Page 6 of Marrying the Enemy

“I want you to kiss me,” she confessed in an aching whisper.

His reaction was a noise of approval and a firming of his hands on her ass. He dipped his head to capture her lips with his own.

This man knew how to kiss. Maybe there would have been a gentler preamble if they hadn’t spent last night priming themselves for this moment, but he slicked his tongue between her lips, creating a damp seal that allowed him to consume her then he did.

Helplessly, she swept her arms up to cling around his neck, arching into him so she could find and feel his erection again. His hands on her backside pressed her mons firmly into that implacable ridge while he hungrily rocked his mouth against her own.

This was what she had wanted last night. What she had always wanted. Passionate oblivion. He was strong and sure and she instinctually knew he would keep her safe while absolutely ravishing her. She rubbed blatantly against him, stoking the heat that was gathering in her loins, seeking pressure against the knot of nerves that was swollen with every libidinous thought she’d had of him and a thousand new ones.

“I want that, too,” he said, holding her hips tight to his as he lifted his head.

She was panting, so disoriented she wondered if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, but she couldn’t have. Her mouth had been occupied.

He kept her hips braced in his wide hands and ground his erection against her, making her eyelids flutter.

This was a perilous moment, she realized with muted alarm. Not because he seemed to be violent or cruel, but the way he drew her so effortlessly into acting without inhibition was sobering. She liked to believe she was a strong, confident, independent woman, but this stranger was using her own sensuality to undermine her sense and willpower.

He proved it by casually skimming her shorts down her legs, taking her underwear with them.

She gasped in surprise, but her only struggle was the fight to get her shod feet free. She should have unlaced and removed her shoes, but he was peeling his shirt over his head and catching her close again.

A small cry escaped her. The heat of him! He was tensile muscle and silky hair and slow, wicked hands as he guided her to rub her near-naked chest against his. She moaned, reveling in the brush of skin on skin, not realizing he was easing her onto the bed because it happened so effortlessly. She was too enthralled with mapping his back with her fingertips and using her inner thigh to caress his leg. His arm was a hard band around her, his other hand feathered touches behind her thigh and into the heat between.

His knee went onto the mattress as the cool bottom sheet arrived against her back. He stretched out alongside her, bracing on an elbow as he pushed her bra up to reveal her breasts.

“I want to tangle you up in this thing and have my way with you. Would you like that?” He caught the arm that was between them and tucked it under her lower back. The position arched her breasts up to him while lightly trapping her. He bent to lick at her pouted nipple, making it contract into a taut, sensitized peak.

“You’re a little bit kinky, aren’t you?” she accused breathlessly, turned on but also overwhelmed by his casual control. She was half-naked, still wearing her shoes, excited, but also wary. “Do we need a safe word?”

“‘No’ works. Do you want me to stop?” His golden-brown eyes glittered with amusement as they met hers.

“You’re evil,” she accused, since she couldn’t answer his question without risking that he would, in fact, stop. “Keep going.”

“Tell me what you like.” He watched his hand as he trailed his touch down her quivering abdomen to the damp line of her folds. He lightly traced the seam, his touch stirring the fine hairs there until she thought she would die of need.

She bit her lip, breath catching.

“You have to tell me you want this, Evie. Open your legs if you don’t want to say it.”

She did. And she closed her eyes because it felt so flagrant to offer herself this way, but he made it worth it. A rumbled noise of approval resounded in his chest as he found her damp with readiness. He opened his mouth over her nipple and sucked while he explored her intimately, stoking the fire that was threatening to consume her. He circled where she pulsed and delved into the ache with one long finger, sliding and caressing while he pulled at her nipple until she thought she would die.

It was too good. She twisted in agonized pleasure, moaning with torture, tense with the struggle of fighting off a climax that had been building since she’d danced with him.

She had never orgasmed with anyone else in the room. Definitely not from someone else delivering it. It made her feel incredibly exposed to let him play with her this way, but the pleasure was so acute, so relentless, she was losing the fight.

He released her nipple. “Do you want my mouth here?” He slowly pressed a second finger into her then eased his touch up to press the swollen, needy, shivering bundle of nerves.

It was the final straw. The coiled tension within her released. She groaned long and loud, catching at his hand to hold it against her mound as she abandoned anything like dignity and bucked, consumed by ecstasy.

His mouth smothered hers, capturing her moans while he caressed her through the crisis and into the shuddering aftermath.

Then he chuckled and freed her arm from beneath her. He shifted over her. His arms caged her beneath him as he settled his still clothed hips against the damp, overly sensitive flesh of her bare pelvis. His hand took hold of her hair in a fist that was just tight enough to keep her head still while he kissed her again, deep and hungry, dragging at her lips and searching out her tongue with his own.

“I’m going to be buried in you to the root when you do that again,” he promised when he let her up to breathe.

She couldn’t wait. She roamed her hands over his back and into his shorts at his hip, shyly moving her touch forward, but stalling when she heard the muffled xylophone keys of an incoming call on her phone.

“My mother,” she muttered in apology. She pulled her hand free of his shorts and searched beneath the bunched blanket where the phone had slid. “I’ll turn it off.”

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