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And now he had that damned birthday card to deal with. Nikhil shook the unwelcome memories from his brain.
Tonight wasn’t about revisiting his grubby past. Instead, tonight was about indulging in the unexpected seduction of this moment. And the temptation that was Isla. He intended to learn every millimetre of her oh-so-sensuous body. With his hands, his mouth, his tongue. He didn’t care which.
Though preferably all three.
He wanted to touch her and taste her. Lord, how he wanted to taste her. He wanted to drink her in as though he were a parched man and she was his oasis.
‘One night, Little Doc,’ he heard himself grind out, scarcely able to lift his head from her neck. So hot, so smooth, with the faintest tang of salt in the still-hot night.
‘Yes,’ she muttered, arching her body into him and letting her head tip back as if to grant him better access. As if half-afraid he was going to move away.
‘That means no recriminations once the morning comes,’ he repeated, only he wasn’t sure who he was reminding. Her? Or himself?
‘I’m well aware of what it means.’ She yanked her head up abruptly and scowled at him. ‘I’m not a gullible teenage girl. But I can’t control your morning tantrums.’
‘No, I meant you...’ It took him a moment to realise that she was teasing him. Playing him at his own game. He rather liked that. It was like a fresh kick of desire in his gut. Lower, if he was going to be honest.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he growled, lowering his head back to that sensitive hollow at the base of her neck—where she seemed to like him the most.
So far.
‘You should learn to stop talking,’ gasped Isla, slicking her fingers through his hair just rough enough. ‘One might think you’re overcompensating.’
‘Say again?’
He lifted his head again, though he still kept her pinned to the wall with his body.
‘You’re building yourself up to be God’s gift,’ she continued, though he noted with some satisfaction that she couldn’t keep the desire from thickening her voice. ‘It would be a terrible disappointment to discover your mouth is making promises that your body can’t deliver.’
Was she seriously questioning his prowess?
‘Oh, believe me, my body can deliver.’
‘So your mouth keeps saying—’ she heaved a deliberate sigh, and the shakiness of it shot through him all the more ‘—but your body...’
‘Trust me, Little Doc, my mouth can deliver too.’
‘Sorry?’ This time it was her turn to question.
Just as he’d intended. He shot a smile that felt infinitely wolfish.
‘My body can deliver. And so can my mouth.’
She stared at him for a moment, and then a deep stain spread over her cheeks and down the elegant line of her neck.
‘Oh...you mean...’
‘I intend to eat you alive, Little Doc. Until you sob my name.’
‘I won’t sob your name.’
He wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a promise or a challenge. He found he didn’t care.
‘You will,’ he assured her with conviction. ‘And you won’t only sob it, but you’ll shout it, and you’ll scream it. Right before you beg me for more. And more again. I intend to make absolutely sure of that.’
She made a delicious half-strangled sound, and he asked himself what it said about him that he wondered if that was the kind of sound he would hear again and again, as she broke apart in his arms.
He was so hard that he ached. Barely able to resist the wicked urge to drop to his knees right here, lift that flimsy dress of hers and prove his point once and for all.
