The Mandy Project Page 5

  “Let’s dance!” she said. Then she flicked open the three pink buttons at the top of her dress, revealing the edges of a daring white lace bustier underneath. She’d bought it the year she’d gone to Jane’s Halloween party as Madonna and knew it gave her serious cleavage, which she’d just revealed.

  She looked up in time to catch her date’s wide eyes and nervous swallow. “Mandy…” he chided her.

  But Mindy only strode confidently onto the dance floor, yelling over her shoulder, “Come on Benton, loosen up, have some fun. Let’s party!”

  “Party?” he yelled back, tentatively following.

  Benton felt like he’d just been hit by a truck. One minute things had been going great, then the next, he’d been yanked off the street and thrust into the center of several hundred undulating bodies. And Mandy had just undone what he’d thought were merely decorative buttons to reveal…what appeared to be truly incredible breasts! The tight thing she wore underneath shoved them together and up and…well, if he’d been mildly aroused during dinner, it compared nothing to the instant response in his pants now.

  Without warning, Mandy turned to face him, having apparently decided they’d reached the right spot on the floor, then threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body flush against his. She swayed and gyrated against him, which forced him—however stiffly—to sway and gyrate, too, although he never made the conscious choice to do so. He hadn’t danced to music like this since college. And he’d never particularly missed it or hoped to do it again, but…the woman in front of him just felt far too good moving her curves against him to put up much of a fight.

  As the Blondie tune faded, another old dance song began—“You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate—and Mandy suddenly backed away from him to—oh God—start doing very enticing things with her lithe little body. She watched only him as she danced, although numerous male eyes now followed her.

  Her every move screamed sex, her breasts shimmying and straining against the lacy fabric, her hips moving in a liquid rhythm. Then, as if she hadn’t excited him enough already, she let her hands descend slowly over her breasts just before inching splayed fingers down the front of her thighs until they played at the hem of her skirt. She eased it upward, gradually, teasingly, until he glimpsed the tops of her thighs.

  Part of him didn’t want to be here, watching this. It felt more foreign to him than being in another country, another universe. He’d never been attracted to this kind of a woman—the wild, uninhibited, anything-goes type—and he had no idea what had happened to the sweet yet sophisticated lady he’d just had dinner with. He should demand she stop dancing and take her home.

  But on the other hand, she was driving him mad with lust. He was only flesh and blood, after all. Blood which, at the moment, was gathering in all the right places.

  Without warning, something unfamiliar and almost dangerous-feeling grabbed Benton and drove him forward.

  He reached out and hauled her against him, until they were moving together to the rhythm, hot and sexy.

  At this point, he had to wonder if he even knew what he wanted in a woman. Yet at the moment, he was almost past caring about his ideas of the perfect wife, past caring about anything but the hot desire vibrating through him. He’d never thought he wanted this, but maybe he did!

  Mindy was equally lost—to the music, the man, the heat and excitement pumping through her veins. Hungry for more, she instinctively pressed her thigh between his to discover that—oh my—he’d become a column of solid rock there.

  Wake up call!

  As difficult as it was, she disengaged herself from him and took a big step back. But she didn’t quit dancing, couldn’t quit dancing—couldn’t even quit giving him what she feared was a look brimming with blatant sexual invitation.

  Oh brother—her whole plan had gone awry. Her wild public display was supposed to be freaking Benton out, turning him off, totally ruining his image of her. He was supposed to be outraged and embarrassed, dragging her out of the nightclub to his car, then dropping her at her doorstep while he said something like, Good riddance! He was supposed to be learning a lesson—that a woman couldn’t be categorized by a list of traits.

  But instead, that incredible hardness had grown between his legs, and his eyes glimmered with wild abandon, and he was dancing—dancing, for heaven’s sake! And the little bit of perspiration that edged his now slightly unkempt hair somehow made him all the more sexy, all the more…human, to Mindy.

