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Chapter Eight
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Star shine. Sun glow. Lightning streaks. Electric jolts. At least a thousand more of the comparisons shot through me, evoking everything and anything I knew that was bright and bold and blinding and amazing, as he threaded fingertips into my hair…and filled everything above my shoulders with perfect heat.
God…no.
God…yes.
“Sh-shiraz—”
“Tell me.” He curled his grip in, yanking me tighter toward him. His voice was guttural and rough. “Tell me how you like it.”
“I—I don’t think…”
His gaze swept down, zeroing in on my mouth. “Or maybe you should just show me.”
I took a breath. I’d pass out if I didn’t. Or was that just the force of his power over me? And did it matter once his sharp, sexy scent filled my nostrils…once his heady, swirling heat wrapped around the rest of my body?
“Oh God,” I whispered. “This…ummm…well, this is a good start…”
His lush mouth swirled up in a pleased smile. The couch crunched as he adjusted his weight, molding himself closer. “But what happens next?”
“Errmm.” If I wasn’t so busy remembering how to breathe, I likely would’ve laughed. I hadn’t stammered my way through a conversation this much since Shari Pearson and I had run into Justin Timberlake at Amoeba Records in Hollywood one Sunday afternoon. Ditching Catechism had never been so much fun. “Well, uhhh…” Fun. Oh, yeah. This was fun, too…right? No. No. This wasn’t like harmless flirting with JT between the 80’s Punk and Classic R&B sections. But my body wasn’t listening. My mouth sure as hell wasn’t, opening and offering, “Wh-what you’d d-do next would be…”
“Soft and slow?” he provided instead. “Like…this?”
He gently dropped his head. Let his sublime lips brush in then down, flowing over mine like a feather on the wind. I tried to breathe but only a squeak came out. The sound was obnoxious but I was past caring. The currents he zapped through my body, from head to toe, were like a lightning storm from a sci-fi movie.
Dear, fucking God…
“Th-that’s good too,” I finally rasped.
A growl rumbled from deep in his chest. Though it was one of the most incredible sounds I’d ever heard, I couldn’t figure out what had generated it. Was he aroused? Unsettled? Maybe both? Was that even possible?
“Good?” he finally echoed.
“Oh, yeah.” I managed a hurried nod. “Very good.”
“But not the best.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Nervous laugh. “Honestly. You’re—dear God, you’re—”
I whimpered once more as he stole the rest of it, sweeping his mouth down again. No sweet little pressure this time, but no full-blown assault either—though by the time he finished, plying my lips with tantalizing thrusts and teases, I was practically begged for the assault. My blood thrummed with need. My senses boiled with lust. And my sex…
So much pressure. So much desire. My hips bucked from it. My body tightened into a hot, eager wire. Air rushed up my throat and out of my parted, panting lips—every breath consumed by the man strung as tautly next to me.
Ready…for what?
This wasn’t going any further. This couldn’t go any further.
Too bad fate forgot to give him that memo.
“I am what?” Shiraz demanded in a terse husk. “Is this still just…‘good’?” He nipped the curve of my chin, breathing moist fire into my skin, before parting his lips more, using the edges of his teeth along the column of my neck.
“Holy…shit.” My head fell back as my arms curled up, hands twisting into the luxurious mess of his hair. My muscles tightened as I poised for him, ready for him, longing for the descent of that delicious heat into my cleavage then across my breasts. Thank God for V-neck T-shirts—and my proclivity of taking my bra off whenever I possibly could. My nipples were painful points now, stabbing into the cotton, ample evidence of the rest of my reply for him.
“That is not an answer.”
