The Marriage Agenda(3)

She wanted to press her thighs together, to do something about the  desire burning there, but she couldn't move. Maybe she didn't want to.         

     



 

He abandoned her right leg for her left. "You like to ride me," he said,  his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "You find that rhythm, and my  God, it's all I can do to keep it together." He pressed a kiss to her  calf and worked his way up her thigh. "You love having your nipples  sucked. And when you feel my teeth on your skin, you come undone."

She felt certain she'd broken a sweat, probably from laboriously raising  the height of his pedestal. All thoughts of getting over him vanished,  leaving in their wake a wet little puddle of want. Too late, she  realized there was no way she could walk away from this encounter  unscathed, but she could sure as hell walk away first. Before he could.

The next time he wanted to feed her one of his stupid lines, he'd have to find her.

He crawled over her, sending her backward on the bed with the power of  suggestion. Hovering-depriving her of his weight-he leaned in to press  kisses to her neck. His cheek grazed her jaw, teasing, leaving her to  clutch the duvet to keep from seizing him.

"Chloe?" he whispered.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

The words still carried that husky, sexy tone, but they weren't at all  what she'd expected. She took a steadying breath, unsure whether or not  she welcomed the break in momentum. This encounter had disaster written  all over it. But where her mind still entertained doubts, her body  craved his touch. And in her heart, she knew he hadn't remembered those  things about her to get her in bed.

He remembered because he cared, and that brought on a whole new kind of hurt.

Her own warning came back to her-something about this being a bad  idea-but the chastisement dripped with a sugar-coated haze of euphoria.  Forget falling for him … she was in bona fide spelunking territory, and  the closest thing she had to protective gear sat too far away in  rolled-up neon latex.

The past year came rushing back. One in which she'd doubted herself,  closing the door to all things romantic because of the blow he'd dealt  her confidence. She hadn't moped or felt sorry for herself-not after the  first few days anyway-but she had neatly sidestepped any chance of  falling victim to those feelings again. Or she had until Lila's  blind-date nonsense.

Knox touched her face, his impossibly tender caress coaxing her back to  the present. To the hotel room, to the possibilities of an impeccably  made bed and a past she was far too willing, in that moment, to forget.

He drew closer.

She had all the time in the world to resist. She knew this because the  pause from the moment she realized he was going to kiss her until the  moment it happened felt like an eternity. But she wouldn't have resisted  if she could have, and the second his lips touched hers, she was lost.  He cupped her face, lowering his mouth until it melded with hers. Her  lips parted out of pure breathlessness, and he met her open kiss by  nipping her lip, waiting until she smiled to press his tongue deep  inside.

She had had enough hovering. With both hands fisted in his shirt, she  pulled until his weight finally settled deep against her, all the parts  lining up as if they were made as one. His taste, so familiar it curled  her insides. One kiss, bold but not frantic, stoking, with every sweep  of his tongue, a fire she had no chance of surviving.

And damn him for making her think it was worth the risk.





Chapter Three

God, she was gorgeous.

Knox had memorized everything there was to know about Chloe, but the  paintings in his mind gave no justice to how deeply he craved her  presence. Her body seemed to demand his touch, but those deep blue eyes  watched everything, shouting questions for which he had no answers.

She wanted to know why he'd left. And why he'd come back.

Even after all this time, she had a way of overtaking him. He wanted to  consume her. He wanted her hair between his fingers, to feel her body  tighten around his in release, to sweat and shout and breathe all she  was to him. He wanted to turn the bright, clear hope in her eyes dark  with passion, to steal the pleas from her lips and leave her incoherent  with desire.

But for all he wanted, he couldn't give her what she needed.

He was no Prince Charming. Not by a long shot.

Chloe's sleek dark hair fanned over the bedding, the rich hues making  her eyes look bluer than ever. Her dress, which flirted with her thighs  when she stood, offered a glimpse of the intimacy he so often craved.

