Page 64 of Bone Dust

She obeys and moves close. After a few minutes, she pulls her hand back. I watch as she examines her fingers. Confident there’s no blistering, she slides her cold hand into mine.

I look down and meet her eyes. She goes up on tiptoe, her lips so close to mine I can feel her breath. Desire catches fire inside of me, but I have to stop, reminding myself that this is just dinner.

“Savi, you’ve had a bit to drink.”

“Shh. I’ve had one glass and I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” The deep tone of my voice is strained.

“Yes. I do.” Face to face. Eye to eye. She presses her lips to mine and parts them with a flick of her tongue. It’s a sultry invitation, and I accept. Nothing feels as good as the velvety feel of our mingling lips and twisted tongues. This is our second kiss and it is so much sweeter than our first.

I feel drunk.

I hook my arm around her waist and pull her into me. A soft moan as her breasts hit my chest sends a rush of blood to my cock. This is new. I’ve never been sober when with a woman, other than our kiss that firefly night. She pulls back, breathless.

“I …” Her gaze darts away then comes back to meet mine. “Ian.”

“Maybe we should stop.” I take a step, but she pulls me back.

“No.” The heavy whisper is sweet in my ears.

Her head falls back. I kiss her throat and inhale her scent.

“Woman,” the word rumbles against her throat. “What you do to me …”

“Shh.” She pulls up, the sound teasing my ear, and then runs her tongue along the shell. A sound deep and guttural steals my voice.

Her fingers play at my waist, then she slides a hand down inside my sweatpants. My thoughts go askew, and I suck in a breath. Does she realize I’m basically a virgin? That I’ve never experienced a woman’s touch without being fucked up or drunk? How could she? Why would she? This? This isn’t sex to me. It’s a whole new fucking experience.

There’s an intense but playful look in her eyes. I don’t expect it. Pretense isn’t her style. She doesn’t have to act at being slutty or sexy. She’s simply having fun.

She looks up at me with thick, dark lashes fluttering over sky-blue eyes and takes my cock in her hand. There’s no fabric to dodge between my pants and my cock. No boxers, tighty-whities, or other such bullshit. I don’t wear anything more than I need and prefer nothing between me and my balls.

“I want you to fu?—”

“I won’t. Don’t even say the word.” She pulls back, rejection making her blush, but I refuse to let her escape. “I want you; I do. But what I want to do doesn’t resemble the definition of fucking. For me, fucking has always been quick and dirty. I’ve had that. I want more with you.”

“But you said?—”

“I know what I said but you’re the first woman who means something to me. I want my first, sober, meaningful sexual experience to be with you. I don’t want to fuck you, Savi. I want to make love to you.”

“Tenderness softens her expression, and her posture slackens. She melts in my arms as I hook an arm around her back and the other beneath her knees and lift her. There’s so much testosterone surging through my body she feels as light as a feather.

I press my lips to hers, needing more of the taste that she’d awakened as I carry her into the bedroom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Savannah

Ifeel young, and I feel old. The girlish crush I had on Ian has been replaced by something more. Something I could never have anticipated. I don’t know where this will lead, and I don’t want to analyze it because, for tonight, I simply want to love him.

He sets me down on my feet and my toes curl into the plush carpet.

“Let me see you.” The words carry a hint of begging as his voice drops to a husky depth.

His tone caresses me with the coffee-rich sound and elicits a thrill that sends a shiver down my back and raises goosebumps on my skin. I pluck the zipper beneath my arm with shaky fingers as I move to remove my dress. The plastic teeth separate easily. I cross my arms and pinch the fabric at my hips, inching it upward until I’ve clutched the hem. Ever so slowly I pull the garment over my head and in burlesque queen fashion I hold it out to the side of me then drop it to the floor.

He sucks in a breath as my breasts come free. The tips instantly stiffen from the slight change in temperature. Goosebumps surface immediately and skate freely over my skin. Though the Nevada nights hold a chill, warmth flushes my face as I stand bare before him except for the minute covering of a lacy, black thong.

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