Satisfaction Page 13

  Sophia promised to show them the vinification process during a tour of the cellars tomorrow morning. Then it would be back home to San Francisco, and what ever reality awaited Georgie there.

  She inhaled the hot summer air, forcing her mind to the task at hand, and not the fact that somebody—maybe Paul, maybe his father—was actively doing things to shake her up, possibly hurt her. This weekend so far had been a respite from fear, and she had to admit that Ethan’s presence had a lot to do with it.

  The day spun away into evening and soon all the guests reassembled in the large dining room for a wonderful meal of lobster bisque and steaks grilled to perfection, smothered with garlic herb butter. Chaos for your cholesterol, Georgie mused, but damn, it was good.

  All evening long, people approached Ethan, asking for advice on one thing or another. Having embraced his role, he generally smiled and made some obvious remark, which people seemed to accept as wisdom, even though she knew it was a total crock.

  After the last woman thanked him and wandered away, Georgie said, “You’re pathetic. Everybody’s going to think I’m a moron for having an idiot for a feng shui master.”

  “You’re pathetic…Master,” he corrected. “When will young Grasshopper learn she sleeps in bed of own making?”

  “You’re not frigging Lao-tzu,” Georgie snapped. “You’re not even David Carradine, so stow the pithy remarks.”

  “Hey, I’m just playing the role you cast for me, Grasshopper.” Looking around the room, he said softly, “I’ve gotta tell you, this is the most reverent crowd I’ve ever seen in my life. The pope should get this kind of ardor. Nobody has looked me in the eye for hours.”

  “Uh, well”—she gulped—“they’re obviously very devout.”

  As Georgie scowled up at him, she saw a flash of movement to her left, and their hostess appeared.

  “Master?” she breathed, virtually ignoring Georgie. Placing her palms together in a gesture of prayer, Sophia bowed slightly. “A favor, if I may?” She was clad in a form-fitting yellow dress that allowed a generous view of her deep cleavage. How disgustingly obvious.

  Ethan turned to Sophia and smiled blandly. “Yes, my child?”

  Why in the hell was the woman standing so close to him? Sophia couldn’t imagine that he would be interested in her, him being a eunuch and all, unless her hostess suspected Georgie’s deceit and was testing the waters. Sophia had always been a little on the slutty side, in Georgie’s opinion, but the woman wasn’t stupid. She knew a man when she saw one, and had always gone after the best-looking guys in school…and gotten them.

  Georgie sipped her wine. Why in the hell should she care what Ethan did or didn’t do with Sophia? It wasn’t like he was Georgie’s personal property; it wasn’t like they had a relationship.

  As Sophia fawned over Ethan, engaging him in some stupid-ass conversation about the appropriate positioning of tableware in order to aid in digestion, Georgie fumed a little more. She slid a glance toward him just in time to catch him casting an appreciative look at Sophia’s bountifully displayed bosom.

  Damn! Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the fact she did have a relationship with Ethan, whether either of them wanted to admit to it or not, but she suddenly felt very possessive of her counterfeit feng shui master. Sophia had no right to sink her hooks into Georgie’s man, especially not right in front of her, eunuch or not.

  She was about to speak up when Sophia slipped her arm through Ethan’s. “Pardon me for being forward, Master,” she said softly, her brown eyes earnest yet somehow calculating. “But your discipline simply astounds me, and I wondered if I might, just for one moment, impose on your serenity and ask an intimate question?”

  Bells clanged inside Georgie’s head like fire alarms. No, Sophia. Don’t do it. Don’t go there. For God’s sake, don’t go there.

  Georgie shot a nervous look at Ethan, whose brow was furrowed in confusion.

  “My child,” he said evenly, “to what are you referring?”

  Sophia’s catlike grin said it all. “Well,” she simpered, “I’m wondering why a man such as yourself, so…well, manly, and all…would make such a drastic and irreversible decision.”

