My breath catches in my throat just as his mouth fully covers mine. I part my lips, eager to taste him, to feel a part of him inside me.
The lingering hint of mint is mixed with the vodka on his tongue. He tastes like a cocktail. And he’s every bit as intoxicating as the alcohol he’s drinking.
With a will of its own, my hand moves up to the back of Nash’s neck, my fingers threading into the silky strands of his loose hair. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss. He teases my tongue with his own, drawing it out until he can suck it into his mouth to tangle with his own.
Beneath the table, I feel his palm move from my hip to my thigh, then inward until skin meets skin. The dramatic slit of my dress allows him nearly full access to me. And I want him to take it. I part my legs the tiniest bit, an invitation. I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that my father would disown me for the scandal. I don’t care about anything but this man and what he makes me feel. I only want him to touch me. I need him to touch me. And for this moment, the crowded piano bar is nothing more than a backdrop for the electricity that sings between us.
His hand moves to within inches of the apex of my thighs and stops. It’s perfectly still but for the movement of his thumb. It makes an arc over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Back and forth, so close to where I want most to feel it.
I’m panting into his mouth when Nash’s lips disappear. I open my eyes, confused. His face is a mere inch away, his eyes burning holes into mine. They’re on fire and I feel the heat all the way to my core. “I bet your panties are wet right now,” he murmurs, his hand inching up a fraction, then stopping again. My heart is racing and I wiggle a little in my seat. An impossible ache radiates from between my legs. “And I bet your ni**les are hard,” he says quietly, leaning forward to nuzzle my neck. “Hard and throbbing, Begging, like the rest of your body. To be licked. And sucked. And fuc—” he groans, catching himself.
And he’s right. It does. My whole being wants it. I feel like nothing will be right with the world until I’m filled with Nash, until my body is stretched tight around his, pinned beneath his weight.
With his scent all around me, his firm length pressed warmly to mine, his breath fanning my skin, his hands tormenting me, something begins to niggle at the back of my mind. Something seems so . . . familiar.
The house lights come on and applause breaks out all around us. With a frustrated sigh, Nash leans back, removing his hand from my leg, removing his heat from me. The performance was so amazing, the crowd is on their feet. A standing ovation. I think to myself that I had a private performance that was definitely worthy of such praise.
And I can only imagine how much better it gets.
The lowest part of my belly squeezes at the thought of what might be to come, what I feel is inevitable between us. What I want to be inevitable between us.
“Come on,” Nash says, sliding from the booth and offering me his hand. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” His smile is a wry twist of his lips that makes him even more handsome, even sexier than he usually is.
Personally, I didn’t think that was possible.
FIFTEEN
Nash
I don’t know what Marissa’s thinking and I’m not the kind of man who really cares or feels it’s overly important to find out. She’s quiet, but I figure if she’s uncomfortable or she’s got something to say, she’ll say it. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need me to pry it out of her. And if she does, tough shit.
Surely she knows where this is going. I think I’ve made it pretty plain that I have every intention of sleeping in her bed tonight. Not that either of us will be getting much sleep. The one thing I’m certain of is the only thing that matters. She’s game. I know she is. She wants me every bit as much as I want her. That’s the only thing that would stop me tonight—if she said no. I’m no ra**st. But that won’t be a problem. She won’t say no. I’d bet my life on it.
I press a little harder on the accelerator. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been with a woman, so my need is at fever pitch. Add to that Marissa’s response to me and I’m fighting not to find an empty parking lot. I’d pull her into my lap, rip her damp panties off her, and watch her ride me until she comes so hard she can’t breathe. I’m throbbing just thinking about it.
I resituate in my seat, trying to ease some of the pressure off my stiff dick. I can’t help but wonder what Marissa would do if I were to suggest that. Or, better yet, just do it. I know she’s never had a man like me, and I know I intrigue her. I’m sure there’s some part of her that knows about us, that remembers. Maybe that’s a factor. Either way, she’s willing to go with it, to go with me. Knowing that it goes against the grain for her, that she’s feeling wild and reckless, is a very potent cocktail. Makes me want to show her things she’s never seen. Or done. Or felt.
Yeah, Marissa’s unique. I’ve never met a woman with her particular . . . blend before—classy, reserved, but willing to let the tiger off the leash when I’m around—and I’m anxious to savor this time with her. I’m sure it won’t last long, which is perfect for me. We can just tear into each other and slake this hunger until it’s gone. We’ll both be satisfied and then it’ll be over. We’ll move on, go our separate ways. Clean and neat, cut and dried. No fuss, no muss. Just the way I like it.
I park the car at the curb and cut off the engine. I glance over at Marissa. She’s watching me with those sultry blue eyes. For a few seconds, I say nothing. Neither does she.
“I’ll be sleeping in your bed tonight,” I finally say, matter-of-fact.
“Yes,” she answers simply, confirming what I already knew.
Without another word, I slide out from behind the wheel and walk around the hood to her side. I help her out and put my hand at the small of her back to guide her up the sidewalk. My fingers itch to sink into that round, perfect ass of hers.
When we get to the door, she takes out her keys. I grab them from her fingers and unlock the door. She precedes me and stops just inside the entry. I shut and lock the door behind us, then turn to her. Without a word, I take her purse from her hand and lay it on the table by the door. It holds nothing now, not until she gets a new lamp.
Bending, I sweep her into my arms and carry her back to her bedroom. I set her on her feet at the end of the bed. She watches me as I lower myself onto the mattress and lie back, propping myself on my elbow.