“You are.”
“Really. In what way?”
“You’re not famous.”
She tilted her head back and laughed, then hitched her dress up, revealing her thighs as she straddled him. Just as he imagined, she had killer thighs.
“Gee, you sure know how to compliment a woman.”
She wound her arms around his neck and leaned in, her br**sts brushing his chest.
He’d really wanted to spend more time talking to her, to show her that he wasn’t primarily interested in getting in her panties.
But with her body full-on against his, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo—something sweet that made him want to lick her skin, and he figured, screw it. He really did want to get in her panties. He swept his hand down her back, mapping his way through a mix of skin and the sparkly dress. He tucked his hand inside, definitely preferring the skin part.
Tara moaned and got closer, as if she wanted to crawl inside him.
Oh, yeah. This was the warm-up. He was ready to get in the game now. He reached up and started pulling pins from her hair. She tilted her head back and lifted her lips.
“Determined to destroy my Cinderella image, aren’t you?”
He dragged a pin from a golden strand and let it fall to the floor, then dove into the softness of her hair for another. “You get any more beautiful and I might drop dead.”
She arched her brows. “You’re very good at that.”
“My sister liked having her hair put up.”
“No, not that. The lines.”
He shook his head. “No line. Promise. You’re gorgeous.”
She looked like she didn’t believe him. Obviously no one had told her lately how stunning she really was. A damn shame, since the naked honesty in her eyes could make a man do anything she wanted. He pulled the last pin out of her hair and shook it loose, letting it tumble across her neck and cheeks.
“Amazing. Soft.” He inhaled. “Peaches.”
She giggled, and the sound vibrated against his chest.
“I don’t know any women who smell like peaches.”
“The shampoo was on sale at Walmart.”
Yeah, he could seriously like this woman.
TARA DRAGGED IN BREATHS AND LET THEM OUT IN rapid succession. Hyperventilating and passing out would be the most embarrassing thing she could do right now, but Mick’s face was buried in her neck, and it was a serious erogenous zone. If he licked her there, she’d rob a bank for him.
When she felt his tongue glide across her throat, she quivered all over. Mick tightened his hold on her, and then the bastard did it again. Goose bumps popped out along her flesh, desire roaring to an inferno inside her. Her ni**les beaded, aching for his mouth to do to them what it was doing to her neck right now. She could already imagine him sweeping his tongue across her ni**les while she watched. She’d lift her dress and slide her hand inside her panties and rub her throbbing clit until the orgasm she so desperately needed made her scream.
Damn, she’d been alone with her vibrator and late-night Cinemax for too long. But she wasn’t going to get herself off tonight. Tonight, Mick was going to make her come, and if she got her wish, it wasn’t going to be just once.
She almost laughed at her bold audacity. It just wasn’t her at all. But dammit, she wanted Mick, and she refused to apologize for being a woman in the prime of her sexual life who hadn’t been getting any for a very long time. And she was being held and kissed by one of the best specimens of male humanity she’d ever seen—a guy who for some reason seemed to really want her. No way was she going to second-guess herself or pass up this opportunity.
Mick held his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp in a way that wasn’t at all medicinal. It was sensual, designed to drive her half mad with lust. And oh, did she have the lust thing going in a big way.
His other hand rested at the small of her back, his fingers tapping along the top of her butt. Tara felt his erection as she shifted on his lap, and her panties dampened as if this were the first time she’d ever been close to a c**k before.
It felt the like the first time—the first in a long, long time. She’d thought denying herself was a wise idea, all things considered. Right now it didn’t feel wise at all. It felt stupid, because she’d forgotten how utterly awesome it was to be close, to be kissed, to be touched by a man.
She held on to his shoulders and leaned back, searching his face, wanting to memorize how utterly beautiful he was. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue, like some faraway ocean she’d likely never visit. No wonder women fell all over themselves to get close to him. He had rugged features and full soft lips that didn’t seem to belong on such a masculine face. His nose was a little crooked, making his impossibly faultless face just a little less perfect. She liked that. Too flawless and she’d feel inadequate.
“You’re staring.”
His breathing was hard. Just like his cock. She liked that, too. “Can’t help it. It’s the eyes. The face. The body. Hell, it’s the whole package, Mick. You’re gorgeous.”
He cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Men aren’t gorgeous. Women are. You are.”
She knew she wasn’t, but hey, she’d go along with the fantasy tonight. Especially when he stood, sliding his hands under her butt to lift her. She wrapped her legs around him, her dress inching higher up her thighs. The room got a few degrees warmer as he walked her down the hall, not once taking his gaze from hers.
He made her feel special, and no one had done that for her in a while.
He shoved the door open with his shoulder, and Tara got a glimpse of wide windows and cloudless night sky before Mick placed her in the center of one incredibly large, soft, king-sized bed. He moved on top of her, his hands positioned on either side of her shoulders, holding himself off her by just the barest of inches, making her lift to brush her br**sts against his chest.
“Tease.”
“You’re the one teasing. Get down here and kiss me,” she said, needing to feel his body crushed against hers.
“I’m too big to be on top of you.”
Big. On top. Didn’t that conjure up images that made her wet. She palmed the back of his neck and drew his head down. “I think I can take it.”
Mick uttered a low growl and dropped down on top of her, his body pressed against hers. She realized the sheer size of him as he lay full on her, but she knew from the tension in his body that he held his weight from her. Still, the pressure of a man’s body on top of hers felt so damn good she could cry. His c**k rubbed her thigh, and a rush of heat enveloped her, making her lift against him, arch toward what she wanted more than anything.