“That depends.”
“On what?”
He licked his lips, and she stood up. “If I say it depends on what’s on offer, does that make it sound like we’re in a porno?”
She burst out laughing. So much for seductive. She held up a beer. “Cameron’s?” She remembered it was the same kind they’d drunk at the bar on the night of her non-wedding.
“Sure.”
Instead of taking the bottle by the neck, he closed his hand over hers as she passed it to him, and oh my God, whatever was going on inside her ratcheted up a notch, and she suddenly wanted those big, warm hands all over her. Her skin positively itched for it.
So she wasn’t a natural at seduction. Maybe she should just go the direct route. Dax seemed like the kind of guy who would appreciate a straightforward proposition. The only thing stopping her was fear of rejection. He’d made it quite clear that night in his bathroom that it was only circumstances that had him rebuffing her. But what if he’d just been being nice, letting her down easy? Could she stand to be turned down on her first post-jilting attempt?
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Instead of releasing the beer bottle, she tugged it back out of his grasp and set it down on top of the minibar. “On second thought, I don’t think I want a drink after all.”
He didn’t take his eyes from hers. If anything, they sparked with a new intensity. He’d been laughing at the porno joke, but now his face was dead serious. “I guess I should go then.” His voice had taken on a rough, gravelly tone.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t want that, either.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I want you to—”
“Remember what I said at the bar,” he interrupted gruffly. It wasn’t a question, but a command.
She nodded, mustering all her courage. She hadn’t been able to stop remembering. “Oh, I remember,” she whispered. “You don’t make love—”
“I mean it, Amy. I don’t do happily ever after.”
“No,” she said, forcing her voice to project, hoping that it would convey a confidence she didn’t feel. “You fuck. That’s what I want. That’s all I want.”
He was on her then, and the answering spike of lust in her body—mixed with a big dose of relief—nearly made her knees buckle. Those hands. His hands were everywhere all at once, and it was as good as she had imagined. He ran them up and down her sides, bringing little sparks of electricity with them. Then they came up to frame her face as he kissed her, hard and deep, without any prelude. She sagged against him, and he caught her and walked her backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed. “This dress zips up the back,” she breathed against his mouth as she collapsed on the bed.
His hands kept moving—they were sliding up her bare thighs now, but he stopped kissing her and stared at her, eyes dark. “Then you’d better turn over,” he growled, and she gasped at the answering rush of moisture the command summoned from between her legs. She obeyed, and the sound of the zipper coming down was followed by cool air on her heated skin. “Oh!” she exclaimed as his tongue made contact with her lower back and slid all the way up her spine, tracing the path of the zipper in reverse. His mouth was soft and warm, but it might as well have been made of flame for what it did to her. Working her arms out of the dress, she writhed under him, and she wasn’t sure if her aim was to get away or to get…more. He was kissing his way back down now, and he tapped her hips, signaling her to lift them so he could pull the dress the rest of the way off.
“Turn back over,” he whispered, as he unfastened her bra clasp. “Let me see you.” She paused for a moment, went still. His last girlfriend had literally been a model. What if she didn’t measure up? And she was faking all this bravado, after all. Would he be able to tell?
He had knelt up on the bed to make room for her to sit up, but she when she didn’t move, he lay down beside her, on his side while she remained on her stomach. She expected him to exhort her to move, but instead he buried his nose in her neck. A deep inhale, and then on an exhale, he whispered, “Delicious Strawberry Girl. You’re beautiful, you know that?”
She hitched a breath in and turned to face him so she was lying on her side, too. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he really believed what he’d just said, and seeing her was too much. She reached a hand out and stroked his chest, wishing he would take off his shirt. A renegade thought rose in her mind. Why not just tell him to take it off? “I…” Her voice came out all scratchy and quiet, so she cleared her throat and started again. “I want to see you, too.”