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“I don’t think so.” Glancing toward the audience, Allie squinted against the spotlights, memorizing the faces of the people in the crowd who were ready to sacrifice her like some virgin to a hungry god of lust. Tessa was number one on the list.
Then she thought about it. Mmm…hungry lust god. Interesting. True, she wasn’t exactly a virgin, but she wasn’t that far from it. She could honestly say it had taken far longer for Hank to come out of her during childbirth than his loser father had ever spent going in.
“I could help you with your addiction,” he said, the words almost cajoling.
She gave a surprised little yelp, wondering if he’d seen something in her face that had indicated just where her thoughts had temporarily drifted: Near virgin plus hungry lust god equals lots of great sex for lonely Allie. “My addiction?”
He pointed down to her side, where the huge, almost-forgotten bag of cotton candy hung limply between her fingers. “You obviously like cotton candy. A lot.” His voice remained soft, melodic almost. As if he was already hypnotizing her.
Man, he was good. He’d be very good.
She nodded. “Who doesn’t?” Some deep, impish impulse made her lick her lips and add, “It’s so delicate—pink and soft.”
Ignoring the crowd, keeping her voice low, she focused only on the man who obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with. If he thought he was going to take control of this conversation and make a fool out of her in front of all these people, he was about to find out otherwise. Allie didn’t give up control easily, and she definitely wasn’t a complete ninny, despite doing a pretty good impersonation of one for the past few minutes.
If the man wanted to play a few sexy word games, however, she would most certainly accommodate him. Innuendo was about as much sexual interaction as she was likely to get for the next twenty years or so, until Hank grew up. She wasn’t about to bring random guys around her little boy.
Her voice now a throaty whisper, she added, “I just love taking tiny tastes of it, almost kissing it into my mouth until it melts into a warm pool of sweet liquid. Mmm.”
There. Let him try to maintain that calm, in-charge tone when she’d thrown some pretty blatant sexual suggestion at him.
His jaw tightened. His thick muscles—easily visible beneath the satiny shirt—tensed. And his breathing slowed, as if he were focusing on drawing each breath in and then expelling it out in a determined effort for control. “I like picking it apart, piece by piece, morsel by morsel. That way it gets all over my fingers and my lips,” he murmured.
Oh. Wow. He was coming back at her. Verbally and—judging by the subtle shift of his body forward—physically. She reacted immediately to his words, her breath catching, her pulse skittering. A warm flow of awareness began to ooze through her body, already hot under the lights.
“It’s sticky,” he added. He was close enough now that his chest brushed hers. “And I like to lick off every tasty bit.”
Nearly unaware she was doing it, Allie lifted her hand to her mouth. She brushed the tips of her fingers against her lips, almost tasting the cotton candy she hadn’t even opened yet. Almost tasting what she suspected he was really talking about—the delectable flavors two bodies made when having hot, steamy, sultry sex. Not that she’d ever actually had that kind, but oh, she’d read about it. Fantasized about it.
“And maybe bite it, very carefully.”
She instantly remembered his comments in the shadows about biting and the lazy river of warmth flowed a little further, a little deeper. All the places on her body that wanted to be tasted by him as if they were sweet, spun sugar on a stick awakened and sang with anticipation.
There were a lot of them. And the overwhelming theme of their chorus was “Yes, yes!” with a few “Hallelujahs” thrown in. She needed no hypnosis to desperately want this man. Yet she felt as if she were under a spell, anyway.
“So, should I cure you of this need you have?” he asked. He spoke softly, intimately, for just the two of them.
“What if I don’t want to be cured of it?”
“You merely want it satisfied, is that it?”
“Maybe.”
He looked down to where their bodies touched, his chest to hers, their hips a whisper apart, his black pants against her jean capris. “I think there’s enough to satisfy you.”
She followed his gaze, saw the tightness of his pants and suspected he could absolutely satisfy her. “Definitely.”
“I was talking about the cotton candy.”
“I wasn’t.”
It was crazy. They were complete strangers. They were also in full view of a bunch of people—on stage, under the spotlights no less. Yet all she wanted was to throw herself into this man’s arms and see if his mouth was as magical for other things as it was for those sweet, sultry, seductive whispers.
You can’t. No. She couldn’t. Unless…. “Are you wearing a microphone?” she asked, still remaining close—so close.
He shook his head; not surprising since she’d seen him using a hand-held mic earlier.
“So, they haven’t heard much of what we’ve said?
