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She exhaled a string of broken air, then relaxed somewhat, shifting sideways on the leather seat. Facing him. Her smile faded. “Who are we fooling, Marcos, with this charade?”
“Marissa Galvez, Allende Transport’s owner.”
And maybe you. Definitely me.
He retrieved her hand from where it had gone to wring the hem of her dress and secured her wrist in his grip as he raised it. He turned it over and set a soft, lingering kiss at the center of her palm. A tiny, breathless gasp came from her.
“We must practice,” he murmured, gazing into those deep, bottomless eyes.
“Oh.” She shivered. Not moving away, and not moving closer, she allowed him to drag his lips along her open palm. She watched him through her lashes, her lips shuddering on each uneven breath.
“And why must we fool her?” Her question was a silky wisp.
“Because she wants me,” he huskily answered. She tasted divine. Her skin was smooth and satiny under his lips, and he predicted every inch of her body would feel just like it. Perfect. “It wouldn’t do to insult her.” Against his mouth and lips, he felt the vibrant tremor that danced up her arm. Emboldened by her response, thirsting for more, he opened his mouth and gently grazed his teeth at the heel of her palm. “I happen to want someone else.”
“I’m sure—” she began, swallowing audibly. “I’m sure you can have anyone you want.”
“If I want her bad enough and put myself to task, yes.” His lips closed and opened against her hand. Before he could restrain himself, he gave a lick at her palm. Pleasure pummeled through him. “And I’ve grown to want her…bad,” he strained out, swallowing back a growl.
“Oh, that was…” Her hand wiggled as she tried prying it free. “I don’t think…”
“Shh.”
He held her wrist in a gentle grip and raised his head. He watched her expression soften, melt, as he whisked the pad of his thumb across her dampened palm, getting it wet. He lifted the glistening pad of his thumb to her lips, his timbre coated with arousal. “Pretend you like it when I do this.”
A sound welled in the back of her throat as he stroked. She nodded wildly, her lips gleaming at each pass of his thumb. “Yes, yes, I’m pretending,” she breathed.
He’d never seen a more erotic sight, felt a more erotic sensation, than playing with Virginia Hollis’s quivering pink lips in the back of a moving car. “Umm. Me, too. I will pretend…you’re her.”
“Aha.”
“And I very much want her.” God, he enjoyed her unease, enjoyed seeing her pupils dilate, her breath shallow out.
“O-okay.”
His thumb continued glancing, whisking, rubbing, right where his mouth wanted to be. He bent to whisper, to conspire together, just him and her. “Let’s pretend…we’re lovers, Virginia.” His voice broke with the force of his desire, came out rough with wanting. “Pretend every night we touch each other…and kiss…and our bodies rock together. And when we f
ind release—”
“Stop!” She pushed herself back with surprising force, sucking great gulps of air. “God, stop. Enough. Enough pretending tonight.”
He tugged her closer. They were breathing hard and loud.
“You should kiss me,” he said gruffly.
“Kiss you.” She absently fingered his cross where it peeked through the top opening of his shirt. He went utterly still—the gesture too sweet, too unexpected, too painful.
Her fingers reached his throat, then traced the links of the thick chain.
Too aware of this now, he dropped her hair and squeezed her elbow meaningfully. “Virginia. Your mouth. On mine.”
They’d had foreplay for a year—with every glance, every flick of her hair, every smile.
She drew back and laughed, a choked, strained sound. “Now?” She couldn’t seem to believe her eyes and ears, seemed stumped for words to deny him.
The car halted at a stoplight. A few cars drove up beside them. Marcos went still, glancing at her quietly until their car continued.
He had never wanted to feel a body as much as he wanted to feel hers.
