“Normally we’d kiss, but I’m not going to suggest something you’re not ready for.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I’m not ready for kissing?”
I’m taking a risk, but a masochistic part of me is curious to know what she’ll do if I dare her. I’m also dying to kiss her. “You think you can learn to run before you walk? That you can kiss me without emotion?”
“Of course I can.”
She’s lying—either to me or to herself. I should exercise caution…but something—my ego? My desire?—demands I prove her wrong.
I stand, then saunter to the entrance and untie the drape. As the curtain falls and shields us from the outside world, I turn. For a moment, I see hesitance in her eyes, like she realizes we’re alone. That nothing and no one can stop what happens except her.
Is Kiera having second thoughts? She should.
But she lowers her stare to my lips. Breathless anticipation overtakes her expression.
Her excitement spurs something dangerous in me.
“Can you now?” I goad as I drop to the sofa beside her.
Before I’m even settled, before I see it coming, she grabs my shirt, tugs me closer, and presses her lips against mine.
For an instant, I’m caught off guard. My heart rate spikes. Then instinct kicks in, and I take control.
After wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her on top of me, thrust my fingers in her hair, and nudge her lips apart. I shouldn’t deepen the kiss, but I can’t let go until I’ve thoroughly tasted her fuck-me mouth.
Her mouth isn’t the only thing you want to taste.
I surge inside to sample her with my tongue. She moans, opening to grant me complete access as her hard, little nipples sear my chest.
I groan. God, she feels too good. Every inch of my skin is alive. My desire soars. Impulse control slips away.
In the last two years, I’ve kissed countless women in bars like this with only one thing going through my mind: the no-strings fun we were going to share that night. Kissing Kiera feels different. More intense. More consuming. More…everything.
Without even thinking, I grip her hips and guide her onto my erection. Then I slide my hands down to her pert ass and roll up under her. She rocks against me. The rhythms of our mouths and bodies sync up. Our electric friction strips away more of my control. I feel her everywhere, in every moment, in every breath. I’m drowning in her, yet I want to be deeper. I need to feel every part of her. I’m dying to caress, bite, and lick every inch of her creamy skin.
Why is my efficient little assistant driving me so crazy with lust?
Suddenly, the deejay whoops, encouraging everyone to party the night away and jolts me back to reality. Where we are and who we are sets in. I jerk back, gasping and trying to slow my heart while the sounds of her hot, heavy breaths resound over the thumping beats of the electronica tune.
Holy shit, that got fucking hot fucking fast. I feel like I just played chicken with a truck.
“See?” She shrugs. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
What? Is Kiera saying she felt nothing? That isnotpossible. Her pupils are dilated. Her mouth is swollen. Her nipples are beyond erect. If I reached my hand under that dress, I’m sure I’d find her wet and ready. Hell, everything about her says she’s eager to be fucked.
How about you rectify that sooner rather than later?
Damn it, I can’t. Well, I shouldn’t. Making out is one thing. But sex? It’s a bad idea for so many reasons. I’d love to. God, I really would. And If I asked, I have a feeling she’d say yes.
It’s so tempting…and so dangerous. All I want to do is satisfy my need to take her in every way known to man, then invent a few more and try those, too.
But if I do, what happens?
“Yeah, nothing at all,” I lie right back as I sit up.
Awkwardly, Kiera stands and adjusts the hem of her dress with a laugh. “Um, red isn’t your color.”
“What?”