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Wanted his afterburn one more time.
She couldn’t remember the last time her skin had felt so tight and responsive. She didn’t want to question it. Didn’t want to play it safe.
Safe made no sense tonight.
She covered his mouth. There was no teasing between them. Foreplay had been the air between them, the lights and the music that followed him around like its own forcefield.
Power and haunting charisma drenched in charm.
She felt the hint of his smile before their tongues tangled.
Slick and dominant, he brought every want into the foreground. She’d believed the lies she told herself. That she didn’t need to be touched. She could live without passion.
Now she’d learned otherwise. The starvation diet never worked. As soon as she’d sampled off the forbidden tray, the craving had become all-encompassing.
Hot. Worse than any drug she could imagine.
Want eroded sense. Sense floated away the moment his taste infiltrated her body.
He demanded participation with a tempting wind of lips and tongue. Just when she thought she would need to rip herself away to breathe, he adjusted their kiss and offered a hint of oxygen.
Just enough to feed the beast building inside her chest.
In one sweeping move, he lifted her then carted her across the room. He dropped suddenly and she went free-falling into his lap. Startled, she tried to find her footing, but he pulled her astride him.
“Feel that?” He dragged his lips over her chin to her jaw and down the column of her neck. “Feel how hard I am?”
She sucked in a breath. Please don’t talk. Don’t make me think. He nipped at the strings of her halter top to move them before he wrapped his lips around her pulse.
Gone.
She was simply gone.
Thoughts slid away into the corners where mistakes didn’t matter. Under the dark cover of shadows, she forgot to be the responsible Chloe. The next song urged her to roll her hips against him. Faster. The sensual words of the song emptied her brain.
His lips brushed over the material of her shirt. He scraped his teeth over her ribs then back up to hover over her nipple. A whisper of hot breath then a tease of teeth at the tip made her shudder. Her moans drifted out over the cacophony of voices.
He stared up at her.
Was he asking permission?
No.
It was demand.
He didn’t give her time to think about saying yes.
He grinded her down on his cock.
Fuck.
The word was foreign even in her own head. But it belonged here in the relentless beat of the song with this hard, hot male under her.
He was just a body. This was just sex.
It was just a basic need that was finally coming to the surface. But no other man in three years had come close to drawing even a fraction of this out of her.
Hunger so thick and consuming it battled with the alcohol she’d fed her out of control inner bad girl all night. Except being bad felt so damn good.