  And perhaps even more startling than his reaction to this was her own. She’d never dreamed she could dance like this in public—or even in private—without totally humiliating herself. With what she supposed was, technically, her underwear showing, too! It had been a desperate move to turn the evening’s tide, but she’d thought she was far too mature to act like this and actually enjoy it.

  Nonetheless, she found herself thrilled to be dancing with this gorgeous and surprisingly unpredictable man. And she was just as thrilled—although in a different way—to know she’d aroused him. It made her feel sexy and desirable in a way she never had before. The Mandy she’d unveiled at dinner—the Mandy who’d let him order for her, who’d hung on his every word—that had been mostly an act. But the frightening truth was, maybe this side of Mandy wasn’t an act; maybe it was just a part of herself she’d never before encountered.

  So as the retro music played on, one classic seventies dance hit dissolving into another, they danced. Sometimes she ended up pressed close against him, other times she found the will to pull back. Yet even then, their gazes kept them connected, and she simply let herself become absorbed in the pure, sexy fun of it all; she didn’t think she’d ever felt so free.

  When the slower and very sensuous rhythm of the old Rufus song, “Tell Me Something Good,” pumped through the already-heated air, Benton drew her snug against him. They swayed together and she looked into his eyes and heard herself singing slightly suggestive lyrics. His hands glided from her hips down lower, cupping her bottom as she bit her lip and murmured the next line.

  “Mmm,” he breathed hotly in her ear, and then she felt his kiss, whispery soft on her neck. The tiny titillation sent shivers all through her and she turned her face to his. The kiss he brushed across her lips then was just as gentle, just as fleeting, just as tantalizing.

  “Kiss me more,” she heard herself whisper, unplanned.

  His mouth sank onto hers with slow greed and she kissed him with all the passion that had likely been hibernating inside her for years. Without forethought, she pushed her tongue into his mouth and sent heat spiraling through them both.

  This was wrong—so wrong. Her behavior had been intended to appall him, not entice him. But right and wrong seemed distant ideas at the moment, and only Benton’s mouth, only his hands and his body, seemed relevant.

  As he broke the kiss, his breath came warm on her neck. “Let’s get out of here, go to my place.”

  Abort! Abort! Every alarm inside her body went off, screaming at her to do something to keep this situation from getting anymore out of control. Turn and run! Leave him behind and forget this night ever happened! Leave Mindy to pick up the pieces and make your excuses! Nothing was more important than getting away from him, immediately.

  She braced her hands on his broad shoulders, drawing back from him, but he gently curled one hand around her neck, halting her retreat.

  “Benton, I…” She gazed into his hungry eyes, sparkling beneath the glittering reflections of the disco ball overhead, and couldn’t think how to turn him down, how to explain after all they’d just shared.

  When she hesitated, though, he tenderly grazed his fingertips downward, lower, lower, until they paused, lingering on the exposed ridge of her left breast. “What is it, honey?”

  She swallowed, determined to try again. “I…” Then she dropped her glance to his fingers, aching for more of his touch. “I…want to go to bed with you.”

  Chapter Four

  As they made the tense drive
to Benton’s house, Mindy occasionally caught him studying her through the car’s darkness, illumined only by the dashboard lights. His eyes filled with heat, anticipation, and maybe even a little apprehension that this was happening so fast. But she also witnessed a sureness there, a certainty that thrilled her.

  Of course, more than once, she sensed a niggling little miniature version of herself perched on her shoulder, screaming, Stop this! Are you crazy? Each time, though, she mentally reached up and brushed it away. She couldn’t think about anything right now besides Benton and how much she wanted him.

  His hand enclosed hers as he led her from the circular drive fronting his stately home, and they practically ran up the stone steps to the double doors, Mindy’s heart pounding a hard, insistent rhythm in her chest. Upon entering a foyer large enough to create an echo, Benton looked down at her, eyes blazing with the same passion that coursed through her veins. “Do you, uh, want a tour of the house?”

  She widened her gaze bluntly on his. “Only of your bedroom.”

