causing an answering flutter in
her womb. And then he said it. The one word that swept her defenses away like a
sandcastle against the incoming tide. “Please, darlin’?”
It was the “darlin’” that got her. She was a sucker for a
man who dropped a “g” when he begged. Hell, she was a sucker for a man who
begged.
Who tipped his head to the side.
Who gazed at her with enormous soulful eyes.
Who put out a lip.
She tried not to imagine what she would like to do to that
lip.
He tugged again and this time she followed. She followed him
out of the booth and onto the dance floor. She didn’t have a clue what song was
playing. She was only aware of him. His body. His warmth.
And God, he was tall.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She said it more to herself,
but he answered.
“Oh yes.” A purr. “We should.” He faced her on the dance
floor, tipped up her chin. They were so close she could make out each little
hair on his shadowed jaw. So close. Too close. A sudden panic flicked through
her.
“But what about your date?”
“What about her?” He pulled her into his arms, against him.
The shock of it—his hardness, his heat, the electricity that shot through her
as they melded from chest to groin—nearly incapacitated her.
“She’s blind.” As usual, she made a joke to disguise her
discomfort. She loved tall men. And this guy, maybe a little too much.
“No worries.” He chortled. The reverberation thrummed
through her, his breath danced over her cheek. “We’ll get her a dog.”
He spun her around then and it was like the centrifugal
force, the sheer elation of the movement, pulled out all her trepidation and
flung it to the wind. She laughed out loud, a full-throttled spurt of glee.
God, she loved being in his arms. The way he surrounded her with his warmth.
Held her tight. She loved the look in his eye, the feel of his palm on her
lower back. And his chin. At eye level, it was a temptation she couldn’t
resist.
As the music flowed around them, as their bodies twined, she
leaned closer, tipped up her mouth and tasted him. Just tasted him. The skin of
his chin, the soft bristles of his scruffy beard, the hard line of bone
beneath. Heaven.
He froze. Stopped right there on the dance floor, oblivious
to the other couples bumping into them. He froze and stared at her. His
nostrils flared and he yanked her closer, held her even tighter.
A thrill shot through her as an indisputably hard bulge bit
into her belly. And surged.
“Did you just lick me?” His tone was laced with mock outrage
but laughter and lust danced in his eyes.
“Maybe.” She rubbed against him in a very deliberate fashion
and he paled. The jaw she found so irresistible clenched. He glanced around and
then drew her back into the dance. She couldn’t help but notice he was twirling
her toward the rear of the bar. She let him.
She’d had a taste. One tantalizing taste. She wanted more.
He danced her into the shadows and then backed her against
the wall, crowding her with his big body. “It’s not fair,” he murmured, framing
her cheeks with large hands.
“What?” Her question was strangled by the anticipation
clogging her throat. “What’s not fair?”
“You’ve tasted me.” His gaze burned into hers. “I haven’t
tasted you.”
His lips when they touched hers, rasped against hers, were
like liquid fire. Sensation swamped her. His scent surrounded her. He made a
little growling sound and deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth over hers,
molding her, sucking her soul. His tongue, sensuous and slick, dabbed at the
crease of her mouth and pressed in.
Showers of delight trickled through her veins. Her nipples,
tender and hard, throbbed. Her womb flowered, wept. Every nerve awoke and sang.
She opened to him. Tangled her tongue with his. He drew it
into his mouth and sucked. Her knees buckled but he caught her before she fell.
“God, you’re sweet. You taste so sweet.”
She moaned in mute denial as his lips
her womb. And then he said it. The one word that swept her defenses away like a
sandcastle against the incoming tide. “Please, darlin’?”
It was the “darlin’” that got her. She was a sucker for a
man who dropped a “g” when he begged. Hell, she was a sucker for a man who
begged.
Who tipped his head to the side.
Who gazed at her with enormous soulful eyes.
Who put out a lip.
She tried not to imagine what she would like to do to that
lip.
He tugged again and this time she followed. She followed him
out of the booth and onto the dance floor. She didn’t have a clue what song was
playing. She was only aware of him. His body. His warmth.
And God, he was tall.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She said it more to herself,
but he answered.
“Oh yes.” A purr. “We should.” He faced her on the dance
floor, tipped up her chin. They were so close she could make out each little
hair on his shadowed jaw. So close. Too close. A sudden panic flicked through
her.
“But what about your date?”
“What about her?” He pulled her into his arms, against him.
The shock of it—his hardness, his heat, the electricity that shot through her
as they melded from chest to groin—nearly incapacitated her.
“She’s blind.” As usual, she made a joke to disguise her
discomfort. She loved tall men. And this guy, maybe a little too much.
“No worries.” He chortled. The reverberation thrummed
through her, his breath danced over her cheek. “We’ll get her a dog.”
He spun her around then and it was like the centrifugal
force, the sheer elation of the movement, pulled out all her trepidation and
flung it to the wind. She laughed out loud, a full-throttled spurt of glee.
God, she loved being in his arms. The way he surrounded her with his warmth.
Held her tight. She loved the look in his eye, the feel of his palm on her
lower back. And his chin. At eye level, it was a temptation she couldn’t
resist.
As the music flowed around them, as their bodies twined, she
leaned closer, tipped up her mouth and tasted him. Just tasted him. The skin of
his chin, the soft bristles of his scruffy beard, the hard line of bone
beneath. Heaven.
He froze. Stopped right there on the dance floor, oblivious
to the other couples bumping into them. He froze and stared at her. His
nostrils flared and he yanked her closer, held her even tighter.
A thrill shot through her as an indisputably hard bulge bit
into her belly. And surged.
“Did you just lick me?” His tone was laced with mock outrage
but laughter and lust danced in his eyes.
“Maybe.” She rubbed against him in a very deliberate fashion
and he paled. The jaw she found so irresistible clenched. He glanced around and
then drew her back into the dance. She couldn’t help but notice he was twirling
her toward the rear of the bar. She let him.
She’d had a taste. One tantalizing taste. She wanted more.
He danced her into the shadows and then backed her against
the wall, crowding her with his big body. “It’s not fair,” he murmured, framing
her cheeks with large hands.
“What?” Her question was strangled by the anticipation
clogging her throat. “What’s not fair?”
“You’ve tasted me.” His gaze burned into hers. “I haven’t
tasted you.”
His lips when they touched hers, rasped against hers, were
like liquid fire. Sensation swamped her. His scent surrounded her. He made a
little growling sound and deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth over hers,
molding her, sucking her soul. His tongue, sensuous and slick, dabbed at the
crease of her mouth and pressed in.
Showers of delight trickled through her veins. Her nipples,
tender and hard, throbbed. Her womb flowered, wept. Every nerve awoke and sang.
She opened to him. Tangled her tongue with his. He drew it
into his mouth and sucked. Her knees buckled but he caught her before she fell.
“God, you’re sweet. You taste so sweet.”
She moaned in mute denial as his lips
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