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“If I kiss you, I’d better mean it then?”
His eyes open, and his sharp stare is like an arrow piercing through my heart and anchoring itself there.
“You’d better swear your next fifty years on it.”
I lift on my toes and place my lips on his. The seconds our lips touch, he groans, and it’s like a sigh of relief and expectation, all at once.
There is no coaxing involved as Will’s mouth opens in anticipation, instantly sliding his tongue against mine and moving in sync.
His hands cup my face and weave into my hair, pulling my head closer. I do the same to his hips, urging him to fill the space between us until our bodies are pressed together so tightly that we can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.
We’ve only kissed once before, yet the way our tongues and lips dance together, it feels like we’ve been dancing for an eternity. I savor the sweet and tangy taste of the wine on his tongue as his hand moves down to my jaw, angling my face so he can move his kisses from my mouth to my cheek, my jaw, my neck, my clavicle. My skin is overtaken by this man, sending shivers throughout my body. I roll my head back and let out a moan.
“Sweet Melissa, I’ve craved this kiss for too long,” he growls against my neck as his lips move back to reclaim my mouth.
To have a man crave your kisses the way he does is invigorating. I let the rush roll over me as my butt hits the counter and his hands lower to my hips, lifting me up onto the granite.
His steel erection, uncontrolled by the loose fabric of his pajamas, settles between my open legs. I roll my hips against the delectable bulge as I wrap my legs around him.
Strong hands are in my hair, on my face, my shoulders. Will is touching me in desperation. I suppose I’m doing that as well. With free rein to finally grasp at one another, we paw and pet like animals.
The thought makes me giggle, and he breaks our kiss to find out why. I want to share my thoughts, but when I see the glisten on his lips, his dilated pupils, and the raging fire burning in his glare, my giggle subsides and is replaced by intense desire.
Will must sense my seriousness because he takes a step back. With a glance, I take in his cock straining through the fabric of his pants. He shows no remorse for his obvious attraction. Instead, his gaze is steady on mine.
The air in the room is thick, sizzling with heated lust and desperation. My panting breaths cause my chest to rise. Without Will, the draft cools me, and I can feel my nipples hardening beneath my blouse.
With nimble fingers, I undo my buttons, one by one. Will’s eyes follow my hands as I slide my shirt off my shoulders. I arch my back and unsnap my bra, letting it fall to the floor along with my blouse.
His fist rises to his mouth as he takes me in, feasting over every inch of my breasts as he bites down, holding himself back.
My fingers roll over my collarbone. “Say something, Will, because I’m sitting here with no top on and you’re way over there, and now, I’m starting to get nervous you’re having second thoughts.”
His gaze flicks to mine. “Nervous? Fuck yeah, I am. But not because I don’t want to touch you.”
I raise a brow and look to the side.
“Then, why aren’t your hands all over me right now?”
“I’m afraid if I do, I’ll come in my pants like a damn fifteen-year-old.”
William Bronson—sexy, smoldering man—has no idea how he can make me feel like the most wanton, sexiest woman on the planet with his honesty.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Can you come more than once in a night?”
His smirk answers before he does. “Easily.”
“Then, I’m going to need that mouth on these nipples right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he croons, closing the distance between us, but not before stopping at the stove and turning off the burners.
When he comes to me, his lips don’t move to my swollen breasts, but are on my lips, his tongue stroking against me in fierce, promising licks. His hands are on my hips, guiding my legs around him and lifting me off the counter.
“I liked your kitchen.” I pout as he carries me into the living room. “It was a lot of fun there.”
“You’ll like my couch more.” He settles himself onto the couch with me straddling him.
No sooner are we on the couch than we’re kissing again, his hands tugging at my hair, my fingers grasping at his shirt. He holds my hair back as he runs his tongue down my throat, stopping for a moment on my clavicle, swiping a circle in the tender spot, and then caressing down to my breasts.
