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“Don’t be so eager to rush a beautiful thing, Miss Montgomery.”
“Val,” she corrected, her heart thumping like a rabbit’s. If this was happening, she couldn’t let it happen with him calling herMiss Montgomeryor, worse yet, Valentina. Not with his liquid, rich voice simply dripping with all the dirty things she presumed he could do to her—it was bringing to the surface something she wasn’t ready to explore. Not with him.
And yet, her thoughts were going in directions she couldn’t control, while she sat in the booth, heart thudding, mentally grasping at them as they floated beyond her fingertips into places that sent back heated, urgent images that took her breath away with their sensuality. His mouth on her neck, his lips on hers, the softness of his breath on her ear. His hands on her breasts, hips, bottom, thighs. Stroking. Exploring.
Gripping.
Her face bloomed with heat, and it left her body in the softest of exhales before hefinallykissed her. It was soft and heated and spicy with whiskey and honey sweet, all at once. His lips knew exactly where to go. First he explored her mouth with the tenderness of one who’d been a long-time lover, then to that pulsing hollow in her throat that had always left her a quivering mess and finally to her collarbone, dangerously close to the dip in her neckline—
“Desmond!” she gasped.
“I shouldn’t,” he said quietly against her skin. “I don’t think you’re the type to—”
“How would you know what type I am at all?” she said a little haughtily.
He made an amused sound without looking up. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”
He didn’t want any more interruptions to this, and when his mouth skittered up and to her lips again, she didn’t protest. She just sighed a little, tipped her head back, and lifted her arms to encircle his neck. He was kissing her more urgently now, muttering things she couldn’t quite understand, and then his mouth was at her ear again—
“You smell so damned good,” he rasped. She realized vaguely that he had stood up and was facing her now, hands resting on her thighs. She wanted to pull up her dress so she could draw him between her thighs—
“It’s all right,” she almost said. After all, he was shielding her, and the booth they were in was private and dark, but that would be ridiculous. As ridiculous as the fact that his fingers were tracing slow, lazy circles over that tender bit of skin between her stocking tops and her underwear, and she was incredibly close to letting out a whimper that she might not recover from. And there was still—
Hind!
She must have uttered the name out loud as she thought it, because Desmond pulled back abruptly. She noticed dimly that his breathing was ragged—she’ddone that to him, she thought, astonished. And from a few simple kisses. And despite their very public location, despite Hind, she didn’t want to move. To emerge from this little cocoon of lust they’d created would mean a forcible ejection back into the real world, one that might never allow the throbbing want she felt to bubble back up to the surface again.
How long had it been since she’d felt this near wild longing to be touched, kissed?
At least ten years.And it was happening now, and with a man who was significantly younger than her.
Thatwas sobering enough. Val cleared her throat and stood, taking a very large step sideways in order to move herself from Desmond’s immediate area of contact. He stood as well. His head was tilted and he was looking down at her, an odd half smile in place.
“Don’t spoil it by talking about how sorry you are for being so impulsive. Or say it was the champagne. Or tell me you never do this.”
She blinked. He’d taken the words right out of her mouth. He reached out with his long, slim fingers and touched her chin.
“Don’t be sad.”
She felt tears prick beneath her lids. She wasn’t sad. She waslonely. She was angry because the actions of one man had turned her life into this—a woman who was trying very hard not to romanticize kissing a stranger at least a decade younger than her in the basement of a club. And the fact that he’d recognized it so easily made her feel even worse.
“I’m not sad,” she whispered. “And you’re right. I never do this. And for very good reason, too.”
“Which is?”
Val lifted a hand to cradle the side of his face; he tilted his head so that it perfectly fit into the hollow of her palm. “Because kisses are bad for me,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I always end up paying for them, Desmond. I don’t want to do that with you.”
“Why? Are you afraid of getting attached?” His eyes were glittering in the dark.
“I used to be. Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“I met a man as handsome as you are.” His hands tightened at her waist. “Unfortunately, he turned out to be…not very nice.”
She felt his arm loosen and grow rigid. “Did he—?”
“No! Not that.” There was that prickling behind her lids again. “I just… I lost myself in him, Desmond. I got in so deep that I didn’t recognize who I was after a while. And I told myself that would never happen again. Not to me. And here I am, with you…”