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He poured another drink, craving the blur it
made of his memory. Halfway to his lips, he paused. An
unfamiliar tingle skated along the back of his neck.
Glancing around the establishment, he found himself focusing
on a woman he didn’t recognise or recall entering. She sat
with another but he couldn't look away from her.
She had skin that reminded him of hot
chocolate, with some whipped cream blended in. Lickable.
Black hair drawn up and away from her face in a ponytail, it
fell down to almost her shoulder blades. A low, purely
animalistic reaction hit him square in the gut. His cock
sprang to attention and he was halfway out of the booth
before he realised it.
He sat back down, continuing to stare
unabashedly at her. He could see she wore an ice blue
crossover top. All he longed to do was trail the straps with
his tongue and see where it would lead. Discover her taste,
her smell.
Her head fell back and her laughter—he
assumed it was laughter by the smile on her and the other
woman’s face—seemed to add to the glow about her. He scowled
when two rather large men blocked his view.
Draining his drink, he pushed to his feet and
headed over there. It made absolutely no sense, especially
for not having even been introduced to her, how possessive
he felt towards this mystery woman. He came up around them
and immediately his gaze honed in on her.
Yes, definitely lickable. And biteable.
She had full, kissable lips, a small adorable
nose, and large eyes which sat framed by thick, curved
lashes. A punch to his solar plexus had him sucking for air
when she pinned her gaze on him. Those eyes were killers,
multihued like a tortoiseshell, and he felt himself
willingly falling in.
He glanced at the other two men, moved his
gaze on to the second woman before settling once more on his
woman. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question or a request,
but that was his way.
She stared at him, her unique eyes assessing
and he fought the urge to shift when he believed she saw
past the outer shell. A slight grin lifted the corners of
her lush mouth.
“Sure.” Her voice fell smooth, thick, and
rich like honey.
She slid from the booth and he held his
ground so she would have to brush against him. A plan that
didn’t work as he’d planned. His cock was ready to punch
free at the tantalising sweep of her full breasts across his
chest.
“Let’s go,” she said with a smile that made
him think about thrusting his shaft in and out of her mouth.
Gesturing for her to lead the way, he
followed the seductive sway of her hips, which were draped
in a tight, white leather skirt. He groaned and dragged his
gaze down and over long, lean legs and her fuck-me heels the
same colour of her shirt.
Fuck!
He almost lost it right then and there. So he
lengthened his stride to catch up to her. With those sexy
heels, she would fit just right against him. He guessed her
height without heels to be about five-seven.
She tossed her head and rotated back to him.
Her gaze took another trip along his body and he bit back
his responding groan. The music changed to a slow, sultry
ballad. Her eyes showed her hesitation and he reached out to
draw her close before she left him standing there.
A flirtatious smile lifted her lips as she
willingly came closer to him. Her bare arms slipped around
his neck and he took a shuddering breath when she pressed
tight against him. Ignoring the fire in his blood, he placed
his hands at her waist, fingers grazing the small of her
back.
“What’s with guys and issuing demands? You
could have asked me to dance, you know.”
He slid his hands around to cup her ass,
bringing her flush to his blatant erection. “You could have
said no.”
“I get the feeling that isn’t a word you hear
very often.”
It was true. His call sign wasn’t Casanova
without good reason. “Not too much.”
Her fingers stroked along the back of his
neck. He felt on fire, both inside and out. Each step took
them closer to the edge of the dance floor. By the time the
song ended, the two of them were in a darker hallway.
He lowered his head, giving her half a second
to stop him. She didn’t. Her mouth met his. She played the
aggressor, sliding her tongue in and around his. Lust blazed
to life in him and he ground into her, making his desire
very clear. She moaned a sexy sound —it came from the back
of her throat and moved through him like electricity.
His grip on her grew possessive as he took
control of the kiss. She tasted like mint. Not peppermint or
spearmint. Raw mint. Pure mint. It was addictive as hell and
he couldn’t get enough. The feel of her against him, the
taste of her, together it lessened the pain which had
consumed him since the accident.
He tore his mouth from hers and nibbled his
way down her neck. Her gasp of pleasure coinciding with how
she tilted her head to give him better access spurred him
on. It didn't matter they were in a busy bar hallway. All
that mattered was her. And sinking his hard length fully
within her molten heat.
His hands began moving beneath her short
skirt, seeking his prize. She pushed on him and he drew back
to glance down at her. Flushed. Passionate. Delectable. |
