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“Here.” He pushed his arousal against her back once more.
Tingles shot through her. “What?”
“It’s a dragon. I saw it on stage. Your skirt was cut so low, and your leather top showed your bare back. When you turned around to signal your bassist”—he let out a gush of air against the side of her face—“I saw the dragon.”
“Oh?” Right, she had a dragon. Had been born in the year of the dragon. Thirty-fucking-four years old and still single. Still undiscovered.
And it was this man who had cost her the chance at discovery the previous night. What on earth was she thinking? She had to stop this. Yes, stop this…
His soft lips grazed the side of her neck and then her shoulder, as he pushed away the strap of her cotton tank. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His breath caressed her upper arm. “I watched you the whole time I was on stage.”
“But you…” Think, Jane. Get the words out. Forget how amazing his lips feel on you. “But you…never missed a chord. Never missed a note.”
“Mmm.” He rained tiny kisses along her shoulder blade and up the slope of her jawline. “I’ve had some training. Lots of practice.”
“But to be able to follow so well, so elaborately…”
“Shh. I don’t want to talk music right now. I want to worship your beautiful body.”
“Oh, Lord…” Jane closed her eyes and let Chandler lead her to the bed. “I can’t do this…”
He turned her to face him. His green eyes smoked. “Why not? You’re here. I’m here.”
Kisses. So many sweet sexy kisses. Tiny butterfly kisses to her chin, he
r throat. The sensual sting of his stubbled cheek rubbed against her.
“And I want you.” He pushed his hardness against her flat tummy. “I’d bet my fortune that you’re wet right now.”
Uh, yeah. Dripping, to be exact. But that didn’t change the fact that…
He slid one strong hand from her shoulder down her arm, to cup her mound. “Juicy, I bet. Spicy and wet and beautiful.”
The friction of her sweatpants and undies against her clit prickled her skin. Her blood boiled.
“You want me,” he said, his voice raspy. “You can’t deny it, Jane Rock. You want me to take you to that bed and fuck you all day long.”
God, she did! She wanted a good hard fucking. A pounding. Deep kissing, deep penetration. She wanted his cock everywhere—her mouth, her pussy, even her ass.
“Say it,” he said. “Say you want me.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. Her body was on fire, engulfed in blazing flames. The blood in her veins had turned to boiling ambrosia and her skin was both heated and chilled. Sensory overload…
“Say it,” he commanded again, his voice lower this time. More sensual.
She closed her eyes, tipped her head back. His lips grazed the pulse point on her throat and a quiver raced through her.
“I want you. I want you to take me to bed.”
He cupped her face and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. A deep kiss, a passionate kiss. Not a nice kiss. No, not nice at all. Possessive, primal, and very, very sexy.
A soft sigh escaped Jane’s throat as she let her tongue tangle with his. Again his flavor, a mixture of peppermint and musky spice, assaulted her taste buds. She deepened the kiss, letting out soft moans that got lost in the passion of their mouths.
On the bed. How had they gotten on the bed? Jane lay flat on her back, Chandler on top of her, his jean-clad erection grinding onto her fleece-clad mound. So very good. Her skin prickled, her clit pulsed. She had never climaxed fully clothed before. Never…
He rocked against her, creating just the right rhythm, just the right beat.
“Jane.” His voice was thick, husky. “God, Jane.”
