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“Says the woman whose first book is being published in three months,” he teased.
“Okay, that was a little dumb of me. But I feel the same way. I can’t imagine not waking up with you every morning. This last year with you was the best and the worst year of my life. And I want that. I want all the good parts, and all the bad parts, as long we’re together while we’re going through them. I have never felt so safe with anyone, or as sure about anything as I am with you.”
“So…this is a yes?” he asked with an arched brow, and I realized I hadn’t given him a definitive answer. “I want to make sure, in case I need to take this back to the jeweler.”
I laughed and raised my head up to kiss him. “Yes. Absolutely.”
He laced his fingers with mine as he pushed my hands back on the pillows. “I like the sound of that. ‘Yes.’ I wonder how many times I can make you say that word tonight.”
With a lift of my hips, I rubbed myself shamelessly against him. “Do you mean ‘yes, Sir,’ or just ‘yes?’”
“I’ll take either.” His grip tightened on my hands, and he sank his teeth into my neck.
My squeal of laughter drew out into a long moan as he nibbled and sucked at the hyper-sensitive spot behind my ear.
“I think I’m going to spend a very long time with my head between your legs tonight,” he murmured against my jaw.
“Oh, fuck yes,” I gasped. We’d been together a year, and he could still drive me crazy with just a few well-spoken dirty words.
“That’s two.”
He slid down my body, his big hands bracketing my ribs and working my silky nightgown up. He kneaded my breasts through the slippery fabric.
Before I’d gotten together with Neil, I’d been convinced that I just wasn’t made for long-term relationships. I’d dated guys casually and gotten bored of them within months. Now, I was in the longest relationship of my life, and I couldn’t get enough of my boyfriend.
Fiancé. Holy fuck was that amazing. Just thinking about it gave me a heartgasm.
His chin scraped over my belly—okay, there was like, one good thing about the beard—and he circled my navel with his tongue. “Look at you, writhing like you’re in heat. I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”
I moaned as his fingers skimmed up my inner thigh. “A minute ago it was ‘I can’t live without you,’ and now I’m ‘in heat?’”
He slipped his fingers beneath my panties and skimmed between my labia. He was right, of course; I was hot and wet and ready for him.
“You’re suggesting that it’s a bad thing,” he murmured against my hip. “You know I love the way you want me.”
I grinned at him as he pulled my panties slowly down my thighs. “Ego, thy name is Neil.”
He growled and jerked my panties down the rest of the way, then his mouth descended on me. I gasped and curled up when I remembered what our plans had been only moments before. “Wait! What about the fireworks?”
With a last, sucking kiss, he lifted his head. “You’re right. You don’t want to miss those.”
He got up and gave me his hand to lead me down the stairs to the living room. With a flick of a switch, he cut the lights, leaving the house in total darkness but for the gentle illumination of the city lights curving around the bay. He led me carefully around the furniture, to the tall windows that stretched from the second floor to the third.
“It’s almost midnight,” Neil said, stepping up behind me. One hand closed around a chunk of my hair, the other gripped my upper arm as he nuzzled behind my ear. “Would you like to do something a bit frightening?”
My breath caught in my throat as he walked me forward, one slow step at a time, until my toes touched the edge of the very short windowsill. My knees bumped the windowpane, and I gave a startled “eep!” as he pushed my body flush against the glass. It wasn’t a terribly far drop below, but that wasn’t what I was worried about. I was worried about the lighted path that ran along the waterfront past Neil’s house.
“Someone might see,” I whimpered, but I knew I wasn’t going to hold out for long. The hand at my arm
fell to my hip, kneading through the silk.
“That’s half the fun, darling.” His hand worked between my breast and the glass. His thumb stroked over my hard nipple through the lace applique.
Slowly, he slid his hands down and followed them, kneeling on the floor behind me. Pushing up the silk, he bared my backside to the cool room. With a palm splayed across my mound, he canted my hips back. To keep my balance, I braced my chest and forearms against the window, and I gasped.
He kissed over the curve of one buttock, his fingers slipping into the cleft between and sliding down. One fingertip caught the top of my opening and gently stilled there. “Now…where were we?”
The naughty thrill of doing something truly wicked overrode the part of my brain telling me that being eaten out in front of a giant window in the capitol city of a small European country on a night when everyone else was going to be looking out their windows was a dumb, dumb idea.
