Page 39 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

A wicked gleam lit up her eyes, and Cross knew then that he had her caught. As she began to tug the pins from her hair, he moved past the couch to a chaise. It had been situated to overlook the windows or the piano. He sat down just as she was tugging the zipper down on the side of her black dress.

The dress hit the hardwood floor with barely any sound at all, and Catherine stepped out of it, careful not to trip in her heels on the fabric. Black lace covered her tits, and matching panties hid the heaven between her thighs.

For a moment, Cross simply let his gaze wander. It had been far too fucking long since he could appreciate the beauty of Catherine in barely anything at all. Heels and lace. She was all legs, olive-toned skin, and hair that fell to her mid-back. Delicious, addictive curves from her thighs, to her hips, her waist, and her breasts. He had always appreciated that Catherine was not a woman who associated her worth to the number on a scale. She was tone, sure, but not unhealthy.

Dainty shoulders that had carried too much weight, and collarbones that showed, and begged to be bitten. A sweet, teasing mouth with a perfect Cupid’s bow and full enough to look sinful wrapped around his cock.

Catherine wet her lips, and smiled at him. “Stare much?”

“Only at the most beautiful things,” he admitted.

She certainly fit that bill.

Catherine glanced away. “Careful, Cross. Start going in that direction, and we’ll be back to talking again.”

“Oh?”

He didn’t think that was a bad thing.

She clearly did.

“Yes, we’ll talk, and you’ll be sweet. Instead of fucking, like we’re supposed to do, we’ll end up making love. I don’t want that, okay?”

Didn’t she know? Even when he fucked her, he was loving her.

Cross chose not to point that out. He set his glass of whiskey aside. “Come here, babe.”

Catherine only had a few steps to get to him, but each one was damn near mesmerizing. She stopped in front of him, and from where he sat on the chaise, he was eye-level with the diamond tipped barbell in her navel. Unable to stop the rising urge to get a taste of that diamond and gold piece of jewelry, he reached out to grab her waist.

His hand still fit in the curve beautifully. Like she had been crafted and made only for him.

Cross pulled Catherine closer, and his mouth encased her navel. His tongue flicked against the larger diamond on the barbell, and he looked up at her. Catherine grinned back at him.

She reached over and dipped two fingers into his glass of whiskey. Cross was already kissing down her smooth stomach when she made a wet line of whiskey from just above his lips to that goddamn navel piercing.

Really, he didn’t mind.

He licked and kissed his way back up that line of alcohol, and felt the heat rise to the surface of her skin while a shiver tremored under his fingertips. He slipped his other hand between her legs, and under the line of her lace panties.

Shifting the material to the side, he stroked the line of her soft, bare sex with two fingers. Her tart-smelling arousal soaked his fingers when he stroked harder, and let his digits slide into her slit. Just enough to feel—hot, wet, and tight. All the while, he kept his gaze lifted to watch Catherine above him.

He was teasing himself.

Badly.

Catherine let out a soft, shaky sigh. “Don’t ruin my panties, Cross. I have to wear them home.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You’re terrible.”

“That’s not news. Let’s see if you still sound the same when my face is between your thighs, Catty. Widen those legs, right now.”

She did what he said without question. His fingers slid deep into her clenching pussy at the same time his whiskey-tasting tongue burrowed into her clit. The flavor of her juices hadn’t changed a bit, nor did the way she sounded gasping out his name.

Breathless.

High.