Sparks shot through me, and I stiffened. When I tried to put space between us, his arms circled my waist, binding me to him, denying me the separation I needed to keep my head clear.
“A genuine apology deserves a kiss. Don’t you agree?” he murmured, his attention directed at my mouth.
His eyes were heavy and determined with a transparent look of a predator as though he had no intention of letting me walk away without leaving his mark. His scent enveloped me, intoxicating me, and with the speed of a bolt of lightning I went from nothing to lust and need.
His hand darted under the hem of my shirt, caressing my braless back. Goosebumps spiraled down my arms and heat pulsed low in my belly. “Let me have a taste. One taste. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why?” I shot back, acutely aware of the uncharacteristic hoarseness of my voice. “Why are you doing this?”
He lifted my arms and draped them around his neck and I molded my palms over the curve of his muscles. “It’s only a kiss.”
My mind battled with itself. The smart thing would be to put a stop to this right now, only I couldn’t. Somehow the “no” I needed to say caught in my throat, and I hovered on the knife-edge of wanting and not wanting. Every brush, tap, or circle of his fingers on my back pushed me closer to giving in.
“Do you want to complicate things even more?” My words demonstrated resistance, although my actions said the exact opposite. I tipped my head up and licked my lips in silent invitation. My nervousness was draining away second by second, only to be replaced with a needy, buzzing energy unlike like anything I’d felt before.
“I like messy, don’t you?” His lips crashed against mine before I had the chance to fire off a retort, and the air separating our bodies vanished like it never existed in the first place. I found myself in his lap, my arms wrapped around his neck, and my now hard nipples squashed against the iron planes of his chest.
Our tongues tangled and I tasted wine and something uniquely him. Our ragged breaths merged into one heady moan. Our hands explored, moving freely like thieves in the night stealing what didn’t belong to us. What would never belong to us.
My nerve endings fired and crackled with forbidden desire. I felt alive rather than stuck in the purgatory-like state of the last three years. Possibly longer because, quite honestly, being with Rocco never felt like this. Every touch and kiss I shared with him was gentle, caring, and respectful, as if we couldn’t bear to offend one another or cross some invisible line drawn in the sand.
Tonight I didn’t care about wrong or right. I already knew this was wrong, only instead of it giving me pause, it made the whole encounter combustible, dangerous, and darkly fulfilling.
With his eyes gleaming, Kon ripped my camisole over my head. The humid evening breeze from the still open balcony door wafted over my skin like a caress. Not wasting a beat, his warm mouth moved down my neck, pausing on my breasts. He took one nipple between his lips, then the other, suckling and grazing them with the blades of his teeth.
I yanked on the knot of his tie, wanting to see what was hidden beneath his shirt. He flicked my hands away, guiding me back until I sank into the mattress, my hands over my head and my heart thudding frantically inside of my chest. With a sharp tug on his blue tie, he yanked it from his neck. He dangled the shiny material from his fingertips while popping open the top two buttons of his shirt.
“I’m in control tonight,” he said, knotting the tie around my wrists.
The air rushed out of my lungs and a prickle of fear raced through me. This was way out of my realm of experience. I lifted my bound arms. “I’m not sure about this, Kon.”
“Then it’s my job to change your mind.”
Grinning wickedly, he dragged my pajama shorts down my shaky legs until they reached my ankles and tossed them on the floor. He wedged his body between my legs. His gaze fiery, his hands trailed over my dips and curves, stopping at the apex of my thighs.
He circled my entrance with his thumb. One swirl. Two swirls and then I lost count. Each time he moved deeper and deeper. Desire rushed through me so hard and fast, my hips arched off the bed, my toes curling into the threads of my sheets.
I twisted and squirmed and he steadied me with his hands. I pinched my eyes closed and turned my head into the pillow, not wanting to wake my mom on the other side of the house. Seconds later, he lowered his head, his tongue working between my legs, kissing the inside of my thighs, taunting me, teasing me. His whiskers scraped across my soft skin.
And then his tongue swiped exactly where I wanted him to be if I had the wherewithal to beg. He lapped me up, leisurely then quicker until I hovered on the brink of the best orgasm of my life. I panted, moaned, and mumbled all kinds of ridiculous things that would warm my face with humiliation in the light of the day.