Page 40 of Malicious Marriage
“You didn’t tell me how you felt about that kiss.”
Clover breathes in so deeply that the hollow of her collarbone deepens briefly and she visibly swallows. “You said it was just business.”
“Business can be messy.” I walk closer, and Clover moves back with each step until she’s pressed right up against the counter.
“You told me you didn’t know what came over you,” she says, and her voice trembles slightly. “A spur of the moment thing, right?”
“Right.” I’m a foot away and every sense is tuned into her. Her floral perfume fills my lungs, my hands ache to feel the silky softness of her skin, my lips throb in time with my heartbeat, eager to taste those plush, red lips once more. “Spur of the moment.”
“So,” Clover says as I step closer once more and her voice grows faintly strained. “Not much to talk about.”
“It was a short kiss.”
“Barely even a kiss,” Clover adds.
“Not worth thinking about.”
“Or… or talking about.”
“Exactly.” I’m so close now that I can glimpse the alluring crevice of her breasts and hear the rush of air as she breathes out through parted lips. “No one would call that a worthwhile kiss.”
Clover nods quickly, and a few short strands of her hair brush forward across her bare shoulder. “Exactly,” she whispers, her gaze locked onto mine.
I can’t resist. There are no obvious signs that she dislikes my being in her space. She hasn’t moved aside, pushed me away, or even told me to back off. She’s just standing there with her plump lips slightly parted and her intoxicating scent flooding all my senses.
I am a weak man.
Surging forward, I clasp both my hands to either side of Clover’s neck and feel her pulse racing beneath my palms. My thumbs nudge gently against her soft earlobes and then, despite the hunger roaring through my veins, I kiss her gently.
The first press of her lips against mine silences all rampant, worrisome thoughts about whether I’m doing the right thing or not. She tastes just as good as she looks, just as good as she smells. A rush of excitement sends pins and needles racing down my arms and legs while tension twitches at the small of my backas I wrestle with the urge to kiss her until she’s arched back over the counter.
I maintain a specific gentle pressure of my lips against hers and adjust only briefly. She places one hand on my bicep, and it radiates there like a beacon of heat. This kiss could go on forever, but I begin to pull back because I need to know I’m not the only one feeling like this.
My answer comes with Clover’s other hand grabbing me by my tie as I break the kiss and dragging me right back into another.
18
CLOVER
The kiss back in the bathroom was hard and brief. This one is so much hotter.
He cradles my face like I’m something so incredibly precious, but there’s a firmness there that makes me feel just as safe in his hold. His lips are soft, and even the subtle scratch of his beard against my chin is pleasant, and a roll of shivers cascades down my back.
When he pulls away, instinct takes over and I drag him back in.
I don’t care if this is a bad idea. I don’t care if this blurs lines and I’ll end up regretting it. I don’t care about anything right now other than the press of his lips against mine and the hot line of his body aligning with mine.
Dean surges into the second kiss and presses his whole body against me. One of his hands drops from my neck to slide around my waist, with his hand resting between me and the edge of the countertop. His tongue glides against my lower lip, so I part my lips and suddenly, he’s licking his way inside with gentle, firm strokes. I squeak softly, and his grip around my body tightens a fraction.
I’m overheating. The warmth that radiates from his chest is almost overwhelming, but I don’t want him to step away. Not this time. Fuck everything else. I want to be held. I want to be touched. I’m so starved of any kind of affection that I’ll take this kiss and treasure it for the rest of my life.
But it’s not just a kiss.
The warm slide of Dean’s tongue dancing against my own grows more insistent. He presses his body firmer against mine, adjusts his hand from the side of my neck to cradle the back of my head, and as he subtly shifts, his thigh moves between both of my legs.
I slide my hand into his thick, dark hair and wind the strands around my fingers. As I pull, Dean’s hips shift against mine and a sudden rising firmness against my hip draws all my attention south.
Is he hard? Just from kissing me? How is that even possible?
