“I’m not a Monet,” she squawked, which was not the sexy voice she’d been going for.
“You are. You’re exquisite. And you have on too many clothes.” The dress was around her ankles instantly. “Red’s not actually my favorite color, by the way.”
“It’s not?” Dang it. She knew she shouldn’t have gone with the permanent tattoo. “What is?”
He placed one finger on the edge of the thong and pushed it down. Way down, and then grazed her nub with a knuckle. “That is. I want to see it.”
Wet heat pooled around his finger as he rubbed it back and forth. A long wave of desire crested and broke at his touch. He worked the finger inside her folds and then withdrew, pulling a hiss from her. She grabbed at his shoulders when her knees buckled.
“You can see it all you want,” she said breathlessly. “But you have to do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Talk to me with that incredible voice.” He went deep, and her inner walls clenched tight, and she moaned. “Kristian.”
His eyes darkened. “I cannot tell you what it does to me when you say that.”
“Try.”
He smiled and pulled her close. He nuzzled her ear and whispered a long string of Greek as he unhooked her bra, which he threw over his shoulder. Still murmuring, he backed her up until her thighs hit the bed. He sat her down. Somehow her thong was gone, too.
He knelt between her legs and watched her as he put his mouth where his finger had been. He did that sucking thing, like with her tongue, but against her nub and mouthed some more Greek intermittently, lips brushing her as he enunciated.
Part of her tried to pull away from the intimacy. She’d never be able to look him in the eye again, but oh, it was amazing, and she started to splinter, scooting her hips forward, involuntarily seeking his miraculous mouth.
Her head thrashed back and forth as he sucked and licked and murmured foreign words and drove her off the edge. Her spine curved as she erupted, and heat rippled from the epicenter of her climax.
He kissed her thigh, and she fell back onto the comforter, so sated her bones were like melted chocolate. He crawled up to lie next to her, and she was ashamed to note he still wore all his clothes.
“Talk to you like that?” His hands wandered into her hair, tangling it through his fingers as he stroked her jawline tenderly with a thumb.
How in the world had she gotten so incredibly lucky as to be lying naked on a bed with Kristian Demetrious?
“Exactly like that.” Her breath came in spurts. “And may I say you are extremely talented at...um, talking. But there’s this other thing I need you to do, too.”
In a daring move, she rolled and crawled on top of him, straddling him in that niche where they fit together, hip to hip. The man was hard all over, and she was dying to feel every golden millimeter.
His breath caught. “How talented do you think I am?”
“Let’s put it to the test.” She crushed a rose petal between her fingers and trailed it over his chiseled lips. “Next time I come, I want you inside me.”
Eyes closed, he wound up great bunches of comforter in his tight fists. “You’re making this very hard.”
She wiggled against his still-covered erection. “Isn’t that the idea?”
“Stop.” He stilled her hips with a firm hand on each one. “You’re driving me insane. I’m trying to do this right, and you’re not playing your part.”
“Oh? Maybe you should give me a script, Mr. Director. What should I be doing instead?”
“This is supposed to be your romantic fantasy evening, not mine.” His voice rumbled against her pleasantly. “So far, we haven’t eaten dinner, we didn’t go dancing and I nearly nailed you in the elevator. You should kick me out, and make me sleep in the car.”
He’d almost nailed her in the elevator? “Because why?”
His eyes closed for a beat. Obviously he was struggling with something. Maybe he didn’t find her all that attractive now that she was undressed. But then he raised his lids and her breath stuttered at his visible anguish. “You’re right. About what’s really going on inside me, how I suppress passion, and I’m this close to losing control. You’re so small. I don’t want to hurt you. Scare you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You could never hurt me.”
“Not intentionally.” With a swallow, he said, “This should be like one of your fairy tales. I’m trying. I really am.”
Her heart contracted, and she fell a little more. Somewhere in his whacked out creative mind, he’d come to the conclusion that romance equaled a chaste, boring encounter. He had missed the point.