“You are so beautiful,” she says, leaning forward to rub her cheek against mine.
“I’m not.” I keep my hands at her waist because if I touch her ass, it’s over. My dick is already impossibly stiff, pressing into the warm cove between her legs where she straddles me.
“You know at first I didn’t think so either.” She pulls back, the heat in her eyes tempered with a dangerous tenderness. “But then I saw you smile, and I could never think of you as anything but beautiful again.”
And as much as I want more, there’s a part of me that relishes just this. The eager discovering of first touches and near-kisses. We’ll never have these again for the first time, and I’ve had enough things that weren’t special to savor this thing that is.
“And as soon as I saw you onstage—”
“You saw your Dessi?” She lowers her lashes and toys with the buttons on my shirt.
“I saw a star, yes, but also the most generous performer I’d ever encountered. You gave the audience everything, and I wondered, is that for real? Does she hold nothing back?”
“Do you want to know?” She scoots an inch closer, her skirt rising higher and revealing the edge of her black panties. “If I would give you everything?”
She skates the tip of one finger over the bow of my lip, and I grit my teeth, gripping the last shreds of control with slippery palms. Her curious caress moves to my bottom lip, brushing back and forth until, on a pant, my mouth opens. Wasting no time, she grips my chin, leaning in, licking into me, searching, finding my tongue and drawing it into her mouth, sucking gently, softly. My control snaps like ropes holding back a beast, and it sets my hands free. I clutch the roundness of her ass, urging her even deeper into me until the place where I’m hardest touches the place where she is most soft and vulnerable and wet.
I groan into the kiss, pushing up, urging her hips into a deep wave over me. We build a rolling rhythm that collides our bodies over and over again, kindling for a fire. My hands slip under the T-shirt and find her skin, velvet and sleek stretched over her back. I hesitate at the clasp of her bra, not sure I should. Never breaking the contact of our kiss, she reaches behind and undoes the clasp herself. The freed weight of her breasts spills against my chest, and I push my tongue deeper into her mouth, so deep her breath catches like it might be too much. Like I might be too much, and I want that because she is too much for me to take in all at once. The vastness of her spirit and the urgency of her passion. I taste this night in the sweet recesses of her mouth, the dessert and the daring.
She breaks our kiss to tug the shirt over her head and ease her arms from the loops of her bra. My mouth waters at the sight of the dark nipples tipping her breasts like crown jewels.
“Touch me.” There’s begging in her voice I can’t resist. I brush my thumb over her, watching her breast peak and tighten. She draws a sharp breath. “Taste.”
I will.
My lips part, poised to accept the intimate invitation.
My phone rings, splitting the quiet.
Her eyes widen, find mine. I would ignore the call, but it’s Evan’s ringtone.
Shit.
Worst timing everrrrrr.
Not only did he ruin my vibe, but he reminded me of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen—yet.
“I need to get this. It’s Evan.”
“Oh.” She nods, grabbing the shirt and slipping it over her nakedness. “Alright.”
She moves off me, glancing down at my dick tenting my jeans. She licks her lips and all I can imagine is that kiss-swollen mouth wrapped around my cock, and Evan can go to hell. Unthinking, I palm her hip and draw her back to me.
The ring comes again.
Dammit, Evan.
I pull the phone from my pocket and ease off the couch. She stands there a moment as if waiting for me to change my mind. If I don’t walk away, I will, so I go to the fireplace and turn my back on her, resting my elbows on the mantel.
“What’s up?” I ask Evan.
“Uh, happy Thanksgiving to you, too. You still want to come over? Drink and dream some? My dad gave me these Cuban cigars at dinner today. My dude. I got one with your name on it. You on your way?”
Behind me, spoons clank in the bowls as Neevah walks to the kitchen, rinses the dishes and slots them into the dishwasher. I look over my shoulder to find her turned away, hands gripping the edge of the sink, slim shoulders lifting and falling with deep breaths. She appears as discomposed as I feel, but she’s younger, not just in years, but in experience. This is her first movie, and she gets into a relationship with the director? It’s not wise. It could be a repeat mistake for me, yes, but one I could easily weather. There are passes I get because I’m a man, because I have power she doesn’t. Because I tell stories that make people money. She doesn’t have that track record yet. She has no idea that we could crush each other. That beyond this door and this feeling, her career, her whole life, could be jeopardized by what we do tonight.
But I know, and I won’t let her risk it.
“Yeah, I’m on my way,” I tell Evan, pulling the car keys from my pocket.