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He pressed his finger to my lips. “Government bureaucracy is a nightmare. So, if there’s anything you want to know, you’ll have to ask me.”
“You’re a liar. And an ass. And bossy as hell.”
“Maybe. But I’m the bossy, asshole liar who is going to save you from yourself.”
I pressed my hands against his chest to push him away but lingered with my palms flat and warm against him instead. “I don’t need saving, so you can drop your protector act.” I had to admit, the words might have packed more of a punch if I hadn’t been effectively feeling him up when I said them.
“It’s not an act,” he whispered in my ear. “But maybe you should tell me what you do need.”
I wrapped my hands in his shirt and arched ever so slightly. I couldn’t help myself. My god, that voice, right in my ear… He didn’t miss a beat. He caught my hips with his hands and gently ground against me. He was thick and hard through his slacks.
“Tell me,” he said again.
“That’s not fair,” I whispered. “I know you’ve researched me by now, too, and you know I haven’t dated anyone in six months.” Not since the kidnapping. I hadn’t had the time, the patience, or the interest to get involved with anyone. Until now.
He widened his eyes, and I wondered if he had known that little fact, after all. “So, it’s been a while. Is that all this is?”
“Maybe,” I lied. I knew damn well there was more to it than that. TJ Russo wasn’t some hot rando off the street. I was drawn to him like a magnet to true north, and for some unfathomable reason, I trusted him with my life.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
Maybe he was reading my mind. He was definitely reading my body, running his hands up over my ass and hips and waist, lingering just below my breasts.
“Despite your assessment of me,” he continued, his busy hands never ceasing their exploration, “I haven’t lied to you, and I haven’t been that much of an ass. Bossy, I’ll grant you that.” He leaned close, his face a fraction of an inch from mine. “I think you like that.” He brushed his lips against mine, and fire ripped through me. “Is that a kink of yours, Ashlee? Do you want me to tell you exactly what to do?”
No. At least it never had been. But right now, the way every inch of my body tingled when he suggested it... “Maybe.”
“You’re not sure?” He kissed the shell of my ear and whispered again. “Then let’s find out. Take off your shirt. Now.”
This was a game, and I wanted to play it. I wanted to know what he would demand of me next. I wanted to find out how he would reward me for obeying. I gripped the hem of my T-shirt, pulled it off over my head, and dropped it to the floor.
He pulled me tightly against him and kissed me again. I pressed against every inch of him that I could reach. Our lips parted, and our tongues touched. I was intoxicated by his scent, his taste, and his hard chest against my nearly naked breasts. I reached behind my back to undo my bra.
“No,” he said against my mouth, then pulled slightly away.
I dropped my arms to my side.
He kissed my shoulder, then the swell of my breast. He reached behind me and undid my bra clasp, then flicked first one, then the other strap off my shoulder, watching intently as the garment slid down to my elbows, then down over my hands and to the floor. He cupped me with both hands and stroked my nipples with his thumbs. The sensations shot down the length of my body. With his lips and tongue, he traced a slow path down my neck, lingering at the sensitive juncture between my throat and clavicle, his hands constantly caressing me. He dropped lower still and sucked one nipple between his lips, grazing me ever so gently with his teeth.
My clit throbbed. I sucked in my breath and moaned out something incoherent. I arched again, desperate for his hands and tongue to move lower. But he took his time with each breast, stroking, sucking, and nibbling, then he moaned deep in his own throat until I thought I might come from that alone.
He stood and kissed me again. I unbuttoned one button on his shirt. He laid his hand over mine.
“There are rules,” he whispered. “You have to ask.”
I licked my lips, eager to press them to the tattoo on his chest and taste his skin. “May I take off your shirt?”
He stroked my breast as he shook his head. “You forgot the magic word.”
“Please? May I take off your shirt, please?”
“Please what?” His eyes were hooded, but his pupils were wide. He was as turned on as I was and enjoying our game.
I licked my lips again and felt his cock jump against my hip. I would remember that. “Please, sir, may I take off your shirt?”
He nodded and helped me finish unbuttoning it. I slid it off his shoulders.
“Please, sir,” I was enjoying this more than I could have imagined, “may I kiss your tattoo and lick your nipples?”
