Page 83 of Dex

“Just the way you like,” I murmur seductively, because my fevered body is alive and wants more.More of him holding me, and touching me, and calling me Gatinha.“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s the truth.”

I giggle, and he instinctively kisses the back of my hand again.

“I have claws, Dexter.Be careful,” I warn him, trying to maintain some distance because we seem to be hurtling towards one another at breakneck speed.If this continues, I’ll want more than just a sizzling kiss tonight.

“I am being careful, meu amor.I know exactly what this is.”He whispers the words close to my ear, so that no one will be able to lip read them.But his breath, and his nearness make me shiver.“Are you cold, or just naturally excited by my touch?”he asks, amused.

“Cold,” I lie.

“In this heat?”He glances at our guests, then turns to me again.“They want something more, Gatinha.We should give it to them.”

“Give them what, exactly?”I stare around in confusion, but he’s right.Our guests are looking at us.

“Lean in to me,” he orders, sending a charge of excitement through me.

What is this?Some sort of slow torture?

Naturally, I do as he says, and am about to ask another question when he cups the back of my neck and his fingers slide to my neck.My breath hitches at the touch of his palm.It both electrifies and grounds me.The air in my lungs empties.I feel like I’m on a ride at the carnival.Paused atop a tall rollercoaster.About to hurtle down at breakneck speed.Dexter leans in slowly, then pauses, his glittering dark eyes locked on mine, giving me a chance to pull away.

I don’t.

Ican’t.

Then he kisses me.

It starts gentle at first.A mere press of his lips on mine.I prepare myself for the emotionally empty kiss earlier.But then his mouth claims mine, hot and firm, and his tongue meets me, dueling ferociously, like he can’t taste me fast enough.

I can’t get enough.He ravages me with a fire that surprises me.This time Dexter isn’t gentle or cautious.He’s like a man who’s been fighting the urge for too long.A man who is finally letting go.

My traitorous hand rises to his chest, fisting his shirt.Even if I wanted to resist, slow down, hold back my emotions, it’s impossible.I am irrevocably consumed by his lips, his tongue, his raw heat.His passion.

All that bottled up emotion pours out as we kiss hungrily.He angles his mouth, deepening the kiss while his other hand slides to my waist and he pulls me to him as if he can’t bear to have me apart.

The world around me blends into darkness, but I hear gasps.Cheers.The clink of glasses.It feels like everyone’s watching but I don’t care.

Nor does Dexter.

Suddenly, this doesn’t feel like a performance anymore.This is more than life imitating art.

I feel lost when Dexter moves away, breaking for air.His lips part slightly, and I feel his breath, hot and ragged, against my mouth.I only get a few seconds to recover, to breathe, before his tongue meets mine again in a slow, lazy stroke.My insides feel light and trippy.Liquid heat coils deep in my belly.My hands grip his shoulders, as I steady myself, anchoring to him, because my world is spinning out of control.

This kiss is a tell.

A confession.

It’s everything we don’t say but feel.The lust, the tension, the fear of wanting it all pours out of us in every moment our mouths remain melded together.

Dexter finally pulls back, a crack of light between us, his forehead pressing against mine.I feel his chest heaving, feel my lips hot, bruised, seared.

“Where are your claws now, Gatinha?”

“Still there,” I whisper, barely able to speak.

His eyes darken, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.“They feel like heaven.”

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