“What do you say?”
“Please,” she murmured, as she pushed against him and he felt the heat between her legs.
His mind took off, imagining how silky hot she’d feel when he touched her. “I only have one goal now. To give you the kind of kiss that makes you hot and wet and desperate for more.”
“Oh God,” she said, then his tongue found hers, waiting, ready, so fucking eager.
There was no pause. No transition. The speed simply shot to the stratosphere. Their mouths united in a hot and hungry fusion. Part of him wasn’t thinking at all; he was only feeling all this desire that swamped his body. Then another part of him was thinking intensely about how he was finally kissing her, and it was better then he’d imagined as their mouths crashed and their lips came together in a greedy union that overpowered his brain and took hold of his mind. He didn’t care that they were in a bistro, and others might be watching. He couldn’t care because she kissed him back hard and passionately in a sweet devouring of the senses. He stopped controlling her and let her go wild as she laced her hands into his hair, grasping, pulling, tugging. She was so fiery, so intoxicating, and it was like being buzzed on the kind of kisses that only spelled one thing, flashing like a neon sign advertising hot sex, coming soon.
She ran her fingers through his hair, her hands curling around his skull. She rocked her hips against him, and soon this was about to become a very indecent public display of affection on the tiny dance floor in the bistro. He barely cared though as she moaned into his mouth.
It wasn’t going to be easy to teach her to let him lead all the time when he wanted this kind of wildness from her too, this kind of abandon as she grabbed at his hair, her fingers greedily diving in and holding on.
But he was determined to give her what she’d asked for, so he reached for her hands, gripped them tightly and brought them down to her waist.
He stepped away. The look in her eyes was hazy. She was panting.
The loss of contact with her lithe, eager body was a cold glass of ice water thrown in his face. But he had a better plan.
“You stopped,” she said, on a pout.
“You’re not learning if your hands are all over me. So you’ll need to get down on your knees,” he said, and her eyes flared with a wild awareness of what he was asking. “My room. Now.”
CHAPTER FIVE
New Orleans, night . . .
He slammed the door shut behind them in one firm push. The sound of it clanging signaled a change in him. The dark look in his eyes and the stony set of his lips thrilled and scared the hell out of her too. She’d never seen him like this. Of course she’d never seen him like this. But she never even knew he had this side—a man staring down the woman he planned to claim.
He didn’t speak. He simply pointed. To the floor. Holy shit. He was serious. “You want me on my knees?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“You want to be on your knees,” he corrected, his confident, sexy voice sending a hot spark through her. She’d been on her knees. She’d given blow jobs. She wasn’t inexperienced. She knew sex inside and out and upside-down. She’d read books on kink, quirks, fetishes, and Kama Sutra. But never had she asked a man to take control like this. And never had she thought she’d like it. But her body didn’t lie. Not when the aching between her legs intensified as his hands moved to his belt, and he slowly, purposefully, took his time taking it off. Loop by fucking loop.
Like a man in control. He could do anything with that belt. He could tie her hands, swat her with the non-buckled end, or none of the above. She didn’t know and that was part of the allure.
She watched him take it off.
Oh God, her mouth was watering. This was Nate. This was her good friend, and he was stripping off his belt and flicking the leather on the floor of his hotel room.
A suite on the top floor of the hotel he operated, this room was designed for pleasure and luxury. The white bed cover was pristine, but so enticing, and the sliding doors to the bathroom were mirrored. She caught a brief glimpse of her reflection. Her blond hair was loose and curly already; the humid June weather hadn’t been able to work much voodoo magic on her tresses that were naturally on the wild side. The strap on her tank had slid down her shoulder. She looked like herself, except for one thing—the desire in her eyes. She knew her own body intimately, understood precisely what made her tick, tingle and heat up, but she’d never seen her own eyes when she was this turned on. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this turned on. But when he’d kissed her at the restaurant he’d set her heart to flames, scorching a path of pleasure from the center of her body all the way to her fingertips.
Somewhere inside her lived the slightest morsel of fear. She wasn’t afraid of Nate, but perhaps she was afraid of herself. Unsure how she’d feel if she liked submitting as much as she’d liked the way he’d kissed her, as if he owned her pleasure.
Completely.
The room was near silent—the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning.
She stepped backwards. He moved closer. She continued towards the bed. He stalked over to her. She felt like prey. Judging from the intensity in his gaze she was the most succulent meal he’d ever wanted. She stopped when the back of her legs hit the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“You told me to kneel,” she said, her voice wobbly.
“I told you to kneel. I didn’t tell you to move.”
“Oh,” she said on a swallow. She wasn’t sure how far the game went.