  When Ethan looked dumbfounded, Sophia said to Georgie, “Excuse us, would you?” Tugging at his arm, she eased Ethan back into a secluded corner of the room where Georgie couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Sophia wasn’t that forward, was she? But if Georgie protested her dragging Ethan off, he’d probably get suspicious. Oh what a tangled web we weave…

  Judging the number of ounces remaining in her wineglass, she knocked them back in one gulp. When he killed her, she didn’t want to feel it.

  She stood frozen in place, watching their heads bent together as Sophia whispered something in Ethan’s ear, then giggled.

  His head snapped around, and he shot Georgie a look that could only be described as murderous. Everything she needed to know about what Sophia was saying could be read in Ethan’s glittering, narrowed, homicidal eyes.

  He pursed his lips, turned back toward Sophia, and bent his head to hers once more. A second later, Sophia’s head snapped up and her jaw dropped. She looked directly at Georgie, astonishment clear to see in her wide, rapidly blinking eyes.

  The two continued with their nods and whispers for a few moments more while Georgie’s stomach began doing the cha-cha, and not in a good way. By the time Sophia all but stumbled off, she looked as though she needed a straight shot of something, and Ethan, the rat, looked like he’d just consumed the most satisfying meal of his life.

  Georgie turned her back on his mocking stare. Dammit. If she at least had her own room, or any room, for that matter, she could go there now, lock herself in, and wish this whole ridiculous weekend had never happened!

  Looking for a potted palm large enough to go hide behind until morning, she felt a hand slip around her waist. “Not so fast, Grasshopper,” he drawled. His arm tightened in a move obviously designed to intimidate. Too bad it didn’t work.

  “Let go of me, Master,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “It’s getting late and I need to find a room—”

  “Not a problem. Let’s go.”

  A few minutes later, Georgie found herself in Ethan’s darkened bedroom—well, her darkened bedroom, she reminded herself. Moonlight filtered in through lace sheers fluttering at the arched window, mottling the bedcover with quicksilver flecks.

  Behind her, the door closed. She heard the lock snap against the brass plate.

  She didn’t turn to him; she didn’t dare.

  Silence reigned for a heartbeat, then another. She felt him move up close behind her.

  “A eunuch, Georgie? A fucking eunuch?”

  “That’s an unfortunate turn of phrase,” she drawled, “since it’s a physical impossibility, or would take a force of will I doubt even you could muster.”

  She felt his hands on her shoulder. They were trembling. Oh, God. He was so furious, he really was going to strangle her.

  Then she heard it…a low rumble, then a snort, then it burst forth. Laughter. Loud, and raucous, and hearty.

  His hands dropped from her shoulders as he made his way past her to the bed, where he collapsed, clutching his stomach. He seemed to be trying to speak, but every time the words would form, he’d begin to laugh again and they’d get lost.

  He sat up, wiped his eyes, looked at her, then started over, laughing so hard, she thought the walls would shudder.

  “Oh, God,” he gasped. “Oh, Jesus. That’s why they were all staring. Oh, my God.” Then he was off again, the deep laughter making her want to laugh as well, but all she could do was stare at his prone body, the long, lean length of him on that bed, and the bulge in his pants that most definitely was not bunched denim.

  She crossed her arms over her stomach. “Are you done?” she sniped, waiting for him to quiet himself and sit up. Finally, he did. “You have some ’splaining to do yourself, Master,” she accused. “What did you tell her
about me?”

  In the shadows of the room, she saw his mouth curve on one end. Leaning back against the headboard, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh, sorry, Grasshopper, but I was mad, you know, about the eunuch thing. All I can say is, maybe they looked at my crotch all day today, but tomorrow they’ll be looking at yours. George.”

  He grinned like a Cheshire cat. His gleaming eyes met hers in challenge.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she gaped at him. “No!”

  “Yes.” His smile widened.

  Well, that did it. She’d had enough. She didn’t care if she had to sleep with the grapes in one of those damn gondolas, she was not spending the night in the same room with a man who’d just told blabbermouthed Sophia Giordano that she was a transsexual!

  But as she raised her hand to flip the deadbolt, Ethan was suddenly behind her, his steady fingers curling over hers, preventing her from turning the lock. She felt the heat of his body envelop her, caught the sent of his skin.

