Elizabeth - Page 44

Which wouldn’t happen if Elizabeth’s tight pussy was on my mind all damn night.

I couldn’t start developing feelings for her, no matter how natural it felt talking business with Cristoff with her at my side. Even if our time together was the single most sensual experience of my life, she was still paid to do this. Paid to give the experience. She was a professional, and that was why the moment had been so good, filled with a brief tenderness. She did this for men on a regular basis and had been able to perfect her craft within her industry, just like any other businessperson I knew. And at the end of the week, she would be gone.

That was the reality of it all.

I drew in a deep breath and allowed my icy demeanor to overcome my face—stoic and proud, with a hint of trepidation. I walked out into the living room and down the hallway, then knocked quickly on Elizabeth’s door.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Ten minutes,” I said.

“I’ll be out in seven.”

I stood by the floor-length windows and gazed out over Vienna, over a city that had thrown me for a loop. I clasped my hands behind my back and kept the clock on the wall within eyesight. We had to be on time. It didn’t look good for a man like myself to be late, not to functions like this. I heard heels clicking across the floor and sighed with relief. Seven minutes, on the nose.

But the second I turned around, all time stopped.

Elizabeth came around the corner in the most dangerous red high heels I’d ever seen on a woman, shining and not a scuff on them. Her legs flexed lewdly with every step she took, and my eyes trailed up the length of them, taking in the way her red dress cupped her body. It hugged all of her curves and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her hips blossomed in them, and her ass was rounded off by the soft fabric. Her flat stomach poured into voluptuous breasts I wanted to kiss and suckle on all damn night. The tight fabric sat off her shoulder, exposing her neck. It was accentuated with a delicate string of pearls that hugged close to her skin. Her smoky eye drew me in, and her crimson red lips curled up into a cute little grin I’d had the pleasure of seeing all week.

Elizabeth looked stunning.

It was a shame I wouldn’t get to see what was underneath that tight little dress of hers.

“I take it you’re ready,” I said.

“I am. Lead the way, Phillip.”

I drew in a sharp breath at her words. I offered her my arm, and she took it willingly, following my lead and falling into step with me. I guided her all the way to the car before we started to the party. And it was exactly what I figured we would walk into—people in fancy clothes with deep pocketbooks sipping on too much champagne. These things were always a bore, but they were required in order to network with the right kinds of people.

But where my boredom began, Elizabeth’s work started.

Every time I introduced her, she smiled and shook their hands. Then, she would find some sort of common ground with them that would give me a glimpse into the kind of woman she really was. For instance, I finally got to introduce myself to the head of the Royal Navy. I’d been trying to get a meeting with him to go over some implementations of a new software I had developed specifically for our allies for months. And within the span of five minutes, he and Elizabeth were talking about their piano skills: songs they had memorized, the first piece they had ever played. She made the man smile and laugh, then seamlessly transitioned him into a technical conversation with me.

“My fiancé here specializes in GPS software, and he’s developed something that I believe will be very useful for our allies in the coming years. Phillip?”

She had been listening to Cristoff and I talk over dinner that night. And it took me a second in my stunned state to gain my footing.

Not only did I meet the head of the Royal Navy, but I also met with Byron Brown, the largest tech mogul in all of Australia. He had an expertise in programming that spanned beyond anything I had found in the States, and I shook his hand promptly. And yet again, Elizabeth found common ground with him. Apparently, Byron spoke French. And so did Elizabeth. They held an entire conversation in the language right in front of me, laughing and smiling and relaxing into their environment. I was taken with her, with the way the language flowed off her tongue, with the way her crimson lips moved while her arm tightened around mine.

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