His lips curved into a wolfish smile. ‘You must want something, to wear a dress designed to make you look like both a virgin and a seductress.’
And she realized he knew nothing, only felt the physical need that she’d hoped he would, the need that was all she had to use to her advantage. ‘Which one are you?’ he asked her. ‘The virgin or the seductress?’
It was easier to play the part she’d assigned herself than she’d ever imagined possible. She let her body lean into his, every curve strategically placed. ‘You know I’m no virgin.’
‘So what do you want?’
‘It’s been too long,’ she told him, moving her hips just enough that she could feel his rigid length. ‘I want you. I want you to make love to me.’
His eyes flared with both victory and red-hot want, and she knew she’d voiced the right words to turn his passion incendiary.
And while that was her own victory, right now the desire to make love with him was the most pressing thing in the world, and that was her obsession.
She didn’t have long to wait. His mouth was on hers in an instant, his arms surrounding her, lifting her from the ground and carrying her up the stairs effortlessly, as if she were weightless. Which was exactly how she felt. Weightless. Without a care or a concern or a worry in the world except how to get this man inside her to fill this desperate aching need.
‘Christo,’ he muttered, as he surged up the stairs, ‘but you are driving me insane.’
Once inside his room, he spun her against the closed door, lowering her legs to the ground, clutching the fabric of her skirt so that it bunched in his hands and left her legs near naked. He cupped her behind, his fingers squeezing into her flesh so that she gasped into his mouth. He drank it down, making her gasp once more as his fingers slid under the lace of her thong and worked still lower, while the other hand liberated a breast his hungry mouth soon captured, sucking on one sensitive nipple, tugging at the very essence of her.
Sienna clung to him, her hands tearing at his clothes, pulling his head back to her mouth, wanting to feel more, never satisfied, always wanting more of him in her mouth, on her body—inside—more that she could feel, more of what he gave her with his touch.
He parted her then with his fingers, encountered her slick need, and growled so deep in her mouth that the sound reverberated through her soul. His touch brought flesh already exquisitely tender to flashpoint, and she squirmed against his expert hand, desperation driving her as his fingers toyed with her, teased her, entered her.
She threw her head back against the door, dizzy with it all, and through the wall of his chest she could feel his heart slamming, echoing the crashing beat of her own laboured organ. And still she needed more. Needed him inside her.
As if he read her thoughts, she felt a tug and a snap, heard the hiss of a zip, and felt herself being lifted higher, the heavy door at her back, the liquid silk of her skirt rucked up high on her legs, and the taste of him in her mouth, before he set her slowly down.
Wonder consumed her just as she consumed him, letting him stretch her, fill her, her muscles working to hold him there and never let go. She could stay this way for ever, and it would still not be enough. And then he moved inside her, and the connection sizzled and burned, and before she could fight to hold him, he was gone, balancing on the brink, his breath heavy on her throat as it seemed the world hung in the balance. And then he thrust inside her again, and this time it was better and deeper than before, the connection more powerful, the union more intense. She clung to him, his every thrust giving her more even as it expanded her need, turning it urgent and desperate and like a living thing.
She felt it rush towards her, unstoppable, inevitable, felt the same juggernaut bearing down on him, heard him meet it head on as he cried out on one final explosive thrust. Powerless to resist, she went after him, her senses exploding until nothing existed but sensation and colour and a world filled with tiny fragments of light.
He recovered first, his breathing still ragged in her ear as he lifted her into his arms again and carried her to the wide bed. He placed her down almost reverentially, kissing her on the forehead, before he turned to remove his jacket and tie and shuck off his shoes.
Sienna blinked back into consciousness and looked up at him, taking in his dark beauty and the stealthy, sexy way he moved, whether with clothes on or off, and felt the first fluttering premonition of trouble.
The sex was good—great—and if she’d wanted his complete attention, she had no doubt she now had it. If she was going to make an impression on him, if he was going to see her as a person, a woman with her own needs and wants, if she was going to make him feel, now was her chance.