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He made a savoring sound and sucked harder. Then reached up to cover the other breast, the one that wasn’t naked. He massaged it through the sweater while his hot mouth all but devoured her.
She turned to liquid.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit, this was getting atomic level real. He’d called it. Insane. Nuts. Had she really told him to suckle herandbrought him down to her? Had they doctored the sugar in her espresso? Her hand fell away in dismay with the return of sanity.
Bastian released her nipple with a pop, emitting a harsh,“Fuck.”
Fuck? Proper Bastian Spencer had just come out with “fuck”?
Not only that, he was openly salivating. His mouth was open and his tongue sliding along his bottom lip. Silently daring her to stop him,again, he gathered up the flesh with painstaking slowness and plumped it up, splitting his attention from the bared globe with its swollen peak to her full mouth to her slumberous eyes. She felt the odd sensation of being worshiped.
He said thickly, “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” and blew softly on the peak, hissed another “Fuuuck,” stroked one finger across it, then with a soft groan withdrew and backed away out of touching range. “Damn, Paula Raymond. You’re dangerous.”
Dangerous? Au contraire, the word wasdestroyed. All she could do was swallow air.
It had happened.Thathad happened. Before lunchtime, the day of Christmas Eve, partial nakedness had happened, sexual arousal had happened, second base had happened, with a high-risk man she hardly knew.
Stupid!
What the hell?
“Damn yourself, Bastian Spencer,” she managed finally. “Do you always grope women right after you meet them?”
“Afraid it’s my first time. What about you, do you always respond like that?”
“Like what?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Like you’d let me put my mouth anywhere on that luscious body of yours.”
“Uh-uh. That won’t happen. I need to know a man a lot better than I know you before I go there.”
He looked dubious. “Same with me.”
“Oh, really?
“I’d make an exception for you, though, anytime. Just say the word.”
“Uh-huh. No, thanks.”
“But you aren’t insulted,” he persisted.
Feeling ornery, she shrugged and started restoring her clothing.
“Are you?”
“No,” she muttered between her teeth.
“So will you come with me?” It was her nipple he spoke to, just before the sweater slipped back down over it.
“Who are you asking, her or me?”
“Paula…” Raising his eyes to hers, he sat back on his heels. “Be my date.”
“Don’t try to tell me you don’t have a long list of other women you can ask.”
“But it’s true,” he murmured. “There is nobody else.”
“Okaaay.” He was blatantly lying, she was sure. “Then how about this: why should I?”
