Page 86 of Miami Ice

“Yes.” I pause for a moment before I add, “The emotional foundation matters to me, and I thought you should know that.”

Now a soft smile lights up his face. “I see. So this is your way of telling me we won’t be breaking out the whipped cream and sprinkles tonight?”

“Not tonight, no.”

“Perfect, because I didn’t plan on it tonight, either.”

I’m surprised for a moment. “You didn’t?”

“Don’t think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to have sex right away.” Then he grins. “Your eyes look like they’re about to pop out of your head.”

“Well, they might. I didn’t expect you to not want sex.”

“That’s not what I said. I don’t want to have sexright away,” Beckham clarifies. “I want to do things differently this time. And that means getting to know you before devouring you. Becausetrust me, that thought has gone through my head an obscene number of times.”

Ooh!

“But … you aren’t concerned about my lack of experience?” I ask, anxiously biting my lip as I wait for an answer.

“No. If that kiss we had in South Beach is an indicator of what is going to happen when we do have sex? It’s going to be fu—fantastic,” he corrects. “Trust me, it won’t compare to your first time. Or second or third. I will make sure youshatter.In the best way possible. Andmore than once.”

Oh. My. God.

The idea of sex with Beckham now has me feeling very hot and ready to climb out of my skin.

Or climb him.

Both, actually.

“I might just turn feral with you,” I blurt out.

He roars with laughter, making me laugh, too.

“Feral,” Beckham repeats, grinning at me.

“Absolutely feral,” I insist, grinning back at him.

“I think I need to see if just a kiss can make you feral,” he says, his gaze dropping to my mouth, his voice low and dangerous.

My pulse quickens from the way he’s looking at me. My tongue instinctively flicks across my lower lip, and his eyes darken with heat.

“Just a kiss?” I ask quietly.

“Just. A. Kiss.” Beckham inches closer to me, the scent of citrus and spice assaulting my senses in the most intoxicating way. “The question is, where do you want the kiss?”

WHAT?

“A kiss doesn’t have to be on the mouth,” he continues. He releases my hand and slides his fingertips up to my neck, stroking it and sending a shudder through me. “I could kissthe side of your neck right here.” He caresses my skin with his calloused fingers.

OH MY.

I feel my chest rise and fall faster in anticipation. “Where else?” I manage to ask.

His fingertips move up to my jawline, tracing it. “I could kiss you here.”

Yes. Yes, he could.

Then they travel up to my earlobe. “Or here,” he murmurs.

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