked her above his hard cock that pushed into her relentlessly. He followed, with eyes shut tight as he released.
She leaned into his chest as she caught her breath and felt her heart rate settle. The wine still sat on the counter next to her. He stood up straight and ruffled his tousled hair, then pulled his pants over his legs but left them unzipped.
She looked at him and laughed, then slid off the counter. “You weren’t planning to just drive me home, were you?”
“No.” He laughed with her, slipping on his shirt and leaving it open.
“Drink?”
“Yes please.”
She threw on a long shirt from the bedroom and joined him where he’d settled into the sofa cushions. “So this is really happening tonight?” She stared at him with a blend of flirtatiousness and disbelief, unsure if she had fully absorbed the plan.
“I’m just a chess piece in the game, Annie. And so are you, it seems, by your own design.” His smile was suggestive but sincere.
“How do you know Kate?” Guilt smacked her like the back of a hand for breaking her own rules; for caving in to seeking the immediate gratification of discovering something about him.
“Aren’t we supposed to stay strangers?” He looked at her cautiously. “Don’t break the rules and spoil your own game.”
She focused on the skin of his chest peeking from his open shirt, and his hands around his wine glass. On his bare feet with toes slightly curved, flattening the fluff of the carpet. “You’re right, I guess. But for some reason, I feel like breaking my own rules.”
He leaned toward her and lowered his voice, as if another person were present and could hear them. “If you break the rules, you break the game. And then the fun stops, and it becomes enmeshed in reality. I don’t want complications. I want to have sex with you, and help you stick to your goals.” He stood up and buttoned his shirt.
She nodded and sighed, and stood up with him. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the party. Remember the cards.” He pulled on his shoes and kissed her on both cheeks. “See you soon.”
Annie couldn’t decide to feel happy or irritated as she watched him leave. The rules seemed to have become more difficult to follow, and she couldn’t understand why. She still had two more cities to visit, and two more encounters. She reminded herself to stick to the plan, and finished her wine.
She was tempted sit back down and send a message to Kate asking what on earth she’d arranged, but thought better of it. Instead, she showered and changed into a strapless cream dress. She curled her hair with tongs, trying to understand the rapid-fire of French from the talk show on the radio. Frowning, she realized the evening would be excruciating if no one spoke English. She wondered if the other men would understand her, and how much English they spoke.
“Perhaps that’ll be a clue,” she muttered to herself with a comb between her teeth. Pedro and Adrien were both near fluent English speakers. She felt a mix of nerves, excitement and dread at the evening ahead and poured herself a drink from the liquor cabinet in the dining room. The ice cubes dropped and clunked into cognac, and she knocked it back faster than she’d planned. Adrien would arrive in ten minutes. She stared at the cards, reminding herself which card was
Heidi Murkoff, Sharon Mazel