“I was trying to prove a point.” His hands circled her waist and he pulled her to her feet. “Now that I have, I won’t hesitate to.” Glancing at his watch, he frowned. “Unfortunately, it’s time for you to get back to work. We will have to continue this another time.”
“Yes, sir.” She inclined her head, surprised at the feeling of disappointment. Surely she would be jumping at the chance to get back to work? “I will be outside if you need me.”
He smiled wolfishly. “I’m sure you will.”
The rest of the afternoon passed briskly, but without incident. In fact, Eva would have considered it a comfortable day if it weren’t for the hunger clawing at her stomach. She wasn’t allowed to eat at the desk, and even if she had been of a mind to her food was in the break room downstairs, well out of her reach.
Greyson, being the boss, had no such restrictions—he went out and returned with takeout Chinese. The aroma had nearly driven her mad with hunger. By the time six-o’clock rolled around, she was absolutely ravenous. She packed up hastily and was making a beeline for the elevator when Greyson stepped out.
“Eva.” Pausing, she bit back a curse and then turned to face him. One of his hands was tucked casually into his pocket as he smiled. “I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner?”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re inviting me out to eat?”
One of his shoulders shrugged. “It is partially my fault you missed lunch, and I feel guilty for not bringing you anything back. It’s the least I could do.”
She looked at him dubiously. “What do you propose? Perhaps a quick lunch at a diner or café?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I had something a little classier in mind.”
Of course he did. A man like him might go to Panda Express once in a while, but he’d never take a woman to a fast food joint—especially not one he intended to sleep with.
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind letting you buy me dinner.”
“Good.” He crossed the distance and took her arm. “Let’s go, then.”
The place she was whisked off to was far from a McDonald’s. It was an exclusive restaurant owned by a famous French chef, and boasted a wide variety of culinary delights. The waiter brought them a vintage red, and they sat out on the terrace sipping their wine and gazing out over Central Park. She could see Central Park lake sparkling and reflecting the vibrant colors of the setting sun, while people—so tiny and insignificant from up here—walked, ran or biked along the paths.
“This is beautiful.” She had a view of Central Park from her own apartment, but it was nothing like this.
“I’m glad you like it.” He reached across the table and twined his fingers with hers. She shivered as the pad of his thumb lightly stroked the webbing between her thumb and forefinger—a sensitive spot, and from the gleam in his eye, he knew it. “This is one of my favorite places to come to eat out.”
It also cost a fortune, if the menu prices were to be believed. She would have winced if it weren’t for the fact that he was not only paying, but he could well afford the expense. Recklessly, she ordered the most expensive dish on the menu, and proudly told the waiter her choice. Greyson only smiled, as though she were a child who, in a fit of pique attempting to get back at her parent, had instead done something terribly amusing. Shame filled her. Of course he wouldn’t care either way. She was just making herself look foolish.
Rather than make a fuss, she allowed him to draw her into conversation over the meal. She found out he’d grown up in Boston, and at one point had considered going to MIT for their Engineering program. Instead, shortly after getting out high school, he had landed a position as an assistant manager for a locally owned store, and found that he liked the business side of things. He had instead graduated from Boston College with an MBA and had gone on to New York after running a variety of successful business ventures for others to start on his own.
Eva offered sparse details about her own life, not necessarily because she wanted to hide anything, but because compared to his accomplishments she felt as though her life was a failure. Because she’d gotten a job straight out of high school, and a rather cushiony one at that, she felt as though it wasn’t necessary for her to go to college, that she would be perfectly content with where she was at. She had no concept of job security, of the state of the economy, of anything outside her little sphere. And so when the company had folded, she was left out in the cold.
Despite this, he seemed perfectly content with the anecdotes she did tell him—of life with her family in Oyster Bay, of different trips she’d taken and various exploits she’d had with her friends. A few times he’d even chuckled as she’d detailed some of the more mischievous doings she and her friends had gotten themselves into. Retelling them put a smile to her face as well—it had been a long time since she’d done anything so care free.
Once the meal was over, he took her for a walk down in the park. The sun was nearly gone by then, with only the gilt edges remaining as twilight reigned over the sky. Nowhere else in the city was it more obvious that spring had arrived—the profusion of greenery, the quiet chirping of birds settling down for the night, and the fragrance of a multitude of blossoms drifting over the wind were the season’s banner being flown high and proud.
“I love nature,” she said with a quiet sigh as they walked along a path near the lake. She could hear distant chatter and laughter of other people also out to enjoy the beauty Central Park provided, but there weren’t as many as they were during the day now that the sun had darkened the foliage. People liked to see the blossoms in full color, after all.
“So do I,” he told her, his hand at the small of her back. “This place shows us the bright side of life—that we can take pleasure in the sights, sounds and smells of the world. His hand inched a little lower, brushing the curve of her bottom. “And other things, too.”
Her pulse leaped as he turned her onto a smaller trail, one off the beaten path that lead into a cluster of trees. “Where are we going?”
“For some privacy.”
He backed her up against the tall, sturdy trunk of a tree—it was too dark for her to tell what kind it was. The craggy bark dug in between her shoulder blades, but she could hardly focus on the discomfort as his lips took hers. Their first kiss was not gentle, but neither was it particularly rough. It was simply impassioned, filled with the edge of hunger, yet there was a quality to it that told her he was in no hurry to have that hunger fulfilled.
“I’ve wanted to kiss your pouty lips since the first moment you stepped into my office,” he told her after he’d pulled away with a tug of his teeth on her lower lip. “You taste like everything I could ever hope for.”
“Oh?” she asked breathlessly as he scorched the side of her neck with kisses. “And what was it you were hoping for?”
She’d never before thought of herself that way, but she certainly felt it now, as he heated her with his touch. She could feel his erection pressing against her hip bone, an insistent reminder that she’d yet to fulfill her end of the bargain, and yet he made no move other than to taste her, touch her, inflame her. She felt as though each breath against her skin, each stroke of his thumb against the nipples poking through the fabric of her dress, was a bellows being poured into her furnace, stroking the banked coals of her desire to impossible levels of heat. She was panting, flushed, her pussy throbbing and wet, and he hadn’t even gotten her clothes off.
“Wait,” she gasped as he began sliding his hands up her dress. They paused mid-thigh, so close to the center of her torment. But she had to do this. He had pleasured her selflessly this afternoon, despite the fact that she had promised him pleasure as well. It was time for her to uphold her end of the bargain.
Without giving an explanation she reached down and yanked his belt free. With fumbling fingers she undid his pants, then reached in to wrap her fingers around his cock. She gasped as she realized he wore nothing beneath his pants—her fingers met the velvet steel of his shaft, and he sucked in a breath rapidly as she wrapped her fingers around it. It was too dark to see, but she was able to discern by touch, by rubbing her fingers up and down his length, that he was a large man in more ways than one.
“Eva,” he growled in the stillness. “Are you just going to stand there and tickle me? Or are you going to do something?”
She smiled at the mixture of lust and ire in his voice—obviously he wasn’t too pleased about having control wrested from him, but at the same time he was hardly going to ask her to remove her hands.
“I thought this was about telling the other person what you wanted,” she teased, tossing his words back into her face.”
His fingers were suddenly in her hair. “Eva, honey, I have no problem telling a woman what I want from her,” he said, his voice silky, in direct contrast to the hands roughly pushing her down. “What I want is for you to suck my cock. Now.”