Page 191 of A Taste of Vanilla

“What?”

Her cheeks grow pinker.

“Warren.”

“What, Halston?”

She swallows, her pulse quickening. “I want your mouth.”

Heat tears through me. “Where?”

She grips my shirt with her free hand. “Between my legs.”

The words almost finish me as my mouth starts to water.

I pull the tank top off her before unbuttoning her jeans slowly. She lifts her hips.

I pause, and she glares. “I swear to God, King, if you’re about to talk about efficiency right now?—”

“I was going to say you’re impatient.”

“That’s so much worse.”

“I didn’t say it.”

She makes a frustrated sound, and I drag the zipper down. Her jeans slide over her hips, down her legs, taking her shoes with them until she’s left on the counter in pale blue underwear and nothing else, her hair wild, breasts bare, cheeks flushed, glaring at me like she may kill me if I don’t touch her and may kill me if I do.

I’ve never wanted anyone more.

I drop to my knees and put my hands on her thighs as I kiss the inside of her knee, then higher.

She exhales and leans back slightly.

I take my time because I want to, and because I want her to feel the difference. There’s no rush. No drunken climb up the stairs. I kiss the soft inside of her leg, spreading her legs wider with my hands.

Her underwear is damp.

I press my mouth over her through the fabric.

Her hips jerk against my face, and I grip her thighs to keep her steady. The cotton is wet and warm beneath my mouth, and I drag my tongue over her. She makes a sound that seems to echo off the walls, and I do it again as she grips my hair.

“Please, Warren.”

I hook my fingers into the sides of her underwear and look up. Her eyes are closed, her head angled toward the ceiling, and her teeth sink into her lower lip. “Look at me if you want me to keep going.”

Her eyes fly open, dark and shining, desperate but beautiful.

I hold her gaze. “Good girl,” I purr.

Her breathing goes ragged, and I drag her underwear down her legs and discard them on the floor.

She’s about to say something when I press my mouth to her, and her words break into a moan.

She tastes like heat and want and Halston. For several seconds, I can’t think at all. My hands tighten on her thighs as her legs part even wider and her fingers clutch my hair. I groan against her because I’ve wanted this since I left her apartment that morning.

I lick her slowly at first. Long, deliberate strokes that make her body soften and tense at the same time. She’s already wet and sensitive, and her hips move toward my mouth despite her attempt to stay still.

I pull back just enough to say, “Do not behave now, Hal.”