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My eyes fell on him. He was perched on the window seat, his perfectly cut jaw seeming extra sharp in the light of dozens of candles.
“Dion?” I tried to take it all in and failed. “What's going on?”
The smile that lit up his face eclipsed the candles. Hell, it could have eclipsed the sun. And it was all I could see.
“Food.” He gestured to a plate of what looked like cheeses and bread between him and the other end of the window seat. “Date night, remember.” He winked, a goofy, almost childlike look sweeping across his face. It was short–lived, as he finally seemed to look at me properly. Whistling between his teeth, he stood, holding out a hand for me to come to him.
When he had told me to get into something more comfortable, I had taken that as code for get into something sexy. Something that he would want to rip off my body. Not that I owned anything that really fitted the bill, but I had slipped into a back satin nightgown. It felt nice against my skin and if his face was anything to go by, hugged my curves in all the right places.
It might not have been the sexiest lingerie, but it made me feel pretty. The way Dion looked at me in it made me feel beautiful. Like a goddess.
“I thought–”
Look,
“It's beautiful.”
“Yes, it is.” He didn't sound like he was talking about the snow. At my back, he seemed to quiver. “Anyway, I thought we could have a little picnic here…inside… overlooking the snow.”
Speechless, I closed my eyes.
“It's silly, isn't it?” The arm around me loosened slightly and my hands came up to keep it in place. “A dumb idea. I could order takeout–”
Not letting him finish, I twisted in his arms. My arms curled around his neck, and I brought his head down to mine so I could plunder his mouth with mine.
“It's not silly, Dion.” Playfully, I pulled his bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it softly until he groaned.
It wasn't a dumb idea. It was sweet and romantic and perfect in so many ways. Dion was a rockstar with all the reputation that came with that title and yet that wasn't really who he was. This was.
This little romantic gesture was so perfectly Dion, it made my chest hurt. He hid so much of who he really was from people. He maintained the bad boy persona so perfectly that it was surprising he hadn’t burnt out years ago.
I barely knew him, but I knew that this was the real him and I was insanely glad that he felt he could be himself around me.
“It's not?”
“No.” Shaking my head, my loose hair flew around my face, covering my eyes. Dion's hands came up to push my hair back, his hands coming to rest on my cheeks. “It's perfect, Dion.” I kissed him again.
“You're perfect, Lola.”
The hand on the small of my back moved, sliding slowly down to brush across my ass before moving up my spine, dragging the satin up with him. He didn’t touch my skin, but he didn't need to. I felt the heat from his touch everywhere. Even the places he wasn’t touching.
“Have I told you that you look beautiful?”
“Yes.” I laughed, and he swallowed it down with his lips. His tongue delved into my mouth. Exploring, demanding and so hot that I couldn't help but purr against him. Arching myself into his rock–hard chest, I rubbed my swollen, needy breasts against his chest. My nipples pebbled up under the silky black material,
I wanted him to touch me, no; I needed it. My body felt like an elastic band stretched too far. I was poised to snap back.
His kiss changed. The hands on my back became firmer. It was like he was feeding off the passion growing in me. His breathing raggedly matched mine. Fisting my hair, he tugged my head back, drawing my lips away from his.
“Slow down, Lola. We have–”
Tearing my hair free from his hands, I ran mine down his chest, dropping them lower and lower without ever losing eye contact. I cupped him through his jeans. Dion was hard against the buttons of his jeans. Hard and long and thick. My mouth watered as I remembered the feel of him plunging into me for the first time. I wanted that again. That untenable pleasure of being stretched and filled by a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
Shaking my head, I squeezed harder.
“I want to taste you, let me take you to bed and–”
Again, I didn't let him finish. Using both hands, I pushed him down onto the window seat, climbing over his lap so my knees were on either side of his hips. Curling my fingers into his hair, I forced him to look into my eyes. His were lit up from within. “No, I don't want that yet.” Fumbling between our bodies, I flicked the first button open and then the next. My fingers pushed their way inside until I could feel the top of him. Thick and hot, I swiped the tip of my finger against the beads of pre–cum, using it to lubricate his shaft as my hand moved down to curl around him properly.
