Beautiful Stranger

interruptions, please.”
    With the door closed behind us, she turned to face me. “Two minutes.”
    “If pressed, I could get you off in two minutes.” I stepped forward, reaching out to brush my thumb along her hip. “But I think we both know that you’d like me to take longer.”
    “Two minutes to explain why you’re here,” she clarified, her voice shaking slightly. “And how you found me.”
    “Well,” I began, “I met this woman on Saturday. Fucked her against a wall, in fact. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. She was extraordinary. Beautiful, funny, sexy as hell. But she didn’t give me her name, and she left me with nothing but her knickers. That could hardly even be considered a trail of breadcrumbs.” I closed the distance between us, tucking her hair behind her ear and running my nose along the side of her jaw. “And when I came this morning, touching myself while thinking about how she felt, I still didn’t know what name to say.”
    Clearing her throat, Sara pushed me away, moving to the other side of her desk. “That doesn’t explain how you found me,” she said, cheeks flushed.
    I’d seen her under the strobe lights, head thrown back and eyes closed, but I wanted to see her bare, with the sunlight streaming in through her office windows. I wanted to know exactly how far that blush would spread down her body.
    I dropped the teasing bit a little. This Sara was so starkly different from the flirtatious Chicago transplant I’d met at the bar. “I happened to see you at lunch yesterday with Ben. We go way back. I simply put two and two together and hoped I’d see you again.”
    “You told Bennett about Saturday?” she hissed, and the flush I’d been admiring drained from her face.
    “God, no. I assure you, I don’t have a death wish. I just asked for your number. He refused.”
    Her shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “Okay.”
    “Look, it’s a coincidence that I saw you, and I’m coming off a bit strong by being here, but I did want to see Ben regardless. If you ever want to have dinner . . .” I dropped my card on her desk and turned to leave.
    “The video,” she said abruptly. “What did you do with it?”
    I turned back, and the urge to tease her became almost unbearable. But the longer I took to answer, the more panicked she appeared.
    Finally she broke. “Did you put it on YouTube or PornTube or whatever sites people use?”
    I burst out laughing, unable to keep it in. “What?”
    “Just please tell me you didn’t.”
    “God, of course not! I’ll admit I’ve watched it approximately seven hundred thousand times. But, no, I would never share it.”
    She looked down at her hands in front of her, picking at her fingernail. “Could I see it?”
    What was that in her voice? Curiosity? Something more?
    I moved around the desk to stand behind her. She was still tense but she leaned back against me, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. I pulled my phone from my jacket and found the video, pressing play and holding it up for her to see.
    With the volume up, the beat of the music played from the small speakers. She appeared on the screen, dancing with her arms above her head, and just like the first time I watched it in person, I felt myself begin to harden.
    “That right there,” I said against her neck, “is when you wondered whether I’d notice your dress hitching up. In’t it?” I pressed my hips against her backside, leaving no question as to what she was doing to me.
    I set my phone on the desk in front of her, placing my hand on her waist. “And there,” I said, nodding to the video again. She picked up my phone and looked at it more closely. “The way you looked at me over your shoulder, that’s my favorite part. That look on your face, it’s like you’re dancing just for me.”
    “Oh God,” she whispered. I hoped she was remembering what it felt like, what it was like to have me watch her.
    And then she picked up my hand and moved it slowly to the hem of her dress, which she lifted to her hip. Her skin was smooth beneath my palm, and I slipped my hand to her stomach, the muscles of her abdomen quivering under my touch.
    “ Were you dancing for me?” I asked, needing the reminder.
    She nodded, pushing my hand lower. Christ, this woman was a tangle of contradictions.
    “What else did you think about?” I asked. “Did you think about my face between your thighs, and my mouth?”
    She nodded again, biting her