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“Why do you have a classic car magazine hanging out under your bed? I thought that’s where guys normally kept their porn. That’s where Charlie kept his.”
“Who’s Charlie?” There’s a growly note to Dash’s voice, and I wonder if my argument about saving his life will work as well as it did in my mind.
“A friend. Sorry, I didn’t plan on snooping. But it was a tripping hazard, and I was concerned for your head.”
“My head?” One eyebrow curves up sharply as he sits down next to me. The mattress bows downward and my body rolls into his. In particular, the front of my pelvis rests against his lower back. No naughty parts are touching, but suddenly a whole lot of heat is boiling in my lower belly.
“Yes. Your head. You have a very nice one. I enjoy looking at it. Probably more than I should, but I figure since you kissed me, I’m allowed to now.” Oh no. The dreaded babbling cliff approaches. I try to focus on the magazine, tracing my eyes over the cherry red fender of a Mustang to distract myself from the way said handsome head is staring at me.
But I find that’s impossible to do when a set of long fingers plucks the reading material from my hands and tosses it to the side.
“You kissed me, too.” Dash hovers over me, his arms braced on either side of my torso as I lay reclined on his bed.
“I did.”Is that husky voice mine?
“I’m allowed some things, too.”
“What kind of things?”
Dash doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he leans down to trace his nose up my neck before placing a kiss in that perfect spot between the corner of my jaw and the bottom of my ear.
Shivers wrack through me like I’m suddenly standing on the street in NYC in the middle of winter without my coat. Only here it’s not the icy bite of wind, but the gentle bite of a sexy man bringing on the reaction.
Dash continues to kiss me there as he brings his hand to rest on my rib cage. From the curve of his mouth, which I can feel on my skin, I get the impression he’s enjoying his effect on me.
Tired of being passive, I reach up to find the bottom of his shirt, only this time I don’t fiddle with it like a shy girl. Instead, I delve my hands underneath the fabric, spreading my fingers over his taut back.
“Paige,” he groans, his hot breath caressing my ear.
“Yes?” I stroke him hard enough to feel the tense rolling of his muscles.
“Don’t start something unless you want me to finish it,” he whispers the warning just before his teeth pinch my earlobe.
My back bows upward, pressing me fully into him.
“Finish me. It. Whatever. Yes. Consent given.” Babbling. I’m rambling like a loon, but Dash doesn’t run away.
The man rests his forehead against mine as groaning laughter spills out of him. Our eyes clash, and I find myself hypnotized by the dark intensity of his gaze.
“You asked for it.” Dash presses a hard kiss to my mouth.
Before I can recover my senses enough to respond, he’s gone, dragging more of those lovely open-mouthed kisses down my neck.
Pleasure courses through my body.Is this what it would feel like if I grabbed a car battery with my bare hands?The way my body tingles and heats I have to be conducting some kind of current. I’m surprised there aren’t any blue sparks ricocheting between Dash’s lips and the exposed skin on my chest.
What’s more, I haven’t felt this way in years. Maybe ever. If the chemistry between Martin and me was ever like this, it’s been so long time has dampened the memory. Or maybe Dash’s steady downward path is successfully destroying my long-term memory.
Nothing matters other than him continuing on his journey.
The coarse brush of his fingers on my shoulder brings about another shudder. He slides the strap of my tank top down until my nipple peaks out over my neckline. The tank top has built-in padding, so I nixed the bra.
“Pink. So fucking sweet.” Dash’s lips brush the hard bud as he talks, and before I can formulate an answer, he tongues the sensitive tip. All I can manage is a moan as I squirm underneath him.
Just like with my ear, he gives a firm pinch with his teeth before retreating. I work to drag in deep, steadying breaths, attempting to calm the shaking of my body. But, like my nipple is the power button on a vibrator, I can’t seem to shut myself off.
Dash doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too intent on dragging up the hem of my long skirt.
When the material reaches my knees the shaking freezes. All of me freezes.
