Would his wife have done that too?

(permalink) Book cover: A White man with scruffy facial hair kisses the cheek of an Asian woman. About Henry: A Novella by JL Peridot

“Let me tell you about Henry. I could get fired for this, but what the hell.”

Julie was perfectly fine, admiring the rich American Henry Aston from afar. That is, until he asked her out to dinner. But there’s just one problem: CapriLuxe Perth has a strict policy against employees fraternising with the guests.

Sorry, two problems: Henry Aston’s married.

Well, he was sure making matters simple now. The hurdles were clear. We were good to go. It was too convenient, really. You might call it “fate”; I call it—well, I don’t know what I call it.

But I wanted it, wanted him. Yet still, I hesitated. This wasn’t me. I mean, I flirted, but rarely converted. If a guy showed interest, I tended to let him lead the way.

But it was all arse-backwards this time. Henry opened the door here, but now he was waiting for me to lead us through. What made him so sure that I would? What if I didn’t? He’d be going back empty-handed to his lonely hotel room.

I guess that’s what made him so attractive. That he didn’t seem bothered by it. That he wasn’t pushy. He wasn’t exactly aloof, but he didn’t come with that air of needing this to happen at whatever cost. Was this even about sex for him, or just being open to a good time? His honesty was refreshing, and—

Damn, I was over-thinking it. I grabbed his face and stood on my toes for a kiss.

It wasn’t magic. But it was hot. Soft and inviting, a symphony of texture: my palms on his stubble; his lips on my lips; the wet roughness of his tongue on mine. It drew me in and I fell into him. He took my weight with his body, one hand on the back of my neck, the other travelling down my back and pulling me towards him.

He hardened beneath me. I pressed against him as he pressed me against the railing. Another car careened past down below, but we remained entangled. When he touched me again, I wondered what the skin felt like elsewhere on his body. I saw myself unbuttoning his shirt and pressing my forehead to his chest. I’d lick out lines like a pencil drawing and bite the soft flesh where his shoulder meets his pecs. Would his wife have done that too? The thought was making me prickle all over.

Read the rest in About Henry: A Novella

Is it hot in here or what?

This post is part of a steamy blog hop. Think you can handle it?