Page 95 of Skins Game

Yeah, this was what it was like to swoon.

A wave of his phone at the door, and they were inside the suite, candles burningeverywhere.

The flickering candlelight caught and rebounded and sparkled in the crystal and in the air, exquisite and glorious to even Nicole, who was stumbling as Kingston lifted her in his arms like he was a knight and she was a lady and carried her to the bedroom.

“Are you too drunk on the champagne?” he asked, his mouth against her neck as he lay her down on the wide bed.

“Only in a good way,” she said, sighing at the shimmering chandelier above the bed with only the tiniest filaments glowing in the bulbs. “Not too drunk at all. Are you?”

“Not too much,” he whispered, his words shivering against her skin. “And only for you.”

The candlelight and his words enchanted the last bit of rationality from her mind. “Oh, Kingston. Please, I love?—”

“Not now,” he said, covering her mouth and sealing her words inside. “Later.”

She tugged his hand away. “You’re not letting me speak.”

“I know, but not now,” he told her. “Not yet. Think before you say anything. You need to think abouteverythingbefore you do it. Think about this. Think aboutme.”

Shewas.

And shedid.

Her mind was filled with him, this moment, the sensation of his body as he shed his clothes and hers, and their skin slipping together.

In the flickering ambient glow of the candles, his body was strong and beautiful, wrapped with muscle and sinew, languid inmovement like she was, his mouth slow like trickling water over her breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs.

Kingston licked her slowly, first over her folds, then deeper, parting her. The roughness of his tongue drove her to heights, to arch and wind her fingers into his hair, to gasp as he rubbed through her.

When she writhed, almost crying out, he crawled up her body, his dark hair messy over his forehead and his eyes glazed with desire, and he lifted one of her legs over his broad shoulder and filled her, so hard, so thick inside, that her body was pushed farther toward the brink.

He lay down on her, covering her body with his, and wrapped his arms under her shoulders, holding her as they moved together.

Each surge of Kingston’s body into hers crested her higher, decimated her mind and her will further until she was crying out, begging him, dying for him. He drove harder into her, and she was shattered into shards and candlelight, holding him while he trembled, his breath harsh on her throat.

He gathered her against his chest, holding her, the world still spinning.

Nicole cuddled into his warmth, trying to sleep because unconsciousness would be the perfect end to this night, but midnight in New York was only eight o’clock in California.

She whispered, “Kingston?”

His arm curled, rolling her more tightly against him. “Yes.”

Candlelight still washed over them like the glow from faerie lights. “This was beautiful. Amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

“Kingston, I lo?—”

“Don’t say it now.” His voice lowered, but she could hear his smile in it. “Don’t make me spank you.”

“This emotional edging is kind of hot.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

“Fine.” She slithered sideways and ended up lying on his chest, her arms folded under her chin and staring into his amused eyes. “Then tell me something.”

“Like what?”