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He envisioned what they looked like: white, delicate, and slightly see-through. Then he was inside them, his middle finger tracing her backside. He stayed there, eliciting a satisfying shudder from her, then squeezed, fingertips digging gently into her firm, round flesh.
She felt good. Really good.
He dipped a little lower.
Heat. His breath caught. He clamped down on the urge to go farther, but God, so soon, and she was ready for him.
No, not yet. He took his hand away.
Swiftly, he scooped her up into his arms. Her hands slid easily around his neck, and she laid her head on his shoulder, letting him carry her as if he’d done this with her a hundred times. She lifted her face to his as if expecting to be kissed, and when he didn’t respond, she leaned in and licked his Adam’s apple.
His eyes widened. He bent to place her on the bed, and as he did so, she did it again.
A startled laugh almost escaped him, but he bit it back.
Oh, he would enjoy her thoroughly. He just knew it.
Eve
The linens smelled like him.
Sinking into the sheets, Eve still clung to his neck, possessed by an inexplicable urge to lick him again. The contact with his throat had taken her somewhere unknown, his warmth against her tongue, the slight rasp of stubble, the sharp jut of his Adam’s apple, and then the bitter flavor of cologne, with just a hint of salt.
He hovered above her, his presence so potent that the very air around him seemed to vibrate.
A low sound rumbled in his chest, and she felt those vibrations from him enter her own body. His hands found hers. He unclasped them from the back of his neck, and heat crept up her cheeks when she realized she had been holding on to him as if she never meant to let him go.
He wasn’t pleased with that, she sensed.
Not good.
Whatever power he had over her had to be broken, and broken right away. This wasn’t like her, this urgent need to wrap herself around a client like a vine.
He loomed large and powerful, one knee propped on the bed as if he were considering his next move.
Gathering her wits, she reached for him, hands sliding inside his open suit jacket in an attempt to push it off.
Above her, he growled. She felt him shake his head.
What did he want, then?
Frustration overwhelmed her. Her hands froze where they were, her palms pressed to his waist, and in a mad burst of defiance, she dug her nails into his flesh. His breath came in a hiss, and then he was upon her, yanking her hands off his body, taking her wrists and raising them, trapped, over her head.
She quelled the urge to squirm under his weight. He covered her completely, and he was heavy, but oddly, she didn’t mind. She felt his breath, hot, on her cheek. It smelled of mint. His nose nudged just below her jaw, lightly, oh-so-lightly, rubbing back and forth.
“It’s showtime,” he whispered,“but the playbill is mine.” His grip on her wrists tightened.“Understood?”
He couldn’t see her frown, thank goodness. Eve nodded.
“Good.”
That’s when he opened his mouth over her neck and sucked.
A strangled gasp escaped her. His tongue circled again and again, traveling lower with each electrifying swirl. He licked her collarbone.
She felt him, hard, against her. Her hands clenched into fists. His hips began a lazy roll, brushing against her center with each gyration, the friction and pressure in just the right place to trigger the unmistakable beginnings of an orgasm.
My God.They’d barely gotten started. And they were both still fully clothed.