Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

“It’s a corset,” she murmured, fingers tracing the black lace edging.

“It’s perfect to highlight your gorgeous breasts.”

It would drive him to the brink of insanity watching her as they ate dinner tomorrow night. Watching Simon want her, salivate over her. Knowing what was to come.

For their Sunday night tryst, Ford had chosen an elegant, luxurious hotel with a magnificent view of Union Square.

“Does it fit your fantasy?” Close behind her as she held the drapery aside, his breath fanned the hair at her nape.

“It’s perfect.” The view, the room, the menu, the man. Sophia wasn’t so sure about herself. She’d started getting the jitters around four o’clock this afternoon, half an hour before he was supposed to pick her up. Hard to believe she’d agreed to do this, had actually suggested it.

What if she disappointed him?

He tugged her away from the window. “Let’s pour a glass of wine and get you dressed up.”

She’d worn the comfortable sweats she needed for tomorrow, and Ford brought the outfit they’d purchased yesterday. Sophia followed him down the dozen steps to the suite’s lower level. Combination living room and dining area below, the bedroom and bathroom lay at the top of the short flight of stairs, the king-size bed visible from below through the metal railing.

That bed would be a reminder throughout the dinner Ford had planned. He’d spared no expense. The dining table was set, the wine already chilling when they arrived.

He handed her a glass of chardonnay, tipped his own to hers. “Here’s to fulfilling your fantasy.”

The wine was dry and excellent, its vibrancy tingling on her tongue. “What if I have more than one fantasy?” she teased, trying to put aside her butterflies.

“We’ll work our way through them.”

She laughed. “There might be way too many.”

“A woman can never have too many fantasies.” He saluted. “Bring your wine, I’m going to dress you.”

“That’s a scary thought.” It was supposed to be a joke, but as she once again followed him back up the stairs, it wasn’t so funny. The closer they got to the appointed hour when Simon Foster would arrive, the faster her heart started to beat.

She’d forgotten how good sex could really be. Even when she indulged in relationships, she made sure she never did anything the tabloids could use as fodder. Just in case she misjudged the man she was with. Then came the job at Caprice, and her whole focus turned to being the best she could be, impressing the executive team with her work ethic.

Ford grabbed the bag off the bed’s thick burgundy comforter and sauntered into the large bathroom, crooking his finger, a wicked smile on his lips, a devilish gleam in his eyes.

If the tabloids got hold of this story? Sophia hadn’t trusted a man in more than twenty years, yet she was giving Ford a veritable arsenal he could use against her. Of course, Ford had as much to lose as she did.

If Monday went against her, it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. But she’d have created a spectacular memory tonight.

She braced both hands on the bathroom doorjamb. “I already showered and did my

makeup and hair.”

“Which is why you look fantastic and your skin smells like luscious fruit—”

“Grapefruit lotion,” she offered.

“—but you’re still going to get in here and let me dress you, because I’ve dreamed about stripping you down.”

A flush rode up her skin. He knew the perfect thing to say, to do.

“Now, get in here,” he whispered.

And she let herself be seduced.

He positioned her with her back to the full-length mirror on one wall of the bathroom.

Ford had a thing about mirrors. Unzipping her sweat jacket, his thumb trailed down between her breasts; then he tapped the bridge of his nose. “Eyes on me.”

His words stole her breath, his gaze made her wet, his touch heated her flesh.

“I love the bra.”

Thin, see-through lace, it still kept her breasts high. Touch me. She wanted to beg. The man hadn’t even kissed her yet. When?

He pulled the tie of her sweatpants, and she understood why he wanted her looking at him. His nostrils flared as he shoved the material over the slight roundness of her belly, past her hips. His eyes darkened as her pubic curls flirted with the elastic of her thong, then popped free the farther he pushed. A muscle tightened along his jaw as he revealed her trimmed mound, teasing himself, tantalizing, before he suddenly covered everything with the satin thong again.

That was what he wanted, she knew, for her to drink in every nuance of his reaction to her body. It had the desired effect. She forgot her jitters and fell into the moment, into wanting him.

He had her down to bra and thong in one second.

“Christ,” was all he said.

It was more than enough as his gaze ate her up inch by inch. Then he reached in the bag.

“Stockings first.”

He turned her to the mirror, wrapped the garter belt around her waist, and clasped it at the small of her back. Her reflection was decadent, yards of bare skin, her eyes so dark she almost couldn’t distinguish her pupils, Ford behind her, head bent, brow furrowed in concentration. Then he raised just his eyes and captured her with a wicked grin.

Forevermore, only Ford’s face would play in her fantasies.

Turning her once again, he bent his knee and laid her foot upon it. “I can’t handle the stockings. Taking ’em off, fine, but putting them on”—he quirked an eyebrow—“it’ll be better watching you.”

By the time she had the silk in place, she was sure his breath came a little faster.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against her ear as he moved behind her to once again reach in the bag. “But now we have to cover up all that beauty.”

He held out the black skirt and she stepped into it, then, just as he’d done in the boutique dressing room, he reached his arms around her to undo the clasp of