  “Don’t go,” he whispered. “Come to bed. Make love with me, Georgie.”

  She whirled on him. “What! Sleep with you? After what you’ve done?”

  “What have I done?” he said lightly. “Besides, you started it.”

  “Well, I was angry at you for—”

  “For what? For wanting to protect you? For doing my job? You haven’t made that job easy, either. You haven’t exactly been up front with me, have you?”

  Her mind went to Paul, the phone call, the visit, the threat, the secret she carried about what she and Raine and Mrs. Beebes were doing. No, she hadn’t been up front with Ethan, but she had nothing to feel guilty over. She was protecting the ones she loved.

  Glaring up into his eyes, she said, “I didn’t ask you to be my bodyguard. I didn’t ask for you to come along this weekend. The only way I could fight back was to make you a eunuch, figuratively speaking. But what you did was reprehensible. I’m on TV. Now all these people are going to think—”

  “Georgie.” Ethan’s lids lowered, took on a sleepy look. “It was simply tit for tat. And speaking of which…” His gaze drifted down to her breasts, then returned to her eyes. “I want to make love to you. And I think you want the same thing.”

  She swallowed. “So now you’re psychic as well as being a feng shui master?”

  He slowly shook his head. With one hand, he brushed her hair aside, placing his mouth on the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. His kiss was teasing, his lips soft, the light flick of his tongue erotic.

  Her pulse quickened and she knew she should push him away.

  “We’re…I’m still mad at you.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he murmured as his hands eased around her waist and he tugged her closer.

  “We haven’t resolved this yet.”

  “Nuh-uh.” His lips trailed along her collarbone while his hands slowly crept up her sides.

  “I don’t have sex with men I don’t like.”

  Okay, sure, like that ever stopped a determined male.

  Pulling her closer, he kissed her, and she let him. Her head spun with desire as his mouth and tongue seduced her, making her skin too warm, too sensitive. Her body screamed for the release she hadn’t enjoyed for so very long. With Ethan, it would be good, it would be incredible. His hands moved under her blouse, his thumbs slid along the top of her bra, then tugged the silky fabric down so he could rub her nipples. The buds peaked, and she felt a thrill like an electric shock shoot straight down between her legs. In that moment, her resistance evaporated like a San Francisco mist.

  “I want to see you naked,” he whispered. “You can still be mad at me. I won’t hold it against you. C’mon Georgie, make love with me. Let me make you feel good.”

  Her eyes drifted closed and she let her head fall back. The sensation of his fingers playing with her nipples drove her wild, making her want, need. She felt edgy, hot. It had been such a long time. It seemed she’d shut herself off from intimacy forever ago, unable to trust any man with her body.

  As big a mistake as she knew it was, she wanted him desperately, wanted to get close to him, feel his strong arms around her, drown in his kisses. Maybe it was time she really did shut down her brain and just let it happen.

  Sliding her arms around his neck, she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her so tightly against him, she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, as rapid and frantic as her own. She felt something else, too.

  She pulled back from the kiss a fraction to nibble on his damp lower lip. Rolling her hips against his jutting length, she murmured, “It seems whoever performed your operation missed a couple of things.”

  He panted, “Yeah. That’s what happens when the low bid gets the job.”

  Then his lips took hers in a kiss that turned quickly desperate, ravenous. Their tongues tangled. He tasted of sweet, salty wine, and she moaned.

  She tugged his shirt free of his waistband and slid her hands underneath the fabric. Muscle and flesh, warm, silky hard, met her eager palms. His body was perfect, and she wanted to see it, touch it, taste it. She wanted it over hers, under hers. She wanted the feel of him between her legs, rubbing her there, that place where sensation was everything and mindless plea sure would send her tumbling into oblivion.

  He moved his hands, and her top came off over head. A second later, her bra dropped to the floor. His hands and his mouth were everywhere and she squirmed in his arms. A moment later, her skirt and pan ties joined her other clothing. She was naked…except for her heels.

