When I pull back, Harper eyes me like a starving wolf before a mouth-watering steak, his heated gaze making my cock twitch in my jeans. I must look just as eager.
“Looks like we don’t need the cot after all,” I say.
“Are you sure?” He blinks. “We’re on the sex step?”
“I sure hope so.” To make the point, I climb onto his lap.
“Works for me,” he says with this sexy little growl and his lips crash against my own once more.
Making Beautiful Music
Dodger
This beautiful guitar needs to be safely out of the way. I stand and carefully tuck it into its case, making sure the latches are secure before moving it to the armchair in the corner of the hotel room. I turn back to the man who gave me such a perfect gift, his golden eyes tracking my every move.
He closes the distance between us in a heartbeat, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that matches my own. I moan as his tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him, eager and greedy. Who knew Detective Strait-laced would kiss like this? Like he’s trying to devour me whole.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth, his hands coming up to cradle my face.
“Too many clothes,” I mutter, barely breaking contact.
He yanks his tie loose and starts on his buttons. I strip my t-shirt off and toss it somewhere behind me not caring where it lands. Then Harper’s chest is bare, and holy shit, all that smooth golden skin stretched over hard muscle.
“Like what you see?” he drawls.
“You know damn well I do,” I shoot back. “But I’d like to see more.”
His body is a fucking masterpiece, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, abs that look like they were carved from marble, and thighs that could probably crush a man’s skull. Adusting of golden hair across his chest that narrows to a trail disappearing beneath his belt.
I want to follow that trail with my mouth. I want to see what else Harper is hiding under all that control.
When I reach for his belt buckle, his hands cover mine, stilling them. “Slow down. We’ve got all night.”
“Are you seriously telling me to be patient right now?” I complain.
“Yes, I am.” His mouth finds my neck, and I tilt my head to give him better access. My eyes flutter closed as he traces a path of fire with his lips and tongue, finding a spot just below my ear that makes me whimper.
He makes a compelling argument, but I think I can make a better one.
I reach down and palm the growing hardness in his slacks, feeling him throb beneath my hand. A low growl rumbles through his chest and into mine. When his hands grab my ass and haul me up with ease, I think he’s going to throw me down on the bed and forget the whole slow and patient thing—until we hear a whine and the soft padding of paws that can only mean one thing.
