Out-Foxxed. Debra Webb

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Out-Foxxed - Debra  Webb

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wine and intelligent conversation were enough to make any girl happy for a few hours. But by 1 a.m., Sabrina was ready to go. And her hurry had nothing to do with the food or the place or the time.

      It was David.

      She hadn’t been this determined to take a man home with her in far too long to recall.

      Veronica and Wesley waved goodbye as they loaded into their taxi. David didn’t need to hail a cab because he had his own limo. He gave the driver Sabrina’s address before powering up the privacy shield.

      At thirty-two, and well experienced in the ways of the world Sabrina was not usually this easily impressed. But she had to admit, this guy had pushed all the right buttons.

      She wanted him.

      “Would you like a nightcap?” He gestured to the minibar as the luxurious vehicle smoothly rolled away from the curb.

      Sabrina moved her head slowly from side to side as she slid off first one shoe and then the other. There was only one thing she wanted right now.

      As if he’d been waiting all night for that single cue, David loosened his tie and shouldered out of his jacket. He ushered Sabrina down onto the seat and spread open her heavy faux fur coat. He kissed her nose and then her eyes before placing his lips firmly over hers. The kiss was slow, thorough and incredibly sexy. The fire, by contrast, did not start out slow and easy, it blazed instantly and roared out of control, making her greedy for more.

      He kissed his way down her throat and to the cleavage revealed by the low-cut dress. He smoothed his hands over her thighs and hips, and then he started to do things that drove her completely mad.

      Within sixty seconds of his first kiss, he had her coming fast and furiously and he hadn’t even unzipped his trousers.

      She came twice before they reached her building, David using nothing more than his skilled touch, his equally masterful kiss. He sent his driver home and they kissed some more as they entered her building. She didn’t remember how they managed the four flights to her floor, only the feel of his mouth and hands on her body. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed kissing so much. There was something so enticing about his mouth.

      Somehow they reached her apartment and she fumbled for the key. Once they were on the other side of that door, a desperate race to get naked started. By the time they fell onto the bed together, she was rushing toward climax yet again at the mere thought of finally having him inside her. She jerked open a drawer in her bedside table, fishing for a condom. He ripped open the package and slid on the protection sending her heart rate into triple digits just watching his hand slide over his hard, fully erect member.

      He moved over her and kissed her long and deep before nudging firmly between her thighs. She’d almost forgotten the incredible ecstasy of that first moment of penetration. He pushed his way inside and held very still until they’d both caught their breath.

      Then he started the frenzy all over again with his hands. The way he touched every place that longed for attention without her having to say a word was indescribably hedonistic, especially with that incredible sense of fullness where she needed it most. He massaged, licked and nuzzled her body while keeping his hips perfectly still. Every muscle in her body responded to his touch, begged for more.

      And then he moved. Flexed those lean, powerful hips in that age-old rhythm that sent her over the edge in two deep thrusts.

      Hours later, when he collapsed beside her she’d come no less than five times. A record.

      Completely exhausted and utterly sated for the first time in what felt like forever, she drifted in and out of sleep. David slept like the dead beside her. Not that she could blame him. He’d worked hard to give her those five lovely orgasms.

      Any man who could do that deserved plenty of rest.

      She got up and went to the kitchen in search of a bottle of wine. Standing naked at the fridge, she peered inside to see if there was anything that struck her fancy in the way of a snack. She grabbed the block of cheese and a bunch of grapes and prepared a small platter of snacks. Her lover might not wake up, but she was starved.

      With her bounty on a tray, she wandered back to the bedroom. She set the tray on the table by the window and then curled into the chair next to it. As she sipped her wine, she studied the man in her bed. She didn’t know that much about him except that his name was David Hedrick and he worked on Wall Street. Unlike Veronica, she wasn’t looking for commitment and certainly not for a husband, so no other details were especially essential.

      The dim glow from the lamp on the bedside table provided just enough illumination for her to appreciate his numerous assets. Her gaze slid over his tight buttocks and along his long legs. No. She didn’t need a husband or even a steady boyfriend. But sex, well, that was another story. She’d forgotten just how much she enjoyed it.

      It had been too long.

      The image of another man loomed in her head and she pushed it aside. She told herself her long abstinence had nothing to do with him, but she wasn’t entirely convincing. But he was in the past, over, gone. She wasn’t one to dwell in the past.

      She tipped her glass and emptied it in one long swallow. Sleep tugged at her, but she ignored it and poured herself another glass of wine. She intended to have at least two more before she let herself sleep. Otherwise she was sure to dream about that past she so badly wanted to forget.

      Maybe that was what tonight’s desperate lovemaking had been about.

      No, she argued. Tonight with David hadn’t been about the past. Tonight had been about her needs as a woman. Nothing else.

      The telephone rang. She heard the annoying clatter from the living room. She’d long ago turned off the ringer to the bedside extension. If work called, they used her cell phone, not her landline.

      She stood, grabbed the bottle of wine and trudged off to the living room to answer the call. If it was Veronica, then Sabrina might just have to kill her.

      After a long swallow directly from the bottle, Sabrina grabbed the receiver. “This better be good,” she threatened.

      Silence.

      Well, hell. “Hello?”

      More of that thick silence.

      She hated when this happened. When she started to hang up, she head the sound…a whisper of air as if someone had taken a breath.

      Dammit.

      “I know you’re there. If you don’t want me to hear you, then hold your breath.” She waited three more beats before she hung up.

      A quick glance at the clock confirmed her suspicions. 3:30 a.m. The call came at that same hour every time.

      And she knew it was him. She couldn’t prove it, of course. But she knew.

      Damn him.

      Eric Drake. The Dragon.

      The mere thought of his name sent shivers chasing one another over her skin.

      She had worked hard to put him behind her, to get over him, but the wound had never completely closed. She’d let him so deep inside her that she wasn’t sure it was humanly possible to

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