club.
“Good evening, señorita,” said the girl at the desk politely.
“Hi,” said Siena. “I wonder if you can help me.” She quickly explained what she wanted. The girl listened and smiled. Taking the card from Siena, she disappeared, returning five minutes later.
“It’s all organised and I will call you to confirm he is in receipt of both his drink and your card.”
“Excellent,” replied Siena, excited and anxious.
She climbed into her hire car, a sporty BMW Z4, and started as her phone began to ring. She answered it quickly.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Waters, your guest has his drink and your card. Is there anything else we can assist you with this evening?” said the capable voice.
“No, but thank you, I appreciate you calling so quickly,” she replied and disconnected the call.
Pressing the ignition button and accelerator, the engine roared into life. She made her way home, consumed with Benedict and the coincidence that brought him back into her life.
Had she not been looking for an exceptional architect, dismissing one design after another until her exasperated project manager suggested his company, she wouldn’t have had his cell number.
Of course, his secretary had given it to her secretary along with the details of his accommodation should she wish to get in touch with him. She didn’t mean to call him later that night, but found she couldn’t stop thinking about him and that call…the memory of that night made her shiver. Then tonight when he had sent Matt, she’d been so angry. She could easily have left it at that and fired him from the project. But here she was, and she didn’t know why this man was different. She needed to know she was still in control; she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.
On the balcony, the food was ready.
“Champagne?” asked Benedict.
“Yes,” she replied, and he poured them both a glass. “I hope you will indulge me tonight,” she said sweetly.
Benedict stared at her warily as she pulled what he thought was a napkin from its holder, only to discover it was, in fact, a hooded blindfold, the ribbon and bell nestled inside.
“Only if I can go first,” said Benedict, rising from his seat and moving around to pull the hood from her fingers. Slipping it over her head, she let out a little gasp as darkness descended.
Holding the ribbon, he pulled her arms behind her back and secured it around her wrists before moving them to check that the bell was working.
“Benedict,” she protested.
“Sssssh,” he murmured. “You know the rules.”
He stood behind her and Siena rested her head against him. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and started to caress them. His hands stroked the nape of her neck and arms. He ran his fingers repeatedly up and down her throat again and again. Massaging, brushing and caressing until he felt her body start to respond.
Siena felt the sensations beginning to build, surprised by how difficult it was not to respond to his touch. She was usually good at this game, had played it many times before, but this was different. His hands were slow and firm as he explored her décolletage, her breath quickening as she felt his nails dragging gently down her arms as goose pimples popped up along her skin. She almost screamed when his fingers grazed the top of her breasts and had to bite her lip to stop from doing so.
They were moving in slow rhythmic circles, and felt like a brand as they sizzled against her skin, leaving her hot and aroused. Siena found she was almost panting. When his thumb did eventually graze her nipple, slipping inside the front of her dress, she did scream, her body jerking as the bell rung loudly. Benedict stopped, he too was breathing hard. Reaching down, he pulled the ribbon from Siena’s hands as they heard knocking at the door.
“Damn, should we ignore it?” Benedict asked, but the knocking persisted and he reluctantly moved to open it.
It was room service with what appeared to be their
“Good evening, señorita,” said the girl at the desk politely.
“Hi,” said Siena. “I wonder if you can help me.” She quickly explained what she wanted. The girl listened and smiled. Taking the card from Siena, she disappeared, returning five minutes later.
“It’s all organised and I will call you to confirm he is in receipt of both his drink and your card.”
“Excellent,” replied Siena, excited and anxious.
She climbed into her hire car, a sporty BMW Z4, and started as her phone began to ring. She answered it quickly.
“Hello.”
“Ms. Waters, your guest has his drink and your card. Is there anything else we can assist you with this evening?” said the capable voice.
“No, but thank you, I appreciate you calling so quickly,” she replied and disconnected the call.
Pressing the ignition button and accelerator, the engine roared into life. She made her way home, consumed with Benedict and the coincidence that brought him back into her life.
Had she not been looking for an exceptional architect, dismissing one design after another until her exasperated project manager suggested his company, she wouldn’t have had his cell number.
Of course, his secretary had given it to her secretary along with the details of his accommodation should she wish to get in touch with him. She didn’t mean to call him later that night, but found she couldn’t stop thinking about him and that call…the memory of that night made her shiver. Then tonight when he had sent Matt, she’d been so angry. She could easily have left it at that and fired him from the project. But here she was, and she didn’t know why this man was different. She needed to know she was still in control; she still had a few tricks up her sleeve.
On the balcony, the food was ready.
“Champagne?” asked Benedict.
“Yes,” she replied, and he poured them both a glass. “I hope you will indulge me tonight,” she said sweetly.
Benedict stared at her warily as she pulled what he thought was a napkin from its holder, only to discover it was, in fact, a hooded blindfold, the ribbon and bell nestled inside.
“Only if I can go first,” said Benedict, rising from his seat and moving around to pull the hood from her fingers. Slipping it over her head, she let out a little gasp as darkness descended.
Holding the ribbon, he pulled her arms behind her back and secured it around her wrists before moving them to check that the bell was working.
“Benedict,” she protested.
“Sssssh,” he murmured. “You know the rules.”
He stood behind her and Siena rested her head against him. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders and started to caress them. His hands stroked the nape of her neck and arms. He ran his fingers repeatedly up and down her throat again and again. Massaging, brushing and caressing until he felt her body start to respond.
Siena felt the sensations beginning to build, surprised by how difficult it was not to respond to his touch. She was usually good at this game, had played it many times before, but this was different. His hands were slow and firm as he explored her décolletage, her breath quickening as she felt his nails dragging gently down her arms as goose pimples popped up along her skin. She almost screamed when his fingers grazed the top of her breasts and had to bite her lip to stop from doing so.
They were moving in slow rhythmic circles, and felt like a brand as they sizzled against her skin, leaving her hot and aroused. Siena found she was almost panting. When his thumb did eventually graze her nipple, slipping inside the front of her dress, she did scream, her body jerking as the bell rung loudly. Benedict stopped, he too was breathing hard. Reaching down, he pulled the ribbon from Siena’s hands as they heard knocking at the door.
“Damn, should we ignore it?” Benedict asked, but the knocking persisted and he reluctantly moved to open it.
It was room service with what appeared to be their
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