A soft sigh, and our breaths mingle. I take in the air between us and stroke her pillowy mouth with mine. Excitement breaks throughout my body, making every nerve ending prickle with life. Her fingers dig into my forearms, and I deepen the kiss, invading her mouth with my tongue. Hers glides against mine, and an electric ripple runs down my spine. The flush on her cheeks deepens until they’re almost crimson.
Another sound, half sigh and half moan, comes from her throat. She flexes her fingers, then tilts her head back to offer me better access. I cup her nape and plunder her, taste the sweet syrup, berries and spice. She kisses me back, more enthusiasm than technique, but the raw display of desire is sexy as hell. My blood runs hotter than ever, pooling into my now-rigid dick.
If I had a condom, I might be tempted to carry her to bed. But I don’t—and pregnancy would be stupid in a temporary situation like ours.
I cradle her face with one hand, swiping my thumb slowly over her cheekbone. She leans into my palm, wrapping her hand around my thick wrist. Tenderly I trace the shell of her ear and she shivers.
Sensitive. Mmm.
I take the earlobe between my lips and suck, running my teeth along the tender flesh. She moans softly, tilting her head to the side. “Oh my God, Ares. Okay, you pass,” she says, her lips wet and swollen.
I laugh darkly. “Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”
Chapter Eleven
Ares
Lareina’s eyes grow wide, a question fleeting in their depths, as though she can’t believe what she just heard. Or perhaps she just can’t digest my words at the moment. But surely she didn’t think she could throw out a challenge and not be met with some pushback?
I trail more kisses along the taut skin of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smells so good—shampoo and citrus and warm female flesh. Tastes amazing too, like her skin was soaked in honey. Shivers run through her. She moans softly, one hand digging into my hair and the other clutching my shoulders.
My callused fingertips graze along the delicate lines of her collarbones. I keep my touch featherlight, teasing. She moves her legs restlessly, breaths shuddering in and out of her as she loses herself in the fire I’m kindling in her blood.
Wherever my fingers touch, I follow with my lips, licking and sucking. The more I taste her, the more I crave her. She’s like fine whiskey in my blood, fiery and intoxicating.
Moaning, she shifts in her chair, squeezing her legs together as though to ease an empty ache. Carnal triumph curls in my belly at her reaction. I draw the lapels of her robe aside, revealing the sweet slopes of her breasts. Her nipples are the color of ripe raspberries. My mouth waters. She’s feminine perfection, supple, warm and stunning.
She twists subtly under my hot gaze, her body undulating, beckoning me. Her lust-glazed eyes beg for more.
She says she’s never done it, but she’s more sensually demanding than any woman I’ve been with. The stark honesty in her desire is the hottest aphrodisiac.
I raise my hand, letting it hover over a breast, so close that I can feel her body heat, but not touching. I look at her, cocking an eyebrow in silent inquiry. I don’t just want her to want it. I want her toadmitit.
Her throat works as she swallows, then nods.
“Good girl,” I say, voice full of wicked satisfaction.
I close my hand over her breast. Our marriage may be fleeting, but for the moment, Lareina is mine.
Mine to possess, mine to devour, mine to defile, corrupt and worship.
I knead the silky weight gently, stroking the upper and lower curves with my thumb as though they’re the wonders of the universe. Her eyes flutter shut as she throws her head back and squirms. A rosy flush in her cheeks spreads all the way to her chest. Her breathing grows shallower, and my cock hardens impossibly at the signs of her rising arousal.
Her eyebrows knit, as though she’s torn between the desire to keep going or stop. Maybe she wants both at the same time, from the way she’s biting her lip.
I bite back a curse as she digs her fingers into my shoulders, then arms, silently begging and urging. The movement is earnest but clumsy. Shock colors the small gasps and moans tearing from her gorgeous mouth. She says she’s never had sex, but she’s twenty-nine. She couldn’t possibly—
“Have you ever fondled yourself?” I ask.
She blinks, her eyes hazy with need. “What? No.”
“You’ve never even masturbated?”
Her cheeks grow redder. “No.”
I narrow my eyes in disbelief. “Why not?”
“Don’t want to get caught. People tend to barge into my room, and—”
