“I’d be happy to help you out,” she said decisively. “Take me back to the hotel right now, or I’m never going to speak to you again.”
His intense gaze lasered in on hers, evaluating. “Then it’s okay to skip all the stages and dive right into bed?”
She swallowed a laugh. Did he really not realize? Or was romance so much a part of his nature, he’d done it unwittingly? “You didn’t skip any stages. You hit them all. I’m yours.”
More evaluating. “I’ll take you back to the hotel if that’s what you want. But, VJ, be sure. I’m still leaving to go back to L.A. in a few days.”
Not if I have anything to say about it.
She crossed her fingers under the table. If he wanted to keep pretending this was some casual encounter, she could, too. Whatever worked to shove him closer to embracing all the beautiful things he deserved. All the things they could have together.
“I’m clear. We’re just having fun, right?”
His mouth twitched. “Where do I volunteer to be a guinea pig?”
His wicked grin kick-started her lungs again.
He met her eyes and a shock of lust uncurled deep in her core as he skewered her with probing intensity. Kris always had a slight sensual edge but it was fundamental to the way he moved and spoke. A fluke of his DNA. This was different. Lashing desire radiated from him, and she couldn’t look away.
“I can’t wait to find out what your butterfly tastes like,” he said. “Last chance to back out.”
She went hot and cold simultaneously, and squirmed against the heat licking through her. “Give the waiter your credit card.”
“I have cash.” He yanked his wallet out of his pocket and tossed a hundred on the table. “How fast can you walk in those heels?”
“Bet you can’t keep up,” she said and sprang to her feet at the same instant he did.
Nine
The atmosphere during the drive to the hotel was thick with impatience. Kris skidded into a parking place and materialized at her door to help her out, then pulled her through the lobby to the elevator. He stabbed the button, and the doors slid open.
It was empty. As the doors closed, Kris whirled her against the back of the elevator and crushed his mouth to hers. An edge of violent desperation flavored his kiss, thrilling her. His hands were everywhere as he consumed her. He tongued his way down the curve of her neck, yanked her dress down and licked a nipple into his mouth.
Her head lolled back and hit the wall, but she barely noticed as he sucked her nipple hard with the same pulling sensation he always used with her tongue. Heat raged through her, between her legs and down her thighs, and she moaned.
His fingers snaked up the back of her leg, then burned across her bare bottom. He dipped under the straps holding her thong in place.
One finger eased along her crease, parting and thrusting against the wetness there. Consciousness nearly dissolved with the heightened sensation. His hands were magic, driving deep, filling her, fulfilling her. She thrust against the pressure, and the spiral inside tightened as his mouth switched to her other breast, treating it to the same perfect suction as the other. Then he nibbled on her nipple.
She bucked against his hand.
“Kris... Kris. Stop,” she choked out with gasping little breaths, nearly weeping as his mouth left her flesh.
“Why in God’s name should I do that?” he snapped.
She yanked on his shoulders until he straightened. “Because we’re at our floor. Let’s go inside.”
His eyelids slammed shut. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I got carried away.”
The elevator doors slid open. His obvious chagrin was endearing, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why getting carried away was bad.
Without a word, he tucked her breasts away and led her out of the elevator. Smoothly, he slid the card key into the reader, pushed the door open and swept her up in his arms to carry her over the threshold and into his bedroom.
Elephants stampeded through her stomach. Rose petals were strewn all over the bed in a wholly romantic gesture. Her heart was lost. Probably had been since the first time he smiled at her on Little Crooked Creek Road.
Oh, God, what if she hadn’t recognized the stages? She’d never have known about the rose petals.
He set her down carefully, and without warning, hooked the shoulder straps of her dress and peeled it off, trapping her arms with the fabric.
“That is more like it,” he said with appreciation.
He looked his fill, studying her breasts—clearly visible through the transparent bra—with marked intensity, eyes hot and his gaze never wavering, until her cheeks were on fire. The butterfly had him mesmerized.