“Oh, but you have to just try it.”
He hated coconut. Always had, or at least he’d thought he did until tonight. Taking the same fork, she sectioned off a huge piece and lifted it to his lips.
“Holy Christ, that’s way too big.”
“Just wait. You’ll love it. Trust me.”
When he opened his mouth, she opened hers, mirroring his actions as though she were experiencing the bite along with him. He closed his lips over the creamy filling, and she slowly pulled out the fork.
Candlelight sparkled in her widened eyes as she leaned in close for his reaction, probably oblivious to the fact that her breast pressed against his arm. “Amazing, am I right? I am, aren’t I?”
The filling was rich, and the crust was flaky, tinged with coconut, as well. He mumbled his agreement and had to admit it was pretty good. For a diehard aficionado, this pie must be the pinnacle. When she offered him another bite, he started to lift a hand in protest, but she got so much enjoyment feeding him, he wanted to continue to be a part of it. No, it was more than that. He wanted to be the cause.
He wasn’t expecting her kiss. She leaned over so quickly, he had no time to prepare himself, no time to double-check that his deadly instincts were still safely tucked away. With his mouth clamped shut, he ran his tongue over his palette. Nothing. So he softened his lips and kissed her back.
“Thank you for this.” Her words rumbled against him. He wasn’t sure if she meant the dessert or the kiss. “You...uh...taste delicious.”
All day, all evening, he’d been hoping she’d touch him first, kiss him first. He wanted any contact to be on her terms, and now they were. He cradled the back of her head in the palm of his hand, held her lips close to his, her tongue sticky and sweet.
When she sidled closer and a tiny moan from her throat vibrated against his lips, it was the only encouragement he needed. In one swift movement, he pulled her on top of his lap and kicked the settee backwards. Dishes clattered as her behind clipped the edge of the table. He didn’t care that glasses were broken, that wine was spilled.
From her gasp, he knew he had startled her, but she slipped her hands up over his chest and twirled a length of hair loosened from his ponytail, her breath warm against his cheek. With every ounce of willpower, he waited until she dipped her head to his again. He didn’t want her to regret any of what was going to happen. He wanted—no—needed for her to come to him willingly, of her own accord. His mouth hungrily met hers as she tugged at the thin leather tie at his nape, spilling his hair to his shoulders.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” Her fingers dug into his hair.
And the beast inside him roared.
He cupped her bottom, yanked her hips forward against the stiffened erection straining beneath the fabric of his jeans and moved against her core. She arched her back and pressed her breasts to him. When he grasped the zipper at the back of her dress, he paused one last time which surprised him. Normally, it would be all about fucking at this point, pushing himself into the woman in order to meet his own carnal needs. He cared about Mackenzie, what she thought now, and he cared about what she’d think about this tomorrow and next week.
Her half-closed eyes were heavy with passion and she clutched at his shirt, maybe a little desperately. He certainly hoped so, because he was desperate for her. He pulled the zipper down slowly, giving her the chance to stop him, but she didn’t. It slid past her shoulder blade, the curve of her spine, down to her waist, where it stopped at the small of her back. The straps fell of their own accord, baring her skin to him, and he ran a thumb over her delicate collarbone. Her pulse vibrated at the base of her neck and called out a sweet invitation just inches from his deadly smile.
No, I will take her as a man only.
With a flick of his wrist, her dress was gone. Glorious, she straddled his lap, naked except for the thin, meaningless triangle of her thong. Although he’d seen her without clothes before, this time was different. This time she was naked for him.
“God, you are so beautiful, Mackenzie. So very perfect.” Her breasts sat in his hands, neither too large nor too small, and he marveled at the softness of her porcelain skin as she trembled beneath his touch.
“I’ll bet you say that to all your honeys. Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“I have never told that to another woman.” When she lifted her eyebrow he added, “I speak the truth, whether you believe me or not. I do not lie.” About that.
His palate ached, his canines threatened to elongate, but he was ready for his body’s automatic reaction. He ran a precautionary hand around the leather band at his wrist. Although the barbs had poked into his skin all evening, the movement jostled and reopened the tiny wounds. He stifled a hiss and his primitive instincts were again consumed and dulled by the searing pain rather than by taking her blood.
She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized his face, no doubt trying to figure out what just happened. Of course, she sensed what he was feeling, although she couldn’t have known how or why. “Is something wrong? Are you okay? I’ve got the strangest sensation that you...” She had been unbuttoning his shirt but stopped.
“Shhh. Don’t worry. I am more than fine. Much more.”
When he took her nipple into his mouth and ran a thumb over the other one, he heard the ragged hitch of her breath. He circled his tongue against the delicate flesh already peaked from the cool night air and coaxed them both to even greater stiffness.
It was too cold for her to be unclothed like this, and his impatient sex would stay imprisoned no longer. With a grunt,he stood up, her legs clutched around his waist, and he carried her to the large canopied lounge and covered them with a down blanket.
He smelled her desire, stunned by its sweetness. It seemed to wrap around him, drawing him closer, pulling him in. Although he was familiar with women’s passions, this was much different, deeper, as if she called to him on another dimension.
He wedged a knee between her thighs and shoved them open. As he went to push the fabric of her thong aside, she grabbed his wrist.
“Wait. This has been all about me. Now and at the auction. It’s your turn. I want you. To feel you in my mouth, to know your taste.”
Sweet Jesus. Only a fool would turn down such an offer, but he honestly didn’t know what he wanted to feel more—her lips or her body molding around him.
