I return her smile. “I’m trying to be a goddamned decent person here.” I raise an eyebrow. “From what you’ve seen since I’ve been back, you must now know how hard that is for me…”
She laughs softly. “Yeah, I definitely do.”
“It’s just… I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not fully ready for.”
“Is that you talking or is that Mr. Tequila talking?”
“Unfortunately, it’s me,” I say, shaking my head. “Definitely me. If it were up to Mr. Tequila, he’d be taking your panties off with his teeth right now.” She scoffs on a laugh, and I hug her close, wrapping her in my arms as I stare down at her. “Mr. Tequila doesn’t like to do a whole a lot of talking if you haven’t noticed.”
I watch as Violet’s grin falls from her pretty face. Her stare turns serious. Glancing up at me with a gleam in her celeste-blue eyes, she talks to me without words, and as my gaze travels the length of her body—up her stilettos, over the pencil skirt that’s a perfect fit on her sensuously curvy figure and over the blue blouse covering her breasts, I know that I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman.
No, not want. Need.
God fucking help me, I need this woman.
And she knows it.
She clutches me back, her gaze sinking to my lips as they grin at her. I smile at a sudden memory.
“Do you think I didn’t hear you in your office that first night?” I eye her carefully. “You were whimpering.”
I hear Violet’s breath hitch. “My feet were hurting from being in heels.”
“Your clothes were disheveled.”
“They usually are after a sixteen-hour work day.”
“You moaned my name.”
She grabs me as soon as I say the words, crushing me to her in a tight hold. Finishing our conversation with a kiss, Violet’s embrace gives me the answer I have no right to expect, no right to receive, and I decide to show her exactly what she deserves by back-walking her body inside, lavishing her lips with tender kisses as I drop the bags and press her—heels and all—towards the kitchen. I slam the front door behind me, moving Violet farther inside.
Lifting her off her Louboutin shoes, I set her sexy ass on top of the quartz-covered kitchen counters, my mouth trailing between her cotton-covered breasts. Placing my mouth over one tender nipple, I tug it between my teeth, ignoring the interfering blouse, prodding the nub hard enough to make Violet whimper where she sits. I spread her taut, toned legs under her skirt.
“Now if we’re going to do this, Violet…” I continue kissing across her beautiful tits. “We’re going to do this the right way. No mistakes this time.”
She exhales softly. “Depends on what you mean by mistake…”
“I mean, no regrets tonight. No fucking rules.” I start to unbutton her blouse. “I’m not your boss tonight. And you’re not my employee. We’re just two people…” I undo one button. “Who like bad tequila…” There goes the second. “And taking each other’s clothes off. No more. No less.”
She leans her head back. “Is that an order, Mr. Tequila?”
“If you want, it can be an edict.” I stop, staring at her once again. “I mean it, Violet.” I watch as she opens her hooded eyes. “I’m not going to fuck you senseless unless we’re both prepared. We’re gambling here, Esquire…” I trail off. “And we should plan on letting the chips fall where they may.”
It’s a lie…and I know it. I’m risking everything by rolling the dice to have Violet Keats in my bed, but I can’t fucking stop myself. My body is begging to sink itself inside of her. As soon as possible.
I almost want her to tell me no… because it would give me any excuse not to be better. To go back to being the stubborn, give-no-shits, thick-headed Heath I’ve always been.
But when the sexiest woman alive looks up at me, her thighs spread for me, her face full of longing, I know I’ll never go back.
She opens her sensuous mouth, pressing it into an oval before grabbing my face with a small nod. Her voice is as strained as I feel.
“I’ll take that bet, Heath.” She lifts her chin. “And anything—and I do mean anything—else you’d like to give to me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
VIOLET
I was always shit at gambling.
Risk was never my friend, and beneath the business skirt suit? I was as straight-laced as they came. It was one of the reasons my ex told me he strayed, and two years later, the flaw haunts me like a fucking phantom.
I feel it even now.
And if it weren’t for the cheap tequila in my system, the supremely sexy moonlight that shines through Heath Sparrow’s penthouse windows and the even sexier man himself, I wouldn’t take the wager—to sacrifice my heart and head on the altar that is Heath’s bed.
But I can’t stop myself.
I want him more than sanity.
The grin he gives me at my answer is enough to make me melt on the spot and when he puts his full mouth back on my body, his touch is no longer a caress, his tongue no longer gentle at all.
There’s a need in him I hadn’t seen until now. A release that he now relishes in.
He crushes his mouth to mine, devouring my needy kiss. He presses the length of his long body against me, and under his rigid muscles, I writhe on the kitchen counter, wanting more, getting it as soon as he slides his slacks between my legs, pressing an impressive erection between my thighs.
He is unyieldingly hard.
Excitement I’d forgotten how to feel blooms beneath my breast, and I grip him harshly, squeezing his solid biceps. My fingers fly to his collar, pulling at its top button. The little knob pops and as soon as the fabric parts, I latch my mouth to the skin it exposes. Sucking hard. My teeth sinking into every inch I can find.
He smells so good. Tastes even better.
A heady, smoky mix mingles on my tongue, and as I stroke my tongue at the base of his neck, Heath groans, his fingers sliding to my own blouse which he unbuttons quicker than the law should allow.
My blue blouse falls open, exposing my bra, and I exhale from the chill that hits my skin—a chill that’s stopped immediately by Heath’s pressing against my hot skin, his palms cupping my suddenly tender breasts hard enough to hurt.
I whimper his name.
With a rough chuckle—a rumble against my cheek, the beautiful beast of a man whispers in my ear, words that are so raspy, so drippingly damned sexy that I fear I might climax right there on his counter.
I bite my bottom lip, squeezing my eyes shut as he grazes my earlobe with his teeth, his touch rough and tenderly raw. His laugh licks against my skin.
“Fucking you was the best thing I’ve ever done, Keats. I don’t know how it took me so long to do it twice.”
I exhale, my body sagging from its sudden aroused weight. I sink into his touch.
“You haven’t fucked me twice yet,” I hiss.
“Haven’t I?” He chuckles again. “Hell, talking to you is fucking foreplay, getting a peek into your mind another base. Just being with you, Keats, is already a goddamned homerun. The actual intercourse? Shit…” He sighs. “That’s just one part of the fun.” His kisses sink once again between my breasts, his bite surprising as his mouth travels. He takes one taut nipple into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue, and just when I can’t take anymore, he lowers the silky fabric, exposing my aroused blush-colored areoles to the open air.