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Maybe with me.
I take in a shaking breath as he touches my hair, tucking a strand of the shaggy pixie behind one ear. “What’s your natural color?”
“My hair? I like the black.”
“It’s pretty, but I’m betting your natural shade’s better. And that’s not a complaint just an observation.” He moves his hand, his thumb sliding beneath my lower lip, sending a cascade of electric heat through me.
I almost swoon into him.
Taking a deep breath, I pull back as he drops his hand, and I take a deep swallow of my drink.
“Oh, God.” I wrinkle my nose. “That’s like drinking perfume.”
Leland laughs and nudges his drink to me. “Try this.”
I glance at him. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Do you want me to?” He ducks his dark head and signals for another drink. “Not really. Coherency is a turn-on, not a turn-off.”
“So, no roofies.”
His mouth quirks. “I haven’t had time, and trust me, I don’t need them.”
This time, I laugh. It’s a weird conversation of things that skate dangerously close to not okay, and the more little buttons I push and the more he seems to roll with it, the more I want to do.
Is this what stretching your wings after being caged feels like?
“You have a story, don’t you, pretty Sadie?”
“Everyone has stories.”
“Yeah, but you’re young and have this air of world-weariness as well as wildness at the edges. It’s like you’ve lived a lifetime but haven’t yet lived. It’s interesting.”
I toy with the glass of whiskey. “There’s a story, but I don’t feel like telling it.”
“Then don’t.”
Picking up the bottle, I take a swallow, close my eyes, and moan. It’s like burned caramel with bite, and I’ve never been one for beer. “Much better.”
Warm breath heats my ear, and that shiver of longing comes over me again. He’s there, mouth against my flesh—and who knew the ear was such an erogenous zone—in an almost kiss that makes me flutter and shiver and want to slow dance with him, losing clothes along the way.
I’ve never had anything like this stirred in me, not even when I was swept off my feet at seventeen by Billy, not when we had sex that first time, not when he took me down roads of kink until he got bored about two years into the marriage and found other women, other girls.
And I can’t even picture the man I married. All I can see is a sensuous mouth, that dark hair and amber eyes of the man whose mouth is at my ear. All I can hear is that rich voice of coffee and cream. All I can smell is honey and spice and tobacco leaf that morphs into pure seduction on him.
“Make that fucking sound again,” he says against my ear. “I want that from you again and again.”
I turn but he hasn’t moved, and my mouth brushes his.
The electric pulse is off the charts and from the slight raise to his brows, I’m thinking he feels it too.
And he kisses me.
Oh, yes, he does.
This is a slow kiss, a meltdown to your toes kiss. A fantasy kiss that’s come to life and I’ve just met the man.
Sarah would put on the breaks. Sadie wants to go for it.
