His Defiant Desert Queen(38)

“I was just saying—”

He snapped his fingers, interrupting her, and then pointed to his chair. “Come here.”

Her green eyes darkened, widened. She swallowed hard.

“Come, big talker,” he said. “Let’s see how brave you really are.”

And just like that, her courage failed. She ducked her head, bit her lip, uncertain and shy.

He hid his smile. He’d expected as much.

She was a tease. One of those good girls who wanted to be bad.

He stood up, crossed to her chair, and tugged her to her feet. Her green eyes flashed again, worry, excitement, uncertainty.

He held her by the wrist, led her into the red and ivory pavilion behind them, and drew the silk curtains closed, hiding them.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She sat down on one of the low couches that wrapped the wall.

He sat down next to her.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

“Whatever we feel like doing,” he answered, his head dipping, dropping low, his mouth so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

Jemma held her breath, waiting for the kiss. She felt as if she’d been waiting forever for this moment. But he was taking his time, his lips lightly brushing across her cheek toward her ear.

She turned her head toward him, wanting his mouth on her mouth but his lips were exploring the high curve of her cheekbone, his lips a caress across her sensitive skin. Hot darts of pleasure shot through her. His mouth felt good on her. He smelled good, too. She wanted more of him, not less.

Jemma turned her mouth to his again, inhaling his scent, relishing the rich spicy fragrance of his skin. He’d shaved earlier, this morning, and his jaw was smooth and firm, his mouth full and so very sensual.

Promising pleasure.

Unable to resist, Jemma put her lips to his, and waited. Waited to see what he would do. Waited to see what would happen next.

If he intended to seduce her, she would let him do the work. She was in the mood to be seduced, too. Ready for pleasure, sensation, satisfaction. Exquisite satisfaction.

His hand moved to her chin, fingers trailing across her jaw in a leisurely exploration, and yet every little brush of his fingers made her insides tighten and squirm and her breasts, already aching, feel excruciatingly sensitive.

She wanted him to touch her there, on her nipples, and touch lower, between her thighs. She sighed, growing impatient.

“You’re not happy?” he asked, against her mouth.

She squirmed as his fingers played with her earlobe, lightly circling the soft tender skin again and again, making her senses swim and her head spin. “This is a bit frustrating,” she answered. “I think it’s time you just kissed me.”

His lips brushed hers again. “But I am kissing you.”

“No,” she said, arching as he found the hollow beneath her ear and did something delicious to it, so delicious that she clenched inwardly, craving his hard body filling her, warming her, satisfying her. “A proper kiss,” she insisted, no longer caring that she was supposed to resist him. Somehow reality no longer mattered, not when need licked at her veins and Jemma felt starved for sensation.

She reached up to clasp his face, her hands learning the shape of his jaw, the hard angles and planes as she pressed her lips to his, deepening the kiss, focused only on the heat between them.

He drew back after a moment, his eyes almost black in the dark pavilion interior. “Maybe we should stop. I don’t want to force you.”

“I don’t think you’re forcing me,” she said, giving her head a slight shake, as if to clear her head of the heat and need and intense physical craving to be touched. Taken.

She throbbed and pulsed in places that shouldn’t throb and pulse. “If anything, I feel as if I’m forcing you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m not being forced. Trust me.”

She stroked her hand over the warm hard plane of his face. Such a beautiful face. He was using his good looks against her. His charm, too. “You’re too good at this.”

His laughter was a deep rumble in his chest. “That’s better than being bad at this.”

“You’re making it impossible for me to resist you.”

“But you can. All you have to do is say stop, and we are done. I will never force you to do anything.”

Then his mouth traveled down her neck, over her collarbone, down her chest, to the swell of her breasts. He lips teased the underside of the breast through the fabric of her bikini, finding nerves in every place he touched. She shivered, gasping as his mouth settled over her taut nibble, sucking the tip through the fabric.

She arched as he sucked harder, the pressure of his mouth making her inner thighs clench together with need.