Say It Ch 01

When she entered the bar, she saw him immediately. He was sitting at a small, bistro table, one hand absently playing with a matchbook, his coat hanging on the back of his chair. He spotted her and immediately his attention narrowed, sharpened, as she walked toward the table. He stood as she arrived, pulling out her chair, and she felt a sudden rush of dizziness looking into his intense brown eyes. She licked her lips, then said, "I'm Cassandra Owens," reaching out her right hand.

He grasped it firmly in his own, "Edward McClair." She dropped her gaze and sat, flipping nervously through the menu, and paying no attention to anything it said. When she raised her head, she found him still watching her, and she blushed--embarrassed by his silent gaze and by the fluttering in her stomach.

The appearance of the waitress was a welcome relief. She ordered a vanilla latte, hoping it's familiarity would ease her nervousness.

As she spoke to the waitress, she could feel his eyes on her. More than that, she could feel his intensity--as if his every cell were reaching in her direction...straining toward her...expecting--she shook her head slightly then looked into his eyes. Inwardly, she began to quiver, and she lowered her hands to her lap, so he couldn't see them shaking. After a moment, she felt herself falling back on something lighter and familiar. She said impudently to him, "So, does anyone call you Ed? Or how about Eddy?"

He didn't smile at her flip question. Nor did he break her gaze. He simply said, in a voice that was deep and dark and warm, "You will call me Edward."

She felt as if she'd just swallowed the most potent espresso. His voice slid through her, heating her from her lips to her throat down to her belly gathering between her hips. Her nipples became hard and her thighs shivered. Her face warmed and she held her hands together more tightly to stop their trembling. "Alright," she agreed softly with a slight nod, not entirely trusting her voice.

Instantly her acquiescence overwhelmed her. All her feminine sensors were overloading. She blinked, moving her eyes back down to the coffee in front of her. Her right hand lifted to nervously stir the already well-mixed brew, and she tried to take three deep breaths as unobtrusively as possible. She was so focused on regaining her composure that she was startled when his hand touched hers.

He covered her hand with his own, and turning it over, began rubbing the palm with the pad of his thumb. All her efforts at composure were gone. Her thoughts scattered. No quick retort or flippant comment came to mind. Heat swept through her body. She knew she was blushing, but she didn't care. Her only thought was how dangerously warm his hand felt... she wanted that feeling all over.

"Say it," he said, immediately drawing her attention back to his eyes.

She looked at him, eyes wide and dazed and unwittingly communicating her every thought to him.

"Say it," he urged in that velvet voice.

She understood what he meant. She could read it in his eyes. She took a shaky breath, wondering if she could speak at all. Then, opening her mouth, in a husky voice she barely recognized as her own, she said, "Edward."

"Once more," he compelled.

"Edward," she intoned, as if tasting the word.

"Very good." He smiled with male satisfaction. "Remember that," he said.

She nodded, no longer able to speak. His thumb had moved from her palm to her sensitive inner wrist. It slid slowly back and forth, stopping occasionally to confirm that her pulse was indeed racing. With his other hand, he moved her cup and saucer to the side, then leaned across the table to her. His eyes came closer and closer, until he tilted his head to whisper in her ear, "And I will call you sweetness because that's what I will taste when I put my mouth on you."

She gave a small gasp, but had no time to respond or to even think, because suddenly, he was standing, still holding her with one hand, and reaching in his pocket with the other to lay some bills on the table. He pulled her from her seat and led her out of the warm little bistro into the dark cold streets.

The ice on the road shimmered under the street lamps. She closed her eyes, trying to help them adjust--trying to help herself adjust to what just happened. She was an intelligent, articulate, no bullshit woman, and in the space of minutes, she'd been rendered speechless by this mysterious man. She looked down at the hand surrounding hers, suddenly realizing that he'd led her to his car.

He took her around to the passenger side and she noticed the intricately patterned layer of frosted snow on the window. Instead of immediately opening the door, he released her hand, crowding closer behind her. Slowly, he lifted her hair. She sighed a long slow visible breath into the wintry night as she sensed his head move in even closer. When she felt his lips hovering over her nape, she lifted her bare hands, placing the fingertips on the window. He pressed warm lips against her neck, and she pressed her hands against the window, then gasped at the contrast of hot and cold.

His hands rested on her hips, warming through her skirt and panties all the way to her skin. He stepped one foot between hers as his lips moved to the side of her neck. She felt herself becoming molten, her breath quickening, her nipples hardening, the fine hair on her arms lifting into goose bumps. His mouth slide up to her earlobe, his hands deepening their hold on her hips as her knees weakened. His breath was hot against her ear as he commanded, "Say it."

She swallowed, understanding him perfectly, then licked her lips before softly moaning, "Edward...."

"Very good, Sweetness," he said, licking softly and slowly behind her ear. He whispered, "You taste of vanilla and honey," then lifted his head, released her hips, and opened the car door.

She fell gratefully into the seat, legs shaking, unconsciously reaching to demurely arrange her skirt. He shut the door with a click, and walked around the front of the car. She raised a hand to her hair, nervously fussing with it. He moved into the driver's seat and started the engine, then reached across her, his arm grazing her breasts as he pulled her seat belt across her to its metal clasp. Cassandra started with surprise, then turned, gazing at the "Coffee All Night" sign slide by through the hand prints she'd pressed into the icy window.