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“I can take this however far I want?”
“Yes.”
“And if I...”
“If you want to stop, we will stop. This is absolutely your show, baby. In fact, how about I don’t touch you unless you ask me to?”
“I was going to say what if I don’t know what to do next?” she murmured.
“Then you can ask me to help you along.”
Her heart beating a million to the dozen, Naina covered the small distance that still remained between them. It was akin to flying off a cliff. But she wanted this kiss. She wanted this man, so she took a deep breath and shoved herself off the edge.
CHAPTER THREE
SHEHADTHEsilkiest-looking skin Vikram had ever seen. And as he’d said, he’d seen a number of stunning women during his career. There was a glow, a suppleness to it that he knew no amount of makeup could achieve. It made him want to lift his hand and stroke his knuckles softly down one cheek. It made him want to nuzzle his nose into the hollow underneath her ear and test for himself if she was also that silky to the touch.
Eyes wide, breathing shallow, she shuffled herself toward him slowly, carefully.
The scent of her hit him first. A subtle blend of jasmine and her that he’d remember for the rest of his life. And equate with honesty and irreverence and passion and laughter. There was a joy about this woman, despite her insecurities and vulnerabilities, that he found almost magical.
The mask she wore was black satin with elaborate gold threading at the edges and was woven tightly into her hair, leaving just enough of her beautiful dark brown eyes visible. The bridge of her small nose was revealed as was the slice of her cheekbones. For a few seconds, Vikram had the overwhelming urge to tear it off. He wanted to see her face. Not because he wanted to find out her identity.
He wanted to see her face because he wanted to know this woman. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted... With a rueful shake of his head, he pushed away the urge. It was more than clear that men had only ever disappointed her. He was damned if he was going to be counted as one of them. He wanted to be different in her memory.
When she remembered him after tonight, he wanted her to smile. He wanted her to crave more of him. Just as he would crave more of her. He knew this before their lips even touched. And he would find a way to discover her identity. He was just as sure of that too.
Her mouth was completely uncovered. Her lipstick was mostly gone leaving a faint pink smudge that he wanted to lick away with his tongue. He was already half-hard and he hadn’t even touched her. Or been touched. He hadn’t felt this excited at the prospect of a simple kiss in so long. Not since he’d been a boy.
She held the edge of her silk dress with one hand and as she’d lifted it to move, he got a flash of a thigh. Soft and smooth and silky. It was like receiving a jolt of electricity, with every inch he discovered of this woman. The dress swooped low in the front, baring the upper curves of her breasts in a tantalizing display.
He wanted to lick the line of her cleavage until she was panting against him. He wanted to sneak his hand under that neckline and push her breasts out until he could uncover the tight knots of her nipples that were thrusting against the silk now.
And then there she was, within touching distance. Sitting with her legs folded beneath her, looking straight into his eyes. One arm held the sofa while the other smoothed repeatedly over the slight curve of her belly. She was nervous and he found it both endearing and incredibly arousing. She wanted to please herself. And him. And he’d never wanted more for a woman to discover pleasure with him.
Her warm breath hit him somewhere between his mouth and jaw in silky strokes that resonated with his heartbeat. This close, he could see the tiny scar on the other corner of her mouth.
“Are you going to do anything?” she asked after a couple of seconds, sounding completely put out.
He wanted to laugh and tug that pouty lower lip with his teeth. Instead he forced himself to take a breath. He was never going to smell jasmine and not think of her ever again. “It’s your kiss, darling. You take it.”
She looked at him as if he was her favorite experiment. “Okay, here goes,” she whispered, her brow knotting in concentration.
His breath hitching in his throat, Vikram waited. Small hands cradled his jaw and cheek and then there she was, leaning forward. Pressing those lovely lips against his. Soft and tentative and incredibly lush against his mouth. Warm and smelling of mint and sherbet. A quick slanted press. Then another. A quiet drag of that wide mouth, this way and that. A tentative flick of her tongue against the seam of his lips. An exhale that played his nerve endings like the strokes of a piano. And then she pulled back.
She stroked his lips with a featherlight touch. “You’re not participating,” she protested.
“Say my name.”
She frowned and sighed. And mumbled something to herself. Something like “If you want to do anything properly, you have to do it yourself.”
He chuckled.
The minx pressed her palm to his chest. His heart thundered away at her touch. Her gaze intent, she moved the hand down to his abdomen. And then lower, until her fingertips rested against the waistband of his trousers.
A burst of strange sensation erupted around his heart and he groaned. She studied their bodies some more, as if it was as complex as rocket science. He wondered if she was just plain torturing him. But no, clearly, the woman didn’t have a manipulative bone in her body.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done to sit still. When all he wanted was to push her down onto the sofa and show her what kissing someone senseless really meant. He wanted to cover her luscious body with his, lick his way into that tart mouth and grind his growing erection into the cradle of her legs. “Do you need help?” he asked and barely recognized his own voice.
