Page 16 of Dirty Pool

Which was to be buried balls deep in this woman.

Soon.

Michel simply winked, and nodded at the door again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Gabbie turned to the door with the key already ready to slide in the lock. “You sound confident.”

“That your neighbors are going to know my name by the time I’m done with you here? Probably.”

Her first step inside the brownstone nearly missed the ledge leading into the house from his statement as she pushed open the door, but Michel was quick to catch her with one arm sliding around her waist. He took that chance to press a kiss against the back of her neck, too, as he dragged her closer to his chest at the same time. She fit into the fold of his body perfectly as he learned forward.

The first taste of her skin wasn’t nearly enough for him, either. Gabbie’s head fell to his shoulder as he slammed the door shut behind them, and they moved further into the hallway. She dropped her clutch, and his bag went with it. The fucking jacket he’d given her to cover up with was in the way, and all that served to do was send a shot of frustration racing through his gut.

He wanted more.

Another taste.

And the jacket was stopping him.

Gabbie sighed a happy sound when Michel dragged the jacket down her arms roughly, not caring a bit that he’d probably wrinkled the blazer something terrible when it fell to the floor. He had other things to think about now. Like all the freckles dotting the line of her shoulder, and disappearing down her throat to the deep V neckline of her dress. There were too many, and he couldn’t possibly kiss them all, but fuck him if he wasn’t going to try.

He started with her shoulders, his tongue striking out to get a taste of her skin with every kiss he dotted along her body. A shiver raced through Gabbie when his hands drifted over the shimmery, slinky dress. He wanted to feel her curves—find where his hands fit, and where she liked to be touched the very most.

Sliding his hands lower as his teeth grazed the racing pulse point on her throat, he asked, “Are you wet for me already?”

Gabbie let out a quiet sound. “You should definitely find out.”

He agreed.

Letting his hands rove down over the hemline of the dress, he pulled the fabric up as his palms slid higher. There was no mistaking the way her legs trembled the closer his fingers drifted toward the apex of her thighs.

That heaven.

He bet it would taste like that, too.

Heaven, but sin.

Now, he just wanted to know if his theory was correct. But first … His knuckles skimmed over the hood of her sex, the lace-trimmed cotton of her panties soft against his skin. The next stroke went a little lower, right over top of her clit. Her hips jerked a bit from the touch, and he grinned against her skin.

“Sensitive,” he told her. “This is going to be fun for you, then.”

“I feckin’ hope so.”

Michel laughed, dark and husky. His throat just felt thick, now, because he felt like he’d been playing with her for too long. Teasing, and testing the waters just to see … and now he wanted something more.

A lot more.

“Where is your bedroom?”

“Upstairs,” Gabbie murmured.

“Undress as you go.”

He loved that she didn’t even question that demand. There was no hesitation in her decision to leave his embrace, and move forward. Peeking over her shoulder as she headed for the stairs at the end of the hall, he realized there wasn’t actually very much that she had to take off. The dress dropped to the floor first, leaving creamy skin to his appreciative gaze. Those freckles of hers were all over. He didn’t know what to look at first on her body.

How about the curve of her waist, and where it melded into hips that swayed with each step she took? Or even the roundness of her ass that had his hands clenching at his sides with the need to dig his fingers into that supple flesh—or fuck, even his teeth? Maybe the two dimples at her lower back, or the way her eyes glittered when she peered back at him again?

There was a lot about her to discover.