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He leaned forward and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth drew closer, his breath caressing her chin. “You.”
…
Finn swallowed hard, then lowered his head, capturing Veronica’s lips in a kiss. Sweet, salty, innocent, and feral, all wrapped into the press of his mouth to hers.
With one glance at a spatula, his vivid imagination had managed to start something he couldn’t take back. Didn’t want to take back, ever.
Her hands traveled up his chest and connected behind his neck. He caressed her rib cage, then moved his arms around her back. Lower and lower he caressed her, until he kneaded the tight flesh she had squeezed into a black skirt.
His touch elicited a moan. A sexy, needy, pulse-pounding moan he’d longed to hear since his feelings tipped over the line of friendship and set up camp in Inappropriateville. How this woman turned his insides out.
She had put forth an enticing proposition. One he intended to accept, but he needed to make sure she meant every word. They were sinking into dangerous territory, and he cared for her too much to risk their friendship on misunderstandings. He pulled away and whispered, “Whatever I want? Whenever?”
She nodded, a breathless, “Yes,” whispering out of her mouth.
His smile turned wicked. “Not just in bed? But anywhere I say?”
She scrunched up her eyes and glanced around. “You mean…here? What fantasy could I possibly fulfill in the kitchen? I think I just proved I’m a terrible cook.”
“Who said anything about cooking?” He traced the edge of the spatula down her throat with a sly grin. “I’ve got the hardware. Do you have an apron?”
Her eyes widened as she focused on the utensil, but she nodded.
“Then, that’s all we need. For round one.”
“Yeah?” she squeaked.
He lifted a hand and caressed her cheek. She shuddered under his light touch, and he knew this was going to be a long and very satisfying night.
Sliding his finger down the side of her face to her chin, he tilted her head up so their eyes met. “Don’t chicken out on me now, little one.”
She swallowed hard and his cock twitched in his jeans. Even her throat muscles’ contracting was sexy.
He knew he might have to take the reins firmly in hand at some point. But he didn’t think she would hand them over completely. Without even knowing it, she had set the stage for one of his most vivid fantasies. And it was about damn time it came true.
“Do you want to fulfill one of my favorite fantasies?”
She nodded.
“Good. You’re going to do everything I say. Starting with taking off all your clothes.”
Her breath caught.
“And when you’re totally naked, put on the apron and bend over the counter.”
He’d only dreamed of this a thousand times. And every time it was Veronica bent over the kitchen table, her ass swaying back and forth, teasing him, begging for him to spank that delicious bottom. And only when her skin was red and throbbing with need, her desire glistening between her legs, would he position himself behind her. He smiled. “On second thought, keep the boots on. You’re going to need the height.”
He stepped away and let her do her thing while he removed his button-down shirt and let it fall to the floor. She undid the top button of her blouse, then the next, until the silky fabric gaped open, revealing her black bra. With every button his desire grew more intense, his breath more labored, than with the button before.
Next, she released the belt that wrapped around her waist and pulled it thorough the loops of the black skirt. The thick silence of the moment only fueled the sexual tension between them. And when her hands disappeared behind her back, the sound of the zipper’s descent played like a soundtrack to their sexy times.
She turned slowly, pivoting on her right toe. Her skirt gaped open at the back to reveal a thong that matched her bra. She pulled the garment down, revealing more and more creamy skin as she wiggled out of it. Finally, the skirt slipped free and pooled around her feet. Beneath her boots, black stockings encased her legs to mid-thigh, topped by a thick band of lace. An excellent addition to his fantasy. And it might serve as a good resting place for the spatula between spankings.
With her skirt on the floor, her blouse hung free. The tiny strip of exposed skin from her belly to her neck was sexier than any form of nakedness.
She removed the blouse slowly, torturously slowly. She had learned some valuable skills in that burlesque class.
With every bit of clothing she took off, her hands trembled a little less. Her chest heaved a little slower. Funny how she was more confident naked—in her own skin.
