“You make us all crazy,” he comments evenly, while my pulse skitters when he leans in behind my neck and takes a nip. “I bet if those boys were a few years older, they’d be in the same boat I am right now. You get me so hot thinking dirty thoughts about you. I’m not sure I can wait until we get to Rome to fuck you again.”
I close my eyes and revel in the fact that he’s so naughty. I love knowing that he’s impatient for me and wants me again.
Sighing, I lift his wrist to glance at the gold-banded watch wrapped around it. The one he told me he purchased for himself in Switzerland with his first real paycheck a month after he started with theFury. His proud moment when he felt like he’d made it and done what he set out to do.
Although I was happy for him, a part of me felt crushed for myself. It was yet another person who knew exactly what they wanted to do with their life. Unlike me, a mess of greatest proportions. I wasn’t good at anything. Except looking fashionable and getting myself into trouble.
The time on his watch indicated we were still forty-five minutes out of Rome. Plenty of time for what I have in mind.
Gavin grunts when I drop his wrist back into his lap, at the same time brushing my hand covertly over the visible erection beneath his shorts.
I smile sweetly, but hope he recognizes the naughty gleam in my eye.
Leaning up to his ear, I whisper cunningly, “Give me a minute and then follow me into the first washroom.” I point toward the back of the train car that hosts the luggage racks and wash closet.
The train moves and sways as I stand, strapping my small Kate Spade purse over my shoulder so it lands at my hip, flopping against me from the motion. I try to maneuver around his long legs he has stretched out in front of me, which block my way to the aisle. I turn to face away from him, my ass practically hitting him in his chest. Gavin encircles my waist, yanking me down on top of him so I can feel his hard length.
“Fuck, you have a fantastic ass,” he growls in my ear before dropping his hands so I can scoot by.
The momentum of the train, and perhaps my unbalanced equilibrium from Gavin’s masculine scent, has me teetering on my feet as I head toward the front, passing the snickering little boys and their mothers who are talking animatedly over their cappuccinos. Finding my way to the small enclosure, I wait outside the door of the washroom, as the person occupying it steps out and holds the door open for me. As I pass him, his eyes rove over my legs appreciatively and he says something in Italian. By the expression on his face and the waggle of his thick brows, I assume it’s a compliment.
I wink and shrug past him, closing the door behind me, taking a quick check in the mirror for any make-up or hair mishaps. I haven’t worn much make-up, except last night at the club, and today I have dark heavy circles underneath my eyes which are puffy from lack of sleep.
My head is filled with images of what transpired last night and the sexy times with Gavin. A throb of excitement hits me between my legs. I slide my hand to my center, pressing into my clit to ease the pressure there.
Two loud raps on the door startle me, and I pull my hand away, but not before Gavin opens the door. He enters the small enclosure, his broad frame filling every inch of the space between us, as the door shuts behind him. The lock turns tooccupiedwith asnick.
“Were you just touching yourself?”
I remain face-forward to the mirror but look up to the reflection of his face staring at me, his dark eyes hooded, framed by long lashes.
I smile coquettishly. “Maybe.”
It feels like I just lit a match to the dry tinder between us.
“I want to watch you,” he groans.
He reaches for the hem of my skirt and twists it in his fingers, pulling up to expose my hot pink panties. My arousal is evident – not only by my heavy pants of breath, but from the wet spot he finds.
Gavin’s fingers lace through the edges and he yanks them down. When he gets them to my feet, I step out of them and he brings them up to his face. I watch, enthralled by what he’s about to do. He holds the panties to his nose and takes a long, inhale of breath.
We both curse simultaneously.
He pulls them away so I can see the devious grin that erupts on his lips. It’s then, as I watch where his hand aims, that I know what he’s going to do.
“We need to be very quiet, Kitty,” his voice is low and rumbles across my neck. “You can’t be screaming like you did this morning.”
Holy hotness, he’s going to gag me with my underwear. I’m about to protest. Or comment. Or shriek with excitement when he commands, “Open.”
And I do.
I watch in the mirror with wide, expectant eyes as my mouth complies and he places the material between my lips. He’s gentle about it. I don’t feel claustrophobic or choked. In fact, the taste of myself on my tongue is rather intoxicating and fans the flames even higher.
His mouth is at my ear, his wet lips scrolling across my neck, down to my collarbone, up my jaw. Back to my ear.
“You good?” he checks in. “I’ll remove them if you’re not.”
Goddamn, I am more than okay with this. I nod my head and give a little grunt, which he finds amusing.
