Page 9 of The Wedding Wrecker

"Tell me to stop," he muttered against my neck as he trailed hot kisses down my throat. "Tell me this isn't what you want."

In answer, I pulled his mouth back to mine. He growled—actually growled—and suddenly I was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me to a nearby table.

"Here?" I managed between kisses.

He paused, breathing hard. "Anywhere,” he rasped, hands already greedily exploring me.

I rolled my hips into him, drawing a glorious groan from his lips. “Is this a bad idea?” I asked suddenly.

He paused, eyes practically smoldering in the dim room. “Only one way to find out.”

While I thought that wasn’t technically true, I was way,waypast logic, so I shut up and kissed him like my life depended on it.

3

EMMA

His kiss was electric, consuming, the kind that made me forget everything except the way he felt against me. His hands explored my entire body with passionate urgency.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he muttered against my neck.

I laughed breathlessly. "You're one to talk."

His eyes met mine, dark with desire. "Fair point." He shrugged out of his shirt while I worked on his belt, both of us fumbling in our rush.

I ran my hands over his skin, tracing the hard planes of his stomach, reveling in the way his breath hitched when my fingers dipped lower.

Distantly, I wondered what the hell I would do if somebody happened to come down here and find us. Somehow, I couldn’t quite muster up the presence of mind to care.

James was consuming every spare inch of my brain right now, and I wasn’t sure I would’ve even stopped if I heard a bomb going off.

"Your turn," he said, voice rough as he reached for the zipper of my dress.

The fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me in black lace that made his eyes go even darker. "Christ, Emma." His hand skimmed up my side, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. "You're fucking perfect."

I pulled him back to me, desperate for another kiss. He obliged, pressing me against the table as his hands roamed my body with increasing urgency.

His mouth found my neck, alternating between soft kisses and gentle bites that made me squirm. "James," I gasped as he found a particularly sensitive spot.

"I love the way you say my name," he murmured, trailing kisses down my collarbone. His hand slipped beneath my bra, thumb circling my nipple until I arched into his touch.

When his other hand found its way between my legs, I nearly came undone right there. He smiled against my skin, clearly pleased with my reaction.

"Like that?" he asked, moving in slow, torturous circles.

"God, yes," I managed. Then, because two could play at that game, I reached down to stroke him.

He groaned, hips jerking forward. "Emma..."

"Yes, James?" I squeezed gently, loving the way his breath caught.

"You're going to be the fucking death of me."

I grinned. "I can imagine worse ways to go."

He captured my mouth again, and there was nothing gentle about it this time. His kiss was possessive, demanding, making promises his body was eager to keep.

Our few remaining scraps of clothing disappeared in a blur of desperate touches and heated whispers. He lifted me onto the table, stepping between my legs. His hands slid up my thighs, spreading them wider as he leaned down to trail kisses across my stomach.

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