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“Don't tempt me,” I replied, smoothing my hand over the imprint my mouth had left behind and looking up at the back of her head.
“Oh, no,” she fired back sardonically, shooting a suggestive, narrow-eyed smirk over her shoulder. “I'd hate to do that.”
Standing again at full attention, my erection throbbed as Lennon turned to face me. The dress, although incredible, hadn't done her body justice. Not by a long shot. Her hips were wide, and her breasts were full and hung a little lower than most women would find ideal. Hell, maybe she even hated them. But I thought she was as stunning as any woman could be. A gothic Snow White with her black-rimmed eyes and rosy lips and ebony hair.
Against the black wings of an angel, she's come to set me free…
I swallowed hard at the swift hit of lyrical inspiration as my eyes wandered to her fingertips, hooking underneath the thong and sliding it down over her thighs.
Tumbling long into her darkness, finding the light to encompass me…
My lungs pumped with every labored breath while my hands undid the last few buttons of my shirt and pulled the damn thing off, throwing it to the floor as she stood tall to frisk me with her deep, dark eyes.
“So, you really are covered,” she commented softly, nodding and raising her brows with intrigue.
I glanced down at my tattooed chest and stomach, and a gruff chuckle pushed past my lips as I said, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Hmm.”
I looked up to find the satisfactory smile, and I was glad, fucking tickled even, to know she liked what she saw.
Then, she asked, “What do they all mean?”
The question was uttered in a whisper, held tight in her throat.
I grunted another chuckle at the black-and-gray pictures blanketing my skin.
“Honestly, most of them mean nothing,” I answered, smoothing a hand over my chest and the barbells piercing my nipples. “Just the evidence of a kid with way too much money at his disposal.”
“Oh.”
There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and I hated it. I couldn’t stand that she could be anything less than in awe of me, and I didn’t understand why.
“But I have others that are there to remind me of where I came from and the shit I love”—I grazed my fingers against the guitar over my heart—”in case I ever get too jaded.”
Or depressed.
Releasing a deep breath, I looked back to her to find a small smile, and I reveled in her approval.
Then, she nudged her chin toward me, her gaze on my lower half. “You're still a little overdressed.”
“No,” I said, my tone instantly sharp and firm. “The pants stay on.”
I studied Lennon's face, looking for any sign of warning or disgust at my demand. But none came. She only nodded with understanding and stepped toward me to find her place again on my lap and lay her hands on my bare shoulders.
“Okay,” she whispered as my arms encircled her waist.
Our tongues tangled once more in a numbing kiss. Her body slid against mine, reminding me of everything I’d missed in my four years of intentional celibacy. She was more than ready, and so was I, but my brain pulled back on the reins before my dick could do all the thinking.
“I have condoms,” I muttered into her open mouth.
“I’m on the pill,” she countered, never allowing her lips to retreat far from mine.
In any other circumstance, in any other situation, I would’ve ignored her claim of birth control. I always ran this show, and I never believed in taking chances. The last thing I needed was to get a call a couple of months later from a woman I’d forgotten, telling me I was going to be a father.
No, fuck that shit.
Yet, with Lennon, I didn’t question her intentions and instead found myself wanting to know her completely. To feel every hot, wet thrust and brand this memory to my psyche. So, I nodded and uttered a breathless, “Okay.”
