wouldn’t receive quite such a graphic view.
Hell, it was enough for him at this point to simply know for certain that it was really happening. He could request a more explicit view the next time.
“Everything looks great,” he said. “You’re bringing him back here after dinner?”
“That’s the plan.”
Victoria stepped in front of the camera to reveal a fairly simple black top and an almost businesslike short charcoal gray skirt. Almost businesslike, because it didn’t quite come down far enough on her thighs to hide the fact she was wearing lace-top hold-ups rather than hose.
It wasn’t quite the lavish lace lingerie with stockings and suspenders that she’d sported for him, but it still made her look seriously hot.
“How do I look?”
“Amazing.”
“Think he’ll like it?”
“He’ll love it.”
She applied a last bit of lipstick, looking into a mirror that was apparently above the camera, so that she flashed her cleavage at the camera itself. When she glanced back at the lens, he saw how her elegant make-up highlighted her face. She rarely wore make-up for sex with her husband, but now she looked ravishing.
“Okay, I’ll leave it running, but we have dinner first, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said.
“Remember, you can stop all this at any time, just give me a call.”
“I know,” he said, but caught a glimmer in her eyes that suggested she was really hoping he wasn’t going to stop her.
It was an agonizing wait, but only lasted an hour or so. They must have raced through dinner. No drink at the bar afterward, it was straight back up to Victoria’s room.
He saw the man stride across the camera wearing a simple white shirt, lilac tie, dark pants combo. Top button undone. Michael was older than they were: maybe 40, even. He could see why Victoria was attracted to him, but it made him burn with jealousy and trepidation. Even simply drifting in, carrying a bottle of red, two glasses, Michael seemed to exude style.
Was it this style that had caught her attention? Or was she attracted to his mature years, his experience? Or his wealth?
There was no sound, frustratingly, but now he saw Victoria come take a seat on the couch next to her new guy, both of them looking relaxed in each other’s company, conversing freely with glasses of wine in their hands. Liam thought perhaps he didn’t want to hear their conversation anyway.
He wanted to watch their body language. The way Victoria gazed in Michael’s eyes so much, the way both of them laughed so much together. Victoria playing with her hair, that clear signal she wanted him.
She seemed a lot more talkative, a lot more smiley, a lot more expressive than Liam ever remembered her. It was flirting, and she hadn’t done that with him for years. Her movements were overdramatic, the way she used her hands distractedly to shepherd Michael’s eyes to parts of her body: her neck, her collarbone, her chest.
Jealousy, the green-eyed monster, welled up inside of him. And yet it was the most thrilling thing he’d ever seen.
She was going to sleep with this man.
Victoria drew up her legs so she was almost sitting on her feet, and both men could now see her sensational legs, and the fact she was wearing hold-ups. She was so sexy. Liam felt the ocean between them — but Michael only had a few nights with her. Then she would be coming home to Liam.
What were they talking about that could make them both seem so animated? Did it matter? They were edging together, quite subtly.
Until Victoria started stroking the guy’s tie, checking out the material, her face just inches from his. Caressing that damn thing as though it was his prick.
Damn.
The slow blinking, her body closing in on his, her hand slipping up to the knot of his tie, ready to reach for his cheek, pull him to her.
Liam felt his heart pounding. It didn’t seem quite real, and yet this was his fantasy becoming real.
Still they were talking, their lips
Hell, it was enough for him at this point to simply know for certain that it was really happening. He could request a more explicit view the next time.
“Everything looks great,” he said. “You’re bringing him back here after dinner?”
“That’s the plan.”
Victoria stepped in front of the camera to reveal a fairly simple black top and an almost businesslike short charcoal gray skirt. Almost businesslike, because it didn’t quite come down far enough on her thighs to hide the fact she was wearing lace-top hold-ups rather than hose.
It wasn’t quite the lavish lace lingerie with stockings and suspenders that she’d sported for him, but it still made her look seriously hot.
“How do I look?”
“Amazing.”
“Think he’ll like it?”
“He’ll love it.”
She applied a last bit of lipstick, looking into a mirror that was apparently above the camera, so that she flashed her cleavage at the camera itself. When she glanced back at the lens, he saw how her elegant make-up highlighted her face. She rarely wore make-up for sex with her husband, but now she looked ravishing.
“Okay, I’ll leave it running, but we have dinner first, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said.
“Remember, you can stop all this at any time, just give me a call.”
“I know,” he said, but caught a glimmer in her eyes that suggested she was really hoping he wasn’t going to stop her.
It was an agonizing wait, but only lasted an hour or so. They must have raced through dinner. No drink at the bar afterward, it was straight back up to Victoria’s room.
He saw the man stride across the camera wearing a simple white shirt, lilac tie, dark pants combo. Top button undone. Michael was older than they were: maybe 40, even. He could see why Victoria was attracted to him, but it made him burn with jealousy and trepidation. Even simply drifting in, carrying a bottle of red, two glasses, Michael seemed to exude style.
Was it this style that had caught her attention? Or was she attracted to his mature years, his experience? Or his wealth?
There was no sound, frustratingly, but now he saw Victoria come take a seat on the couch next to her new guy, both of them looking relaxed in each other’s company, conversing freely with glasses of wine in their hands. Liam thought perhaps he didn’t want to hear their conversation anyway.
He wanted to watch their body language. The way Victoria gazed in Michael’s eyes so much, the way both of them laughed so much together. Victoria playing with her hair, that clear signal she wanted him.
She seemed a lot more talkative, a lot more smiley, a lot more expressive than Liam ever remembered her. It was flirting, and she hadn’t done that with him for years. Her movements were overdramatic, the way she used her hands distractedly to shepherd Michael’s eyes to parts of her body: her neck, her collarbone, her chest.
Jealousy, the green-eyed monster, welled up inside of him. And yet it was the most thrilling thing he’d ever seen.
She was going to sleep with this man.
Victoria drew up her legs so she was almost sitting on her feet, and both men could now see her sensational legs, and the fact she was wearing hold-ups. She was so sexy. Liam felt the ocean between them — but Michael only had a few nights with her. Then she would be coming home to Liam.
What were they talking about that could make them both seem so animated? Did it matter? They were edging together, quite subtly.
Until Victoria started stroking the guy’s tie, checking out the material, her face just inches from his. Caressing that damn thing as though it was his prick.
Damn.
The slow blinking, her body closing in on his, her hand slipping up to the knot of his tie, ready to reach for his cheek, pull him to her.
Liam felt his heart pounding. It didn’t seem quite real, and yet this was his fantasy becoming real.
Still they were talking, their lips
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