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“Fused Realmsis one of my favorite bands.”
His mouth compressed. “As long as you don’t throw your panties at anyone, I’ll try not to lose my shit.”
Leia wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not.
“The masked ball in Prague or the private zero-gravity chamber in Cannes?” He looked at her, his eyes predatory and all-consuming. “Do you like the idea of getting fucked in zero gravity, baby?”
Laughter bubbled up beneath all the crazy hyperawareness. “I can honestly say it’s never occurred to me. Is that even possible?”
“We can certainly give it our very best shot.” He clicked the button to add it to their itinerary and moved to the next one.
“If you want, we can add a couple more? Private villa or private boat in Bermuda?”
The rod of tension lanced too quickly for her to disguise it. Those astonishingly perceptive blue eyes started to narrow. Breathing out, she forced her body to relax. “Villa, please. I don’t like boats.”
“Sea sickness?”
“Something like that.” She deliberately kept her tone light and scrambled to banish the ugly images that threatened to flood her mind.
His expression told her he’d noticed her evasion. But he nodded. “Villa it is.” He entered the request and glanced back at her, his eyes zeroing in on her mouth. “Shall we leave the rest for later?” he murmured, his head dropping closer.
Reading his intent, her breath evaporated from her lungs. She started to nod and remembered his warning.
“Yes.”
He pressed another button and soft R&B wafted through the suite. The beats held enough of a throb to vibrate through her body. Or maybe it was just her heartbeat going into overdrive at the thought of kissing Noah King again.
Whatever.
Anticipation inundated her as his lips touched hers. This kiss was different from the first. For one thing, she hadn’t given herself the time to stop freaking out about the electrifying effect of his mouth before she’d bit him.
His tongue traced the outline of her mouth and breached her open lips to graze over her teeth. She barely managed to curb the overwhelming need to bite him again.
What the heck was wrong with her? When had the thought of bitinganyonebecome a turn-on? But she’d bitten this man. And he’d bled.
She touched the tip of her tongue to the tiny cut on his lip. His shudder echoed hers.
He broke away and stared at her, his breathing harsh and uneven. Pure, unadulterated lust arced between them, setting off sparks she could almost see dancing in the air.
“God.” She realized she’d vocalized the wonder burning inside her.
He nodded once. “You see how this could never be light between us, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said huskily.
His hand crept over her nape and gripped her harder as he pressed closer. Sprawling back against the seat, he tugged her over him until she straddled him.
He explored every exposed inch of her. Her neck. Her arms. The small of her back bared by her forward-tilted stance. She gasped with each touch of his warm, rough hands.
Then his hand circled her throat again. That possessive, powerful hold did things to her she couldn’t coherently describe. It was a statement of control, of ownership that was also oddly soothing. He pressed gently, until she could feel each heartbeat through his fingers.
Any thought that she would be in control in any way because she was on top evaporated when his other hand curved over her waist, imprisoning her against him.
Slowly, he pulled her down and took her mouth again. But this time he controlled the kiss. He gave her just enough to make her whimper shamelessly.
“Please.”
He gave in to her plea, deepened the kiss, let her hands wander feverishly over his chest and shoulders. Her fingersspeared through his silky dark hair before he pulled his mouth from hers with a deep groan. “Jesus, baby. Kissing you is like standing in a field in the middle of a fucking lightning storm.”