Free Combustion by Elia Winters Page B

distracting long fingers on his thigh, thinking. “Also, I’d like to take you to dinner.”
    Astrid blinked, taken aback. “What?”
    â€œDinner. You and I.” He gestured between them. “A meal, in public, where we can get to know each other a little better.”
    What was he playing at? “Just dinner?”
    Eli cocked his head to the side as if confused. “Yes, just dinner. We’re business partners now and I don’t know anything about you. Can I pick you up here tomorrow evening at seven?”
    His invitation seemed innocuous, so why did she feel disarmed? “All right.”
    He thought a moment, then added, “Also, it’ll be somewhere nice.”
    Oh, he was worried about her embarrassing him? She narrowed her eyes, trying to rein in her sudden irritation. “I’ll try to refrain from whoring myself out in public, then.”
    Eli’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just wanted you to know in case you were wondering what to wear. I’m sorry if I offended you.” His concern was so sincere that Astrid was taken aback again. She couldn’t get her bearings in this conversation.
    â€œIt’s all right.” What could she do but forgive him?
    After gathering up his coat, Eli waited with his hand on the doorknob. “Thank you for the tea and the tour. It was very enlightening.” He pressed his lips to her hand as always, lingering for a moment. Then, before she’d even registered that he had drawn away, with a turn of the doorknob, he was gone.
    For a long moment after he’d left, she stared at the closed door, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She’d made a business of understanding women, learning what they wanted and how to give it to them. Men had always been straightforward–fun for sex, for companionship, but predictable and uninteresting. It had been a long time since she’d met a man who puzzled her, and the puzzle made her want him like she seldom wanted anyone.
    She needed to figure out Eli Rutledge.

Chapter Twelve
    When the hansom cab pulled up in front of his building, it took Eli almost a full minute to realize he had arrived home. He’d been so distracted by thinking of Astrid and her felicitation devices that he continued to sit on the plush leather seat, staring at the empty bench opposite him, until the driver swung the door open and peered in. “We’re here, sir.”
    After paying the man, Eli continued into his flat, still walking through a mental fog. He lived on the other side of the city proper, his brownstone a fair bit larger and more nicely appointed than Astrid’s. No surprise, since she wasn’t even a shop owner. Maybe not a shop owner, but definitely a business owner. That cheeky woman had taken his back massager and turned it into…
    A fucking machine . In his mind, he heard her say it, her full lips wrapping around the words with only the slightest blush. Watching her smile, he could imagine the way she would look in the throes of pleasure, her composed exterior yielding to her primal, wanton instincts.
    His cock throbbed against the confining fabric of his trousers. This wouldn’t do. After pausing a moment to turn on the lights in his flat, he headed into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He drew the curtains across his large windows, blocking off the sunlight, and lay back on his bed.
    Astrid was the only thing on his mind as he unfastened the buttons on his trousers and freed his erection. Closing his eyes, he imagined her small, deft fingers wrapping around his cock, rather than his own hand. He let the fantasy take over.
    Astrid straddled his thighs to look down at him, and one hand squeezed his shaft while the other cupped his sac. She wouldn’t be tentative; she would know exactly what to do. After a few long, smooth strokes, she began to tease the head, her thumb tracing back and forth along his slit, spreading