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Instead of fighting against the inevitable, my fingers slip to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer until I can feel the heat of his breath drifting across my lips. That’s all the coaxing it takes for his mouth to descend.
The moment we collide, I open, wanting to feel the velvety softness of his tongue as it mingles and dances with my own. Our mouths stay fused for an endless amount of time. No one has ever kissed me quite so thoroughly or deeply. The way he consumes me, drinking in every part, is like a revelation.
It only makes me realize how truly dissatisfied I’ve been all these years and how much I crave his long, drawn-out kisses and the soft caresses against my bare flesh. I’m all but starving for him.
He pulls away enough to ask, “Which room is yours?”
When I point to the one on the left, Crosby stalks toward the open door with me held securely in his arms. Once inside the dark space, another kiss unfolds. He devours me one sigh at a time until I’m squirming against him, needy for more.
Needy for everything he’s willing to give.
He only breaks contact long enough to lower me to the floor until my heels are firmly planted on the carpet. My heart pounds a painful staccato against my ribcage as I take a shaky step in retreat.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Instead of answering, one hand slips behind me before finding the zipper that lies against the curve of my spine. His gaze stays pinned to mine as I gradually drag it down the length of my back. Other than our breathing, the grind of the little metal teeth is the only sound that fills the room. The sparkly fabric loosens from around my body.
Once I reach my lower back, the gown falls away, revealing my breasts as it pools around my waist before eventually puddling at my feet. Even though it’s tempting to glance away and cover my bare breasts, I keep my arms firmly at my sides and allow Crosby to silently look his fill. I can almost feel the heat of his gaze as it licks over every dip and curve of my naked flesh. The only piece of clothing shielding me from his view is a thong that barely covers anything.
It takes effort to draw in a shaky breath. It’s probably the first one I’ve taken since zipping up that gown.
“You’re so fucking perfect I almost can’t stand it,” he growls.
Pleasure floods through me. There has never been a time in my life when I felt perfect. It’s always been the opposite. My mother’s voice has been a constant chirp in my ear since I was twelve years old and slammed headfirst into puberty. No matter how hard I try, eradicating a decade of her passive aggressive comments from my brain has been nearly impossible.
For some reason, I believe Crosby when he says I’m beautiful. There’s a certain look a man gets in his eyes when he’s admiring an attractive woman, and that’s exactly the way he’s staring at me.
“I’ve dreamed about this moment for years,” he says, moving forward.
When he’s close enough, his hands rise to cup my breasts. A little sigh of pleasure escapes from me as he palms my flesh, squeezing the soft weight as if attempting to learn the shape and feel of them. It doesn’t take long for my nipples to stiffen into hard little points. Each pinch has an arrow of pure arousal shooting to my core before exploding like a firework.
Just when it feels like my knees will turn to jelly, he forces me toward the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. The backs of my knees hit the mattress before I’m falling onto the softness.
Straightening to his full height, he takes a moment to stare down at me. One hand rises to scratch the stubble that covers both his chin and cheeks. “Do you have any idea how sexy you look with your hair spread out around you like a fucking halo? You’re like an angel. One I can’t wait to dirty up.”
His words detonate another round of explosions deep inside me as I squirm beneath his penetrating stare. I’ve never wanted sex with anyone the way I do with him. It feels like years of buildup have culminated into this single, crystalline moment.
The longer he stares, the more restless I become for his touch.
A knowing look enters his eyes as he loosens the tie from around his neck. “You’re all but crying for it, aren’t you?”
Is there any point in denying the accusation?
“Yes.” Unable to help myself, I shift against the comforter as need pumps through every fiber of my being. The way he watches me makes my skin feel feverish and tight. It’s as if something is scratching beneath the surface, attempting to claw its way out. I’m almost frightened of the need he’ll unleash within me.
