“You smile.” Mikael’s deep husky voice vibrated between them, coloring the air, filling the space around them.
Heat danced through her, little sparklers lighting nerve endings beneath her skin. She flexed her feet, feeling her toes curl.
Amazing how little it took for him to turn her on.
Just a long glance from his dark eyes.
A word from his lips.
A certain pitch in his voice.
That’s all it took and everything within her melted, wanting. Wanting him and what he did to her, and what he could make her feel.
Jemma drew a slow breath, and then exhaled just as slowly, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. “You have the longest, darkest eyelashes,” she said, hating the slightly breathless note in her voice, knowing he’d notice. He always did. “I should steal them. You don’t need them. I’m the model, not you.”
The edge of his mouth lifted. He sat down on the edge of her lounge chair, his hand settling on her knees and then sliding up a couple inches on her thigh. “No Saidian queen has ever held a job.”
“Are you saying I can’t work if I am your queen?”
“You are my queen, and I haven’t made any decisions with regard to your career. Although truthfully, it would be very unusual in Saidia, and would probably create a great deal of controversy, if you did continue working.”
“So we know what that means.”
He tapped the tip of her nose. “We don’t know what that means, Miss Smarty Pants.” He moved his hand to her thigh, his palm warm against her skin. “Would you miss modeling?”
“I would miss working.”
“But not modeling specifically?”
She shrugged, and struggled to focus, which wasn’t easy with the warmth of his hand stealing into her thigh. “I enjoyed my job until recently...when everyone dropped me.”
“Could you be happy doing other things?”
He’d begun to draw invisible circles on her thigh, setting the nerve endings on fire.
“Such as?” she asked, her voice growing husky.
“Making public appearances. Talking to girls and advocating literacy. Making love to me. Having babies.”
Every word he spoke was accompanied by another swoop of his finger across her bare skin, flaming the nerve endings all the while moving closer to her tiny purple bikini bottoms.
She was tempted to press her knees together to stop his fingers and yet she loved his touch, wanted more, wanted him to strip the bottoms off of her and part her thighs and settle between them again, and put his mouth on her, using his tongue and fingers to trace the shape of her soft folds and the tight sensitive clit—
“You’re distracted,” Mikael said, leaning in to kiss her, even as his palm slid over her thigh to her hip.
She shivered at the caress and the brush of his lips over hers. He pushed her heavy damp hair from her face and kissed her again, more deeply.
She sighed, as he lifted his head. She wanted more, not less. “Maybe a little,” she agreed. “Where have you been?”