One Night, White Lies. Jessica Lemmon
and curvy yet slimmer physique was the once-shy younger sister of Gage. She didn’t want to become suddenly undesirable or untouchable.
So not an option.
Distracting him as best she knew how, Drew stroked Reid’s crotch, pleased when the material of his pants tented invitingly. He groaned, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he took his sweet time.
She was ready—absolutely aching to have him inside her. He loosened his hold on her, and she untangled her legs from his waist to stand on her feet. She unbuckled his belt and worked his fly open as he tore his mouth from hers to suck in a breath. He freed her from her shirt and once her lacy pale pink bra was revealed, he froze, his attention on her breasts. They were generous and always had been, but appeared even bigger in the silky demicup bra she’d purchased to match her shoes. Her D cups were swollen and pressed together, her deep cleavage an invitation.
It was an invitation he eagerly accepted, cupping her breasts and lowering his face to kiss the tops of each one.
She’d worked hard on her body—keeping her waist trim and legs toned took a lot of work and effort. And since she’d worked hard, she was going to enjoy her reward. Him.
She unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, kissing her here and there as he did. She ran her hands over the expanse of his golden skin, and he tugged one bra cup down and sucked on her nipple. Her back arched, sending her breast deeper into his mouth, the resulting dampness in her panties a welcome warmth.
His mouth is the eighth wonder of the world, she thought, dazed by his skill.
He moved to her other nipple but before he could blow her mind, a sharp knock at the door preceded a call of “Room service!”
He lifted his face to hers, his eyes glazed with arousal. She fisted his hair in protest, and he winced in pain.
“Sorry,” she muttered, letting him go.
“No, I’m sorry.” He sent a baleful look in the direction of the door. She didn’t want him to stop or even pause. She didn’t want to give him a single moment to reconsider or change his mind. She couldn’t bear the rejection.
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm before bending to retrieve her shirt and pressing it over her exposed breasts.
“Bedroom.” His voice was rusty and sexy as hell. “I’ll take care of this.”
He crossed the room, his shirt and pants open, his hair a disaster.
Her grin was downright arrogant.
She’d weakened Reid Singleton’s knees. What a powerful feeling that was. And he didn’t seem anywhere near done with her yet.
At the door Reid buttoned his pants and ran his hands through his hair, sending her a wink as she backed into the shadows of the bedroom.
Reid didn’t bother closing his shirt or tidying himself much before letting the hotel employee in. He’d ordered champagne and strawberries, after all, which should’ve made it obvious that he was having a romantic interlude. He did tuck his hips behind the door when he opened it. What he was hiding from view would be too much information for whoever would wheel in the dessert cart.
A shaggy-haired guy who couldn’t be more than twenty-one shuffled in looking bored and tired. Reid retrieved the first bill he saw from his wallet and stuffed it in the guy’s palm.
Bloody hell. Reid had given him a fifty in his haste.
The kid held up the bill and blinked at it. “Wow. Thanks, man.”
“No problem.” Any amount of money was worth returning to his date as quickly as possible.
Door shut, Reid flipped the safety lock as Christina appeared from the dark bedroom. Her skirt was in place, those incredible shoes crisscrossing up her ankles. Her shirt was still missing—a good sign—and she was wearing a pale pink bra that barely encased her gorgeous breasts.
Those breasts might be the death of him, but what a way to go.
She repositioned the cups almost self-consciously as she walked toward him. He knew her breasts were both beautiful and delicious. He’d have to take more time admiring and tasting them. He also wanted to taste those thighs and higher. He’d had her legs around his hips, her molten center warming his straining erection. He needed her, and he needed her now.
“The cart’s arrived.” Not what he wanted to say, but he thinking was a challenge with all the blood flowing to his nethers.
“I see that.” Her smile was so sweet that he couldn’t shake the idea that he was taking advantage of her somehow. The way she’d said earlier that she’d been ready longer than he knew hinted that it’d been a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Likely longer since she’d had a man who knew what he was doing in her bed.
Through the women he’d known, he’d learned that men didn’t make it their priority to pleasure a woman. Which was criminal. When gifted with a beauty like the one standing before him, how could Reid not take his time exploring every inch of that body to learn what turned her on? What made her moan or giggle? What made her gasp in surprise or go to the brink of where only he’d be able to take her...
Best not to rush if that was his goal.
He grabbed the champagne bottle by the neck and took it from the ice bucket. His date’s smile slipped as her eyes went to his hands working the cork. Worry puckered her brow.
“Did you...change your mind?” she asked, and bless her breasts, she actually sounded serious.
A rough chuckle escaped him as he popped the cork from the bottle. “Definitely not. I’m attempting to be a gentleman.”
“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman? What if I prefer hurried over slow?” She glided across the room like a petite runway model, skimming the couch with her fingertips, her shoulders back, those inviting breasts jiggling as she walked.
“Why? Have you somewhere else to be?” He filled the two flutes and nestled the champagne into the ice before lifting a silver dome to reveal rows of ripe red strawberries and a bowl of melted dark chocolate.
Her pink tongue touched the corner of her lips.
“A gentleman wouldn’t rush to undress you right away. A gentleman—” he dunked one berry into the chocolate “—would sample the chocolate off your nipples while feeding you a strawberry.”
She sucked in an anticipatory breath. He had her full attention.
“A gentleman—” he carried one of the flutes over to her “—would sip this from your belly button before kissing you where it matters most. Ever had an effervescent orgasm, Christina?”
The heat in her eyes banked. “I prefer love.”
A request he’d heard before. Some American women liked that term, he assumed because of his accent. He wasn’t below fulfilling their fantasies.
He approached with the strawberry, chocolate delicately balanced on the tip. He lowered it to her mouth while saying, “Ever had an effervescent orgasm, love?”
She took a bite of the chocolate-covered berry, her eyelids, coated in a shimmery gold shadow, sinking shut. She moaned, a soft “mmm” that turned him on far more than it ought to. With this woman it seemed the anticipation of what came next was as exciting as the act.
Fantastic.
He polished off the rest of the berry, tossed the stem aside and kissed her. She tasted of chocolate and sweet red fruit. When she looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes begging for what he’d promised.
“You’ve been with the wrong men, love.”