I began to force myself to relax.
This effort was immediately rendered futile when he pulled me into him, the length of my back pressed to the length of his front and his arm tight around me.
“I’m not a cuddler,” I shared.
“You’ll learn that too,” he returned.
What a jerk!
“Lucien –” I started.
He cut me off. “Quiet, Leah, I’m tired.”
He said this like he expected me to obey without question. Which I supposed he did. And worse, I had pretty much no choice but to do so.
“My life sucks,” I announced into the dark.
He chuckled into the hair at the back of my head.
I didn’t know when he fell asleep. I didn’t even know when I did. I just knew I did because now I was facing him, staring at his glorious chest.
I had to get out of there.
My body tensed for flight. The instant it did, his hand came up, grasped a handful of hair and tugged it down, forcing my head back. I looked up into his still-drowsy face and caught my breath.
I hated him but there was no denying he was gorgeous, especially in the morning with that still-drowsy face.
His head was tilting toward me and before I could process the meaning behind his movement, his mouth was on mine.
This surprised me. Not that he would kiss me because the detail to my job description was pretty freaking clear.
No, what surprised me was that the kiss was soft, gentle, exploratory, not hard, demanding and invasive.
I was so surprised I didn’t even think to pull free.
His lips moved on mine in sensual discovery, his head slanting ever so slightly to press deeper. It was nice, stirring me but not frightening me.
I felt him then, the heat from his body, the soft skin over strong muscle of his chest under my hands. That was nice too.
His hand at my hip slid to the small of my back, just above my bottom and it pressed in.
More heat, more hardness, more pressure on my mouth, all of it controlled but delicious. Without a thought I helped, wriggling to get closer, liking what I was feeling.
His mouth opened over mine and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, mine opened under his.
His tongue slid inside.
In a flash all gentle exploration was gone. The minute his tongue touched mine, my body exploded. My stomach dropped, my toes curled, my nipples hardened and I felt a wave of fire rush between my legs.
It was fantastic.
Helpless to stop myself and not even trying, I pressed into him full body, trying to get as close as I could. Even though I was lying down, both of my hands slid up his chest and held onto his shoulders tightly like if I didn’t, I would fall.
At my touch, he growled low in the back of his throat, the power of it vibrating through my mouth, against my tongue and I lost it. Not that I had much of “it” to lose.
One of my hands pushed under his arm, wrapping around his back. The other one curled around his neck and up, gliding into his thick, soft hair.
He rolled into me, slanting his head further, deepening the kiss, his hand at my back sliding over my bottom, cupping me, pressing in. Our tongues tangled and he tasted beautiful. I’d never tasted anyone (especially in the morning) that amazing.
I liked it. I craved it. I wanted more and I took it. I took it like I needed it, like my life had a limit and if I didn’t get as much of it as I could, I’d quit breathing the next instant.
He felt my urgency and rolled me fully to my back, his weight pinning me, his hips grinding into mine so I could feel his arousal. My body answered with another luscious belly drop and rush of warmth at my core. My hand clenched in his hair and I didn’t care if it hurt. I was going to hold him to me for as long as it took me to get my fill of that mind-blowing kiss.
Suddenly his mouth tore from mine. His head went up and cocked slightly to the side.
I did not like this.
I held his hair clenched in my fist, my body squirming under his to resurrect our contact, my breath coming in fast pants.
“We’ve company,” he murmured, his eyes dark and unfocused, a strange look of annoyance on his features.
“What?” I breathed.
He looked down at me and when he did his face gentled.
“Company,” he repeated and I didn’t process this. I couldn’t. My concentration was entirely centered on his mouth, his eyes, his face, his body, his hardness, his heat and the intense, altogether too pleasant feeling between my legs.
His face dipped closer and my mind and body rejoiced.
But he didn’t kiss me (alas).
Instead, his hand came to cup my jaw and he muttered, “I can’t tell you how much it pleases me that you need no instruction on how to kiss me like I like it.”
This pleased me too. Intensely. Considering I hated him with every fiber of my being this also confused me. Just as intensely. And, considering I hated him with a depth that was scary, this also pissed me off, at myself. Even more intensely.