  Ethan stepped away, his breathing hard and raspy. Though the room was dim, she knew he could see her, so she eased back against the door, her arms behind her, and let him look. His hungry eyes raked her body as he unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside.

  Now it was Georgie’s turn to stare.

  As she’d imagined, he was perfect. The hard planes of his chest, the lean waist, taut abs, begged for her hands, her mouth. She went down on one knee, fumbling for his belt buckle, opening it. Tugging at the zipper, she shoved his jeans away, closing her mouth over the hard ridge beneath his soft briefs.

  “Georgie,” he groaned. His hands stroked her hair. “Georgie…”

  His lungs were bellowing when she dipped the elastic down to let his shaft spring forward. Sliding her hand along its length, she moved, taking the satiny tip into her mouth.

  He made a low, guttural sound she took as pleasure, which only increased her own.

  Suddenly he pulled back, reached for her, and brought her to her feet. “Have to stop,” he choked. “Or it’ll be over way too soon.”

  “I want to lie on the bed,” she demanded. “I want to feel your weight on me.”

  In one smooth move, he picked her up and laid her on the coverlet. A moment later, when he came down on top of her, he was naked.

  One hand cupped her breast, and then she felt his mouth on her nipple, suckling, licking, tasting, and teasing until her body felt like a tightly coiled spring. Colors burst inside her head as he took her to the edge of insanity, and she squirmed, whimpered, begged.

  With one knee, he parted her thighs and moved between them. He fumbled with a condom. Quickly, he sheathed himself.

  “Something you want, Grasshopper?” he teased as he settled between her thighs. “You need only ask…in the appropriate manner.”

  She would have laughed, but she was too desperate to have him inside her, too frayed around the edges to think of anything to say.

  “Do it,” she breathed. “Now. Please.” Arching her back, she brought her hips forward, easing his head into position. She wiggled again, but he only pushed in a fraction, and she thought she’d scream in frustration.

  “Ethan,” she begged, her eyes closed, her head thrown back. She was so close to coming, just the touch of his penis had nearly sent her over.

  He chuckled in a breathy, labored sort of way. “Yes, Grasshopper?” he whispered. “A little more?” He eased his hips forward, and she sighed
in delight.

  “Yes…oh, yes…please…Master…”

  “Georgie,” he whispered, and once more crushed his mouth against hers. Grasping her hands, he lifted them over her head, intertwining his fingers with hers as he plunged into her.

  Sensation took away her world, leaving only Ethan above her, Ethan inside her. It was the only world she had ever known, would ever know. The taste of him, the feel, the way he moved.

  She felt her body stiffen, felt the delicious peak begin, lifting her higher and higher. One thrust, another…

  “Ethan, oh, my God, Ethan…”

  He kissed her again, hard, demanding, rough. He went wild on top of her, slamming into her, holding her down, driving himself on, taking her to a place she’d never been before.

  She felt it coming. Oh yes oh yes oh yes…

  Her back arched, and his body stilled. She wanted to grab his hips and force him to keep going, but he held her hands imprisoned.

  Slowly, he slid back in…and she cried out, bursting into flames, her skin scorched, her lungs pumping, trying to pull in enough air to stay alive.

  He thrust again, and again, then gave a hard cry and a shout, slamming into her body as though he were a force of nature that could not be stopped. She climaxed once more, the orgasm taking her by surprise as she tried to catch her breath.

  Ethan eased down on top of her, gently releasing her hands. Immediately she slid her arms around his strong back as she felt her eyes begin to burn. She swallowed, bit down, but it was too late, and the tears slipped from her eyes in a mini-gusher.

  How could she have let this happen? How could she have let her defenses down, let him in, let him get to her? What was she going to do now?

  Her arms tightened around his back as she savored the feeling of him so close, reveled in the heat and weight of him. Pinching her lids tight, she tried to keep the tears at bay, but a tiny sob escaped in spite of her efforts.

  Ethan stilled for a moment, then lifted himself a little away. She knew he was peering down at her face, studying her, trying to figure out what was wrong. Any second, he’d say something stupid like, Do you always cry after sex? Or Did I hurt you? Or the totally clueless, What’s the matter?