Best Erotic Romance of the Year by Kristina Wright

Author:Kristina Wright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Best Erotic Romance of the Year
ISBN: 9781627781145
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2015-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

THE COUCH

Malin James

Daphne drifted along the edge of the party, murmuring the odd hello. She hadn’t wanted to come, but her husband, Tom, the diplomat, had gently brought her round. Then he’d been called out of town, again, which is why she was going alone.

Annoyance compounded the ache in her head. This was the fourth time in three weeks he’d been suddenly called away. It was the nature of his work, she knew, but she missed him, especially at an event like this.

The dress she wore clung like a spill of dark chocolate as she moved from room to room with a glass of champagne dangling from her hand. She wasn’t in the mood—not for champagne, and not for parties. As soon as she’d greeted her hosts, she would make her excuses and leave. Nick and Kate were lovely. She was sure they’d understand.

A waiter with a tray of martinis stopped and offered her one. Gesturing at her untouched drink, Daphne shook her head. The last thing she wanted was a cocktail. What she wanted was a cup of tea and an orgasm before curling up in bed. Daphne thought of the vibrator in her bedside drawer and frowned. She missed Tom. She really did.

Salon. Music room. Hall. Daphne finally found her hosts—another diplomatic couple—in the library, after wandering through what felt like a game of Clue. Mrs. White in the ballroom with the razor-sharp wit… Daphne’s mouth quirked.

The library was surprisingly large for a residential home, even one so near the embassy. Brass reading lamps shed dim pools of light, while, above the fireplace, a nude gazed down at the massive leather couch. Daphne paused. That couch really was something—more of a bed really—and big enough to be just a touch indecent. Even to Daphne’s distracted eye there was something debauched about it, as if it had been made with no other purpose than to cradle naked flesh. Briefly, she wondered how often Nick and Kate fucked on that couch. Quite often, she suspected.

Daphne scanned the room. Nick and Kate were tucked off to the side, just beyond the light of a miniature Tiffany lamp. Nick’s hand, she noticed, was caressing Kate’s thigh beneath her pale beaded dress. Daphne raised a brow, suppressing a coil of envy. But before a thought could properly form, a man walked into the room.

He was tall—very tall—which Daphne noticed immediately, being quite tall herself. He was handsome in a sort of unexpected way, narrow and compelling, like a large, sleek cat, and his dinner jacket and tie were crisp, as if they’d just been pressed. But it was his eyes that fully engaged her. There was a sweetness to them, visible from across the room, that made her forget the vibrator in her drawer.

Tom, she thought. Her stomach flipped. He should have been in Singapore.

Daphne’s body began to hum, but she controlled the impulse to wave. He hadn’t called, which meant that he wanted to surprise her. She didn’t want to spoil it for him.

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