I reach for the laces of one shoe, ready to give up my socks, but Jasper’s voice stops me.
“Wait. What are you doing?” he asks.
“You won. I’m paying up. Isn’t that how this works?”
“Not in my game,” he replies. His voice is a low growl, his eyes never more tigerlike. Stalking. Predatory. Ravenous.
I watch as Jasper rolls forward onto his hands and knees and crawls around the front of the table toward me. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just take him in, frozen in place by the sheer want I see on his face.
“In my game, the winner gets to take his winnings. Like any real winner would.”
Take his winnings. Sweet God, he’s going to strip me!
Long, strong fingers wind around my ankle and tug. In one slow, smooth motion, he drags me toward him, his eyes never leaving mine.
Nimbly, he unties my right shoe and pulls it from my foot. Then, with deliberate movements, he slides his fingers under the elastic of my sock and slips it down my foot, easing it over the tips of my toes. The material softly scrapes my skin, the friction resounding in my belly like a caress.
He treats the other foot to the same kind of methodical attention, leaving enough moisture between my legs to douse the fire. But not nearly enough to douse my fire. It’s just beginning to rage out of control. This time there will be no stopping. This time I will feel all of Jasper and he will feel all of me.
When he’s discarded my socks, Jasper grabs me behind the bend of each knee and pulls me toward him again, guiding my legs to either side of his. I’m resting on my elbows, my sex throbbing like native drums, when Jasper reaches for the hem of my shirt. Rather than curling his fingers into it, however, he lays his hands flat against my stomach and starts to push the material up.
His palms are broad, hot torture to the bare skin of my midriff. I suck in a breath and his lips turn up at the corners.
“Easy, kitten,” he murmurs. “Don’t scratch me yet.”
At a pace that has me nearly writhing against him, Jasper raises my shirt, his rough hands a tantalizing scrape of skin on skin, a promise of wicked delight to come.
When he reaches my breasts, he moves up and over them, cupping them for just a second before continuing on. He turns his hands just enough that his thumbs graze my nipples with enough pressure to make me arch my back. And then they’re gone and his fingers are on my chest. At my throat.
“Lie back,” he instructs quietly, his voice as hypnotic as his eyes.
I do as he asks. He scoots up between my legs and leans over me, easing first one arm then the other out of their sleeves so he can pull my shirt over my head. With every movement, he rocks ever so slightly against me, the hardness of his erection straining against his pants, straining against me.
When my shirt is gone and I’m lying with my arms by my sides and my legs practically around his hips, Jasper rests his weight on one forearm and bends to speak into my ear.
“I can feel how hot you are all the way through my jeans.” A tiny bit of blood rushes to my face. The rest pools at the very point where his body touches mine. “Tell me, kitten, can I take the rest of what I won?”
“You haven’t won yet,” I respond breathily.
“But it’s just a matter of time.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I’ll make sure I win. Even if I have to cheat.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
Jasper flexes his hips, pressing into me in a painfully slow rhythm that makes my whole body tighten. “It’s hardly fair that the only taste I crave is the inside of your mouth. It’s hardly fair that I go to bed thinking about you or that I wake up aching for you. It’s hardly fair that I want you so bad my cock feels like it’s going to explode. But, then again, whoever said life was fair?”
“I guess you have a point,” I manage past the moan that’s bubbling in my throat.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, the fingers of his free hand sliding under the waist band of my yoga pants to grip my hip.
“That’s a hell yes.”
The last thing I hear before his lips meet mine is a throaty laugh that makes the hair on my arms stand up. And then I’m lost, lost in a sea of sensation and desire.
Jasper’s tongue slides effortlessly past my lips just as his hand turns and slides down the front of my panties. My spread legs leave me open for him. There’s nothing between him and the emptiness that only he can fill.
He moves into my panties and I hold my breath, anticipating the first electric touch of his fingers. He eases one fingertip between my folds, unerringly finding my nub. He rubs over it in one soft sweep, bringing my hips up off the floor before he moves down to my entrance, circling it as his palm cups the rest of me. “Holy Jesus, you’re wet. So wet,” he moans against my mouth, teasing me with several more circles before pushing one long finger inside me.