‘And here.’
He kisses me on the collarbone.
His hand snakes up to the back of my head, and he threads his fingers through my hair, forcing me to tip my head back.
His eyes are dark with need.
My breathing shallows.
I thought I knew what it was like to be wanted by Mark. But the man in front of me is ten times more potent than the teenage version. The air between us has weight like his desire is a physical thing, a current I can’t swim against, a current I don’twantto swim against.
He releases my hair, and when I look down, his other fist is gripping my sarong. If I step back now, the whole thing will come off in his hand. The thought makes my blood race, makes it brim to the surface, pushing against my skin.
He tugs and the sarong unravels, falling to my feet in a pool of wet gossamer.
‘You don’t like my sarong?’
‘I like it on the floor.’
His palm sweeps over the curve of my buttocks, and he pulls me against him. Then his mouth finds mine, and this time, there’s nothing chaste in his kiss.
It’s hot and hungry, and tells meexactlywhat he wants to do with me. It promises spread legs and an arched back, strong hands and a pounding rhythm.
Yes, yes, yes, is all I can think as he takes my hips and drives me backwards until the rough timber wall is scratching my back.
His eyes are almost black, and his breathing is heavy.
‘You don’t know what you do to me.’ He nips my lower lip, and I gasp. ‘All I can think about is making you come.’
I kiss him harder, pull him tight against me, feeling his erection pulse at my belly. I want to climb onto him so he can put it exactly where I need it. My reaction is so strong, so shocking, it wakes me up.
Pulling back, I shake my head, my breathing unsteady. ‘We can’t …’
He freezes, his chest rising and falling. ‘You want me to stop?’
‘No. But we can’t … not without a condom.’
‘How about I use my hand? And my mouth?’
I nod, the heaviness between my legs making words impossible.
He cups my cheek. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’
He turns me to face the wall, and presses his body against my back. My skin sings from the touch of his.
‘You shiver when I stand behind you,’ he whispers. ‘I noticed at Alexandra Palace.’ He sweeps my hair to one side, then kisses the back of my neck. ‘Is that how you like it? From behind? That’s how I imagine it. You don’t know how much it turns me on.’
He’s right, I’m trembling. I’ve never had this reaction before, never felt so weak with want, just because someone is standing behind me. It’s scary the effect he has on me, how little he has to do for me to react so strongly.
He reaches round to caress my nipple through my bikini. It instantly hardens, and when he slips his fingers under the fabric, I gasp. He rubs the sensitive bud between his fingers, and I feel his erection twitching against my lower back. I shift my weight backwards, to give him some friction, and he moans. I do it again, and he responds by yanking the knot of my bikini top, making it fall and exposing my breasts.
‘Jesus. Fuck,’ he grinds out.
I drop my head back on his shoulder. He braces one arm against the wall in front of us, and his other hand creeps down until it’s at the juncture of my thighs. He grazes me through my bikini bottoms, and his touch makes me arch my back, pushing my buttocks against his groin.
God, I want him so much.
Then he slips his fingers inside while his thumb works my clit with a pressure I can never achieve on my own. I’m so fucking close, I want to scream.