  Sheesh, Mandy had no shame! But being so utterly forward tripled Mindy’s already increased pulse, especially when Benton gave her a sexy looks-like-we’re-on-the-same-page smile. “This way.”

  Leading her up a palatial curving staircase and down a dark, plush hallway, he released her hand to thrust open the double doors at the corridor’s end. The enormous oaken bed inside suited the house’s size and looked good for rolling around in. Mindy had never been much of an acrobat in bed, but she had the funny feeling Mandy might be.

  Benton turned toward her to lift one palm to her face and, peering up at him, she got lost in his gaze. Drat—maybe a part of her had thought the time spent traveling from the nightclub would cool the heat between them, bring her back to her senses, but that wasn’t happening.

  “You’re beautiful.” His deep, throaty voice spiraled through her, twisting her desire into an even tighter knot just waiting to unwind and explode.

  “Benton,” she said, her own speech coming breathy and anxious, “I want you to know I don’t usually do this, don’t usually sleep with someone on the first date.”

  He gave his head a light shake. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Really?” She’d assumed a rigid, old-fashioned guy like him would still believe in the double standard, and this only further proved that he was far more evolved than she’d ever thought possible.

  He slanted her a playful grin. “Of course, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you don’t.” Then the smile faded to an earnest expression. “It makes me feel special.”

  Her voice quivered as she pressed her palms to his chest. “You are special.” Then, just like back at the club, her desire broke through the thin dam of her defenses to flow rough and hot and uncontrollable, and she couldn’t wait another grueling second. “Oh, Benton!” Flinging her arms around his neck, she drew him forcibly into a kiss, the heat of his mouth swirling through her like liquid lightning.

  Things moved quickly then. His firm kisses intensified as his hands molded to her curves. She moaned when his touch passed over her breast, then she fought to loosen his tie, grapple at the buttons on his crisp white shirt. He deftly unzipped her dress and pushed it from her shoulders.

  Resting his hands at her waist, he looked down at the bustier clamped around her torso. “How do I get you out of this?”

  “From the back.” She spun to offer up the small hooks and suddenly found herself looking into a dresser mirror, Benton behind her.

  Their eyes connected briefly before he dropped a slow, sensuous kiss to her bare shoulder, then moved his hands to the fasteners. Within seconds, the confining piece of lingerie loosened around her, freeing her, until it fell away completely, leaving her bared before both their eyes.

  An expectant heat rose to his cheeks as he studied her breasts, and when his hands rose to cup them, any lingering shreds of anxiety inside her faded to nothing. She met his gaze in the mirror. “Don’t go slow.”

  Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. And it turned out her first thought about the piece of furniture was accurate—they rolled wildly on the soft mattress as they struggled to remove each other’s clothing. He stripped away her dress and panties; she stripped away his attire and left him naked as well.

  His hands moved across her skin with unparalleled skill, and she gazed into his eyes the whole time, deepening their connection, and the level of intimacy. The pink dress and bustier now lying on the carpet belonged to Mandy, and so did the blonde hair Mindy prayed would stay snugly in place even if she did choose to get a little acrobatic. But when he peered into her eyes…well, those belonged to Mindy alone, and it somehow made the moment seem a little more real, as if it was really about her, not about someone she’d just randomly, recklessly invented.

  When he lifted one hand to her hair, she flinched.

  “What’s wrong? Did I pull—”

  “No, just…a little nervous.” Which was not completely a lie. She had plenty of things to be nervous about at the moment, even if sex with Benton wasn’t among them. About that she was nothing but eager.

  His expression filled with adoration. “No need for that. Just let me make you feel good.”

  And then—oh!—he was inside her and her world transformed into something far sweeter, hotter, more fulfilling than it had ever been before. It was like finding a piece of herself that had always been missing, the connection profound.

