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I can barely keep up with him in my high heels, but I totter along as best as I can. Thankfully we’re nearly there, and he practically drags me across the drive, unlocks the door to our villa, and pushes me inside.
There’s no time for me to gather my wits because the moment the door shuts behind us, Huxley’s mouth is on mine, and he’s kissing the living daylights out of me once again. He walks me backward, and I meet the wall with a bump and a gasp. He takes advantage of my open mouth to plunge his tongue inside again, and my head spins as he deepens the kiss, firing me up, sending my heart pounding and the blood speeding through my veins.
His mouth leaves mine, and he plants hot kisses up my jaw to my ear. His hot breath whispers across it, and I shiver, unable to stop a muttered exhalation escaping my lips.
In response, he captures my hands and pins them on the wall above my head.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he says, his voice husky. “To hear you moan. Say my name.”
I don’t think he means Oliver somehow. I close my eyes as he kisses down my neck and whisper, “Huxley…”
He closes his mouth over the place where my pulse beats and sucks gently.
“I want you,” I whisper. “So much.”
“Have me, then,” he says. “I’ve always been yours anyway.” And he crushes his mouth to mine once again.
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth
Huxley wasn’t joking when he said he likes kissing. His mouth barely leaves mine as he gradually walks me backward through the living room and out onto the deck.
When he does finally lift his head, it’s to look out at the view, where he stops for a second and stares. I follow his head and inhale at the sight of the stars popping out on the dark velvet sky. There’s little light pollution here, with Auckland behind us, and the celestial sphere is reflected on the vast expanse of the Pacific, making it look like an endless diamond-scattered carpet. The moon is half-full to the west, and with the stars provides more than enough light to see by.
“Normally I’m not a lights-out kind of guy in the bedroom,” he says, “but I might make an exception tonight.” He looks back at me, cups my face in his hands, and strokes his thumbs across my cheeks. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I’ve watched Huxley turn his charm—his inner light—on so many people over the years, but I’ve never been the full focus of it myself, and I feel dazzled. He kisses me again, and all thoughts flee my mind except the feel of his mouth on mine, and his hands touching my face, my hair. Somehow, he shepherds us toward the bedroom, opens the door, and steers us inside. He closes the door, probably so we don’t get cold and to keep out the insects, but leaves the curtains open, so the starlight fills the room.
Now I’ve done what he asked—accepted that tonight is going to end in really, really good sex—my nerves have—mostly—fled. That might also be something to do with the wine and whisky. But I’m glad of it, because it’s as if all the barriers, the chains, and the padlocks around my heart are gone, and, just for now, I can give myself to him one hundred percent.
I start pushing the buttons through the holes on his shirt, and he murmurs his approval, still kissing me. When I get to the bottom, I push the sides of the shirt apart, and he shrugs it off his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor.
Placing my hands on his chest, I smooth them across his pecs and up and over his shoulders. “You have a magnificent body,” I whisper, tracing his powerful biceps, then coming back to run my fingers down his sternum to his navel and the defined muscles across his chest and stomach. He told me once that he pulls the bow with his whole body, and I can see what he meant now.
He starts lifting the skirt of my dress with his fingers. “I’d like to return the compliment.”
I nod shyly, and he peels the dress up, lifts it over my head, and lays it over the nearby chair. He comes back to me, rests his hands on my hips, and lets his gaze drift down me like a silk scarf. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he says softly.
I shiver, feeling the brush of his gaze like a feather over my skin. I’m wearing a cream lace half-cup bra and matching knickers I bought for the occasion, and his admiration of them fills me with a warm glow.
Sliding my hands down his chest, I stop at his belt and begin to loosen it. He helps me out, undoing the belt, then the button and the zipper. He toes off his shoes and flicks off his socks, then steps out of his trousers and leaves them on the chair.
He’s wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that fit extremely snugly. Wow. As he bends to move his shoes under the table, I get to observe his magnificent butt, and then he straightens and turns, and… whoa. I feel a bit faint.
He follows my gaze down, then smirks and comes up to nuzzle my neck and kiss my ear. “That made your eyes light up.”
“It was alarm. I’m only tiny and you’re… not.”
“We’ll have to make sure you’re nicely lubricated then, won’t we?”
“I’ll get my purse.”
He laughs. “Not this time. I told you, you won’t need it.” He kisses me, skimming his fingers around my waist to my back while he walks me back to the bed.
“Can I take my sandals off without you mocking me for being short?” I ask.
He takes my face in his hands. “I’m sorry for every time I’ve done that. I love that you’re small.”
