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He glanced up just in time to see her eyes go soft and her lips round into an O. “You’re worshipping me?”
Her tone was lightly mocking, but he could see the vulnerable sheen in her eyes.
Had no man ever shown her the adoration, the reverence she deserved?
He could tell none had. He couldn’t understand why, though. Lara was gorgeous; she was funny, sweet and clever. A sassy woman with a spine of steel. And, of course, the body of a goddess.
Looked as if it was on him.
A mission he was thrilled to take, although the first he’d ever accepted while naked and straddled.
“A woman like you deserves worship,” he said, his words just above a whisper as he slid his lips across her shoulder. His fingers trailed softly over her nipples, circling, swirling, brushing. He ran his hands over the silken-smooth flesh of her waist, her lush hips, down her soft thighs.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Lifting, he took her mouth with his. Underneath the passion was a sweetness that surprised Dominic. Her or him? The combination of the two of them? He didn’t know, but he rolled with it all the same.
Her tongue slid along his, her teeth nipping as if to urge him to hurry the hell up.
Never one to disappoint a lady, he did just that.
The pace quickened. He buried his face between her breasts, his fingers working, his tongue sliding deep into the heavenly valley. His dick throbbed.
He couldn’t hold out much longer.
“Dance for me,” he said, his teeth tight as he resisted the urge to thrust. Hard and deep. He wanted to be inside her as deep and as far as she’d take.
But this wasn’t about him.
It was about them.
Lara took over.
Her knees wedged against his thighs, she undulated. Up and down, swiveling here and there with a rhythm only she heard. But she made him feel it as she danced with his body.
Tension built, tight and needy.
Dominic gripped her thighs, his fingers dipping between to feel her wetness.
She shuddered, then shifted to welcome him into the dance.
Their eyes locked, Lara moved, slow and sensuous. Sliding up, then down his rigid cock. Wet heat gripped him, but suddenly Dominic barely felt it.
What was going on between them, the intense power in Lara’s eyes—that was an even bigger turn-on.
Her fingers teased, so light they were barely there, over his shoulders, down his pecs, across his nipples, then back again.
Her breath washed over his face, just a little ragged and minty fresh.
Dominic thrust deeper, his thumb working her bud as he moved.
“Oh,” Lara cried. Her eyes closed and her breath came in pants now.
He thrust harder. Faster.
She exploded.
Her orgasm was like a door opening.
Dominic’s heart, his mind blew before his body even caught on that it was climax time.
His vision blurred, everything going hazy.
Except Lara’s face.
Her brilliant green eyes, her pouting lip and the vision of her exploding in delight sent him over the edge.
Her body gripped him, milking every last drop of passion.
And all Dominic could think was when could they go again.
As if his orgasm pulled the plug on her energy, Lara collapsed against his chest, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. The intimacy of their position, the implicit trust in her body, sent a warning signal so loud it burst through the passion fogging his brain.
Dominic rolled, shifting so they were both flat on the floor. Even as one arm held Lara close, emotionally he took a fifty-foot vertical shift away.
Holy hell.
Dominic was a man who appreciated sex.
He considered it one of the major reasons for living. And as a fan of life, he’d made it his mission to appreciate it as often as possible.
So he considered himself something of an expert.
An expert on good sex.
An expert on dangerous sex.
He threw one arm over his eyes, as if he could block reality along with the morning light.
If he was such a damned expert, how had he ended up here? Totally screwed.
She’d done him in.
He’d set out to show Lara what it was like to be worshipped, to give her a hot, sexy time. That’s what sex was all about.
Instead, she’d blown his mind. He’d lost it.
Lost control. Lost focus.
Lost a piece of himself.
He’d never felt anything like that before.
His breath still short—a pretty rare thing for a man in his condition—he tried to calm his heart rate. Mellow, he thought. Bring it down. If he could convince his body this had just been another tumble, his mind would follow along, filing it under lust-inspired oops. A sleep-fogged mistake that could endanger the mission and totally screw with his peace of mind.
The problem was, he was reaching for her before his mind got the message. After all, if one round was bad, how much worse could two or four be?