  As he thrust deep inside her, her hips rose to meet his, welcoming every powerful drive. She’d heard woman talk about this—sex so mindblowing that it made your eyes roll back in your head, that it was like an out-of-body experience. Only, no, that wasn’t accurate—she was definitely in her body right now, soaking up everything Benton Maxwell III delivered. She gave herself over it—a complete surrender—until finally tumbling into a bliss unlike any she’d ever experienced.

  And then…then…oh, it still felt good. Heavenly. Even after the most sublime orgasm of her life, she wanted more and more of him. She clutched at his neck as he moved inside her. She wrapped her legs around him. She never wanted it to end.

  She was in way too deep here; she knew that. But right now, there was only Benton, his body, his mouth, his sexy whispers. There was only Benton, making love to her—not Mandy but Mindy.

  Hours later, Mindy awakened from a sweet sleep and turned on her pillow to study the gentle expression on the face of the man sleeping next to her.

  Then she shot upright in bed. What have I done?

  Okay, she’d had marvelous, stupendous sex with Benton Maxwell. Three times, in fact. But what had she been thinking? She must have been out of her mind! And then it hit her. She had been out of her mind—she’d been in someone else’s mind, someone imaginary, no less. Talk about your evil twin. And that stuff about him looking into her eyes, not Mandy’s, making love to her, not Mandy—hooey. Every bit of it was just romantic hogwash she’d invented to try and make what she was doing seem a little less heinous.

  She glanced back at him, biting her lip. Oh no. She’d slept with this sweet, wonderful, passionate man, and she’d let him think she was someone she wasn’t, someone he could love. She was evil. Scum of the earth. Scum of the entire solar system. There was no point in denying it; she knew it better than she knew her own name. Whatever that was. It had been challenging to keep it straight the last few hours.

  Well, there was only one thing to do now. Sneak out.

  Hardly honorable, but that ship had already sailed.

  Easing from the bed, she gathered her hastily removed clothing and purse, then slipped into the bathroom, gently closing the door. Earlier, she’d located the number of a local cab company on her cell phone, thinking maybe she’d need a ride home after she repulsed Benton with her anti-Mandy act, but never in her wildest nightmares had she imagined placing the call from his bathroom, naked. She was only glad to live in a time of such conveniences or she might instead have been stuck stealing Benton’s Mercedes.
Which she’d have done if she had to—desperation to escape this impossible situation consumed her.

  After making the call, she hurried into her clothes, then dug a pen and notepad from her purse. Thank you for a beautiful evening, she wrote before skulking back into the bedroom and swiftly, quietly placing the slip of paper on his bedside table. Then she crept toward the door.

  Upon pausing to look back at his sleeping form, however, her heart swelled. She knew already that the memories of sharing his bed tonight would haunt her thoughts daily, and her dreams nightly, for a long time to come—yet memories were all she could have of him.

  And she wished she could return to his side, gently kiss his cheek, tell him goodbye in some better way than her silly note. But she couldn’t wake him, couldn’t even risk it, so she forced back her emotions and whispered in the darkness. “Goodbye, Benton. I’m so sorry.”

  Sun blasted through the split in the draperies and onto Benton’s face. Letting out a frustrated growl, he rolled over, reaching to curl one arm around the sexy woman at his side.

  Just one problem. His arm only landed on a limp pile of sheets, disheveled from sex. He opened his eyes to discover that, sure enough, he was alone in the bed, same as any other morning.

  He hadn’t dreamed it, had he?

  No. No way. His subconscious wasn’t capable of such feats.

  “Mandy? Honey, where are you?”

  Probably in the bathroom. Women loved bathrooms, he had observed. Only she never answered, so he yelled again, louder this time, deciding maybe she’d ventured down to the kitchen, seeking out breakfast. Sharing morning coffee with her sounded appealing, but…he didn’t smell any brewing. And still no answer came, leaving him surrounded by the echoing silence of his large, empty home.

  Rising up on one elbow, he was just about to go looking for her when he spied a note on the table beside him and reached for it. It took a long moment to believe—to accept—that she was actually gone, but slowly, surely, a sinking feeling grew in his stomach. He was alone. Like always.