Page 14 of False Confidence

Liam leaned in, their noses bumping against each other. He trailed his tongue over her lips and her mouth parted in invitation. “Delicious.”

Jasmine whimpered, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He was still holding her hand, unable to bring himself to drop it yet, but he drew his other hand down her body and cupped her lower back, pulling her body into his.

“Liam,” she pled, the word vibrating through him, straight to his cock. Fuck. She was gorgeous.

He nipped her bottom lip, letting his hand drop lower, his thumb brushing the perfect curve of her ass. She’d been haunting his dreams since their first night together; the memories were foggy, and his brain couldn’t possibly do her justice, filling in the gaps. He needed to get his hands on her bare skin again, needed to feel her legs around him.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open just as he brushed her lips over hers in a ghost of a kiss. They were both trembling as they walked through the hallway, stopping outside their room. Liam swiped the keycard impatiently and pulled Jasmine inside, tossing the card aside and pushing her against the door.

She gripped his face, done with his teasing, and captured his mouth in a torturous kiss. The heavenly taste of her flooded his tongue like pure sugar. They’d only had one glass of Champagne each, but he could taste it—deep, bubbly, and sweet, just like Jasmine herself.

Liam’s cock strained against his pants as she grabbed his jacket. He didn’t have time to breathe before it was on the floor, her fingers working his shirt buttons clumsily. When he tried to help, she pushed his hands away, groaning as she finally unbuttoned the shirt and her fingers made contact with his bare chest.

She was a tornado, her nails roaming over his chest, then scratching down his back. Liam cursed against her mouth, pulling her backward. He almost stumbled over his dress pants as Jasmine pushed them down his thighs, like she couldn’t wait a second longer to get him undressed. Far be it from him to deny her. He kicked them away, followed by his boxers, a second before the back of his legs hit the bed.

Jasmine pushed him down into a sitting position, lifting her dress and straddling his hips. She gasped as his cock brushed against her underwear, breaking their kiss for the first time to look between them. Her pupils swallowed the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes.

“Fuck.” In one word, the air was sucked from the room, like all of his senses were dulled to everything and anything that wasn’t Jasmine. She bent her mouth to his neck, trailing kisses across his skin, dragging her teeth over his jaw, and lavishing kisses across his collarbone.

She shifted back, her dress riding up further so the mesh panel exposed her underwear, deep purple lace with a band of pink, purple, and green wildflowers. He licked his lips, trailing a finger over the mesh, and Jasmine’s head fell back. There was something beautifully erotic about her being fully dressed, exposed by floral mesh, while his cock begged for her. He lifted the edges of her dress so he could grasp and squeeze her ass, before rolling her hips so her pussy slid over his cock, the lace soft but torturous.

A whimper fell from her lips and he wanted to taste it, needed to feel her mouth on his or he was going to snap, push the violet fabric aside and press his cock into her without thinking twice. He tilted his head up, brushing kisses across her jaw until she raised her head and her lips met his like magnets. Her thighs squeezed him, and Liam gasped, his fingers digging into her ass as he moved her over his cock. Soft sounds poured from Jasmine, captured by his tongue as he kissed her fiercely.

Fuck, he was going to come before he’d even got her out of her dress if he wasn’t careful. It took every ounce of his self control to still. Jasmine opened her mouth, to protest no doubt, but it died on her tongue when his fingers found the hidden zip at the back of her dress. The black satin felt like sandpaper compared to Jasmine’s soft skin as he pulled the zip down.

The thin straps holding the dress up tied in the back like laces. Liam forced his lungs to breathe slow, measured breaths as he wound the fabric around his finger and tugged. The straps fell away as the laces came undone, the dress slipping down Jasmine’s body and pooling around her waist. But with the patience of a goddamn saint, Liam kept his eyes trained on hers as he lifted it over her head, as he smoothed her mussed-up hair.

Then, finally, he let his gaze fall over Jasmine’s incredible body. Fuck, his drunk memories had nothing on the real thing. She was breathtaking. Freckles dotted her pale skin, and a large tattoo was splashed across her ribs, curving around her belly in a burst of color. Flowers: watercolor roses, carnations, and morning glories in various shades of turquoise and purple.

“These are gorgeous.”

“They’re birth flowers,” Jasmine replied, breathy. “Maggie’s, and my brother and sister’s.”

Her stomach, thighs, and breasts were lined with stretch marks just begging for him to run his tongue across them, playing connect the dots. He ran a finger over the curve of her belly and she tensed.

“Liam—”

“Give me a second, darling. I’m committing every perfect inch of you to memory.” She was a work of art he could stare at for hours, absorbing every little detail. Liam had visited dozens of galleries, seen thousands of paintings, and Jasmine was a million times more beautiful than any of them.

She sucked in a breath, and he drew his gaze slowly up her body. How lucky he was to have his eyes on her.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, when he looked up at her. Liam ran his finger over the point of her chin.

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she said softly, her voice thick. She seemed to hear it and gave herself a little shake, clearing her throat before adding, “And that’s saying a lot, because you know that old British guy who does the weather on the morning news?”

Liam blinked at the random subject change. “The one with the toupee?”

“Exactly!” Jasmine bounced on his lap, clapping her hands together. Liam sucked in a breath, trying in vain to hold her still. “Well, I ran into him when I was getting a bagel at the airport once and he told me I had, quote, banging tits.” She put on what might have been the world’s worst English accent, and Liam couldn’t hold his snort in.

They shook with laughter, clinging to each other for dear life. “Shitty toupees aside,” Liam managed between laughs, “he wasn’t wrong. You do have banging tits.” His English accent was just as bad, but Jasmine’s laughter died in her throat as he leaned in, mapping the edge of her bra with his tongue. She loosened her grip on his shoulders, reaching behind her back to unclip the bra and, as soon as he felt the silky fabric go slack, Liam wrenched it away with his teeth.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, his eyes wide. “Are these new? I don’t remember these.” How the hell hadn’t he noticed her nipple piercings through the fabric?

He had his mouth on her before she could answer, a moan spilling from her lips before she spoke. “No, but you were really drunk last time. I got them pierced years ago at the same time as Maggie, when?—”

“Please don’t talk about Maggie when your nipple is in my mouth,” Liam said, but he wasn’t willing to pull his mouth away long enough for the words to be anything more than a garbled mess. Jasmine seemed to get the message though, because she said nothing more, just whimpered as he tugged the gold bar with his teeth. He rolled the other between his thumb and finger, Jasmine writhing in his lap.

Every brush of her pussy over his cock felt better than the last. He needed to feel her bare.

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