“Your maid didn’t wash them?” I moan against the tweak of his fingers on my nipple.
“I wouldn’t allow it. Not until I couldn’t smell you anymore.”
My chest flutters.
Who am I kidding? There’s a damn butterfly migration taking off inside me. His confession is just so…unexpected. So is the hand caressing the soaked crotch of my thong.
He’s rock hard beneath me. I’m dripping wet. Why are we still talking?
I remind myself he was with another woman two nights ago. Hell, he could’ve spent the night with another woman after dropping me off at the concert.
Miserable thoughts. But my body doesn’t seem to care. His touch feels too good, and I’m so fucking worked up my pussy throbs with its own heartbeat.
“I love your tits.” He squeezes my flesh. “Perfectly round, sitting up high on your chest and driving me insane every goddamn day.” His finger circles around the bud. “I bet these perfect little nipples are pink.”
“See for yourself.”
“Turn around.”
I’m not fully standing before he spins me to face him, pulls me onto his lap, and guides my legs to straddle the spread of his.
“So damn beautiful.” He cups my face, seemingly hypnotized by whatever he sees there.
I look him in the eye and give him a sweet subtle grin, communicating that I know how entranced he is.
His attention lowers to my chest, and his hands follow, lifting the hem of my shirt with slow, agonizing patience. Cool air brushes my nipples. Then his gaze.
“Pink.” His expression intensifies, lighting me on fire.
He grips my ass and shifts me up his chest to nuzzle my breasts. I use my hands to squeeze what little I have around his face. His breaths become shallow, and his teeth graze my skin. When he swirls his tongue around a nipple, my head falls back, my fingers clutching his shoulders for support.
But he has me, his arms holding me tight as he lowers me onto the rigid cock trapped within his slacks. He rocks his hips upward, groaning, his hands roaming everywhere—my thighs, my breasts, my neck, always returning to knead my butt.
I slide my face along the side of his until I reach his ear. Then I draw the lobe between my lips and suck.
It sets him off, his hands plunging into my hair and his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
“You’re so fucking hot.” He growls into the kiss, the fingers in my hair wrenching my head back for a deeper angle. “You make me crazy.”
I know the feeling. All reason has abandoned me in the powerful arms of desire. I want him, need him, and none of this is rational. But I’m caught in the rapid rhythm of his breaths, the flex of his body, and the expert strokes of his tongue.
With my legs hooked around the back of the chair, my skirt rides up to my hips. I gently grind against him, rocking up and down, like I’m riding a bull in slow-motion. The wetness between my legs will no doubt leave a stain on his slacks, and the thought makes me grin against his lips.
The song loops again, and he eases back but not away. “I can’t do this anymore.”
A fist of dread clenches inside me. “Can’t do what?”
“I can’t keep pretending you aren’t the first thought in my head when I wake and the reason I can’t fall asleep at night.”
I stare at him in shock.
Eyes hooded, mouth parted, he cradles my face and touches our foreheads together. “I lied to you.”
My heart skips. “What do you mean?”
“I want you, Danni.”
Oh. “That’s not exactly a secret.” I press my weight down on his erection.
“It’s more than that. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.” His fingers tighten against my jaw. “I want all of you.”
“You want all of me?” My pulse accelerates, and my voice cracks on a fragile breath. “What does that mean?”
“Just when I think I can’t possibly want you more,” Trace says roughly, heatedly, “this hunger, this gut-deep need I feel for you consumes me until I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
My mouth dries, and the room spins around me, tipping me off balance.
“I don’t understand. All this time…” I slide off his lap and back out of his hold on my neck. I don’t know what this is, but something’s off. “You said you wouldn’t fuck me. You didn’t want the mess. Why would you lie?” I shove my hair away from my face. “Why are you telling me this now?”
He bends forward, dropping his head, and bracing his forearms on his knees. “This isn’t about sex.”
“Really,” I drawl, incredulous.
“Okay, yes, sex is… I want to be inside you. Desperately.” His eyes burn into mine. “But that’s not all.”