He hadn't intended on getting her into bed, but once he'd laid eyes on  her, he wanted nothing more. He'd missed her. Missed how unbelievably  right they'd been together, even as he'd run from it. He'd screwed up  leaving her as he had, but she'd yet to impale him with one of those  incredibly sexy mile-high heels. Whatever she allowed him now was worth  the risk.         

     



 

He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb dragging across her lip when  he stroked her. Hot, thick tension splintered into flames when she  opened her mouth enough to nip at his thumb. The plume of desire that  shot through him made the room waver, but the gravity shift didn't stop  him from leaning down to catch her lip between his teeth.

She gasped, her breath a wisp against his mouth, but she remained soft and willing under his weight.

Time seemed to stop and funnel all of its energy into this one moment.  She was giving him a chance-one he hadn't earned. One rife with  complications he didn't need. But now that he'd touched her, the chance  was one he fiercely craved.

He leaned into another kiss, almost too late. She'd already clutched  him, pulling him the last inch to meet him with her mouth parted. In the  face of her aggression, he quickly realized he was in way over his  head. She met the raised stakes gamely, licking and sucking his tongue,  just like she had his finger. And other things, once upon a time. The  memory left him throbbing.

Suddenly ravenous, he kissed her deeper, tasting strawberries and the  tang of the alcohol from her drink. He ransacked her hair with his  hands, dragging her closer as if he could somehow save her, save himself  by gripping every erogenous inch of her breathtaking body.

"Knox … " Her fingers curled at his nape. Eyes shining with emotion, she  drew him back in, her mouth speaking all the forgiveness he needed. For  now.

He yearned to be everywhere at once. He longed to feel everything, to  somehow memorize her anew with his touch. He hungered to sample her  skin, to taste what he was doing to her. His own body begged for  release, but what he wanted most was to pleasure her, to give back  pieces of what he'd taken away.

He pushed up on one arm, hating the distance he put between them. Moving  quickly, he averted her attempt to reach for his zipper and relegated  her hands to a position just over her head, holding her wrists captive  with a firm but gentle grip. He pressed his thigh between her legs,  leaving her to squirm against him. He trailed kisses from her ear to her  neck and collarbone. When he could no longer resist, he nudged her  dress out of the way with his nose and sucked, deep and hard, on her  breast, sweeping her hardened nipple with his tongue.

Her sharp breath ruffled his hair. Every whimper that left her luscious  lips filled him with a deep satisfaction that could be outdone only by  the feel of her body hot around his. That was something he wasn't sure  he could take, but at the rate he was going, he might not get the  chance. Even with her hands bound by his, every supple move she made  seemed to caress and taunt him. Release threatened to crash with the  destructive force of a storm surge. Just the thought of spilling himself  deep inside her was enough to send him over the edge, but he forced  himself away from the cliff.

This had to be about her.

He switched from one breast to the other, trading deep, hard pulls for a  light tease of his tongue. The tip danced around the swollen bud,  lapping gently. When she seemed to relax, her cries giving way to  whimpers, he again turned the tide, biting and licking intensely.

Somehow, she broke the confines his grip and managed to rip his shirt  free of its buttons. Shoving aside the torn garment, she ravished his  bare skin, her fingernails raking his back with trails of pleasure he'd  likely feel for the better part of a week. With her legs wrapped solidly  around his hips, he had little means of escape from the exquisite  contact of her body. But some inner piece of long-forgotten sainthood  demanded he try. Chloe believed in romance, and he would ruin her  fantasy if he opened his mouth to do more than close it again on some  delectable piece of her.

But he would not-could not-put an end to this unholy feast. She trembled  in his arms, and even in the warmth of his mouth, her nipples pierced  his tongue with rigid arousal. His touch left a trail of gooseflesh over  her thighs, her shivers contrasting wildly with the heat nestled  against the front of his slacks. A string of profanity grazed his lips  where they crept against her skin. More.