“You could kiss me again.”
“I was thinking a little payback might be more appropriate.” He slides me a wicked-looking grin.
“Payback? For what?”
“I’m sure I could think of something.” His dark head dips, his mouth engulfing my nipple over my bra and tank. I gasp at the contact, then whimper as his teeth graze the instantly tight bud. “How about trying to offload my attentions onto another. Another’s,” he amends heavily, his eyes flicking up my body.
“That was—”
“Unfortunate.”
My insides pulse as he grazes my nipple again. Grazes. Sucks. Pulls.
“A mistake,” I whisper as his tongue licks long and lushly, tracing the rapid rise and fall of the flesh above my tank. “I was trying to keep you to myself.”
It’s not a lie but maybe too much truth.
“For more than just a coffee?” he taunts. Get you a man with a mouth that taunts and teases sounds like the gold standard of advice that should be given to young girls.
“For at least long enough to prove that you don’t have tattoos.”
“I suppose that’s why you wanted me to strip.”
This he doesn’t address to my face but to my breasts. As I look down myself, twin damp circles surround my pebbled nipples. Pebbled and aching for his mouth.
“Among other things.”
“You look so pretty, Holland.” He presses a kiss to my jaw, his dark whisper coasting the shell of my ear. “So pretty being held.” It might have sounded sinister were it not for the way he pulls back to look at me. Like I’m a treasure, a boon. And maybe it shouldn’t, but the pictures his words paint curl sultrily around me.
I arch from the wall with a breathy moan.
“Oh, you like that.” As far as theories go, it might not be incredibly inspired, given my desperation to get closer.
“I like—” it. But my response goes unfinished as he steals it with a kiss that’s nothing short of masterful. A kiss that steals breath and sense, leaving a yearning pulsing in their place as he transfers both my hands into one of his, making a manacle of my wrists before pushing them above my head.
“Kiss me again, Holland.” His free hand skims my body, taking in the shape of my breast. “Give me your mouth.”
So I do. I give in to the pleasure his mouth brings in words and kisses. Give in to his roaming hands. My body convulses against his, earning me a low growl of his approval, his eyes glittering in the dark room.
“I’ve been staring at your mouth all evening.” His thumb swipes across my bottom lip, gliding through the moisture within. “Wondering how you would taste.” Withdrawing his thumb, he lifts it to his lips.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask breathily, rolling my lip inward, savouring the taste of salt from his skin.
Like he has a secret to impart, he lowers his mouth to my ear. “Those are mutually exclusive, Holland.” Sucking on the lobe, he gives it a sharp tug. “Your mouth is divine. How you taste is something I plan on discovering soon.” As he grinds against me, a moan stutters from my chest. “I hope your flight tomorrow is a peaceful one because I intend to keep you awake all night.”
My . . . what? Oh, my fictitious flight.
I send a silent thanks to the heavens for the reminder. Something tells me my wits aren’t going to be of much use tonight. Not that it doesn’t stop me from trying, a note of teasing in my reply.
“All night?”
“All. Night.” He punctuates his reply with a nip and a graze to the soft skin of my neck. “I plan on charting every inch of your skin with my tongue. Learn the mysteries of your body until I know you inside out.”
Oh, I am so down for that. So down for that my insides begin to twist and pulse as he reaches out to the dresser, flicking on the lamp.
“I don’t intend on missing a single thing.”
And he won’t. My heart sinks as my attention slides over his shoulder to the room beyond.
Behold, the tools in support of my lie.
My suitcase lies open on the suitcase stand. Next to it, a small armchair cradles my carry-on bag, abandoned like a half-read book.
Clothes spill from both. No, not spill, explode.
And the mess isn’t limited to these two. Mismatched shoes litter the floor from where I’d tried them on earlier, and towels lay strewn across the pillows of an unmade bed. Makeup and hair products litter the dresser, and for such a short stay, I seem to have used every mug and glass available to me. So four, maybe?
Surely I can’t have made all this mess . . . Except this is my room, and those are my things. Yet the picture I’d painted of myself today was sophisticated world traveller, not slob!
Alexander seems to register my horror, a question hovering on his face. A question that doesn’t require an answer as I press my hands against his chest, ducking around him, swiping up our jackets as I go.
“I’m not usually so messy,” I lie, picking up not one but two damp towels from the floor.
Has there been a bathhouse Roman orgy in this room while I’ve been out?
I drop the haphazardly folded jackets onto the bed and throw the towels in the direction of the chair, shooting him a quick smile over my shoulder. “I, erm, didn’t want to trouble housekeeping.” Mainly because I didn’t wake up until gone eleven this morning. And who wants to tidy so someone else can clean?
If I could dare to look at him again, I’m sure he’d be smiling that half-smile of his. Amused but not willing to share it. Amused and a little superior about it.
“Nice pyjamas.”
At his drawling assertion, I look down at the tank top I find in my hands. More specifically, I look at the slogan emblazoned across the front.
I’M GREAT IN BED
Without speaking, I turn the tank around until the other side is facing him.
I CAN SLEEP FOR HOURS
I slide him a look that earns me a husky laugh, but I guess it might’ve been worse. It might’ve been my Minnie Mouse onesie. My heart skips a beat as he begins to move, stalking across the small space. As he comes to stand in front of me, he takes my pyjama top from my hand.
“You won’t be needing this.”
He drops it to the bed, nudging me around to face away from him.
“I’m sure you can tell I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone back here.”
The dresser on the other side of the room reflects his neutrality on the subject. Mine, not so much, my cheeks still pink. I try to turn in his arms, not wanting to face my own embarrassment as his arm bands my ribs, drawing my body into his.
Oh, God. He’s so hard.
“Life is like that,” he says softly. “Unpredictable and beautiful, don’t you think?”
My answer is a soft gasp as his fingers tantalise my skin, sliding into my hair to bare my neck.
“One minute you’re drinking coffee, idling away an hour, and the next you’re looking at someone who takes your breath away. Someone beautiful and unpredictable.” I shiver, need blooming deep in my belly. My eyes flutter closed as his lips touch the nape of my neck. “You are a gift.” His fingers stir against my stomach, pulling my tank from my jeans. “And I hope you’ll look to me as yours.”