Page 114 of The Wrong Husband
"I want to say yes," she whispers.
"Say yes," I coax her.
Her eyelids flutter, a sheen of awareness of exactly what that means gleaming at the bottom of those almost completely green mirrors to her soul.
Then she lowers her chin. "Yes," she says on a breath.
"I didn’t hear you, Fever."
She tips up her chin. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
A flash of defiance turns the green into sparkling silver. "Yes, I won’t hold back. Are you satisfied now?"
Not likely. Not until you say it without hesitation. Not until you show me with your body. Not until you mean it with your mind.
Outwardly, I nod. Then I lift her in my arms.
"Hey." She clutches at my shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"Carrying you to the yacht."
"I can walk.”
"Not bloody likely in those heels.”
“They’re kitten heels. And low ones, at that,” she protests.
“The ground is uneven. And by the way, I do love you in them and I want you to have them on when I fuck you.”
"Oh."
I glance down to find her features flushed and her looking at me with stunned amazement and eyelids weighed down with lust.
"If you keep staring like that, I’ll have to pull down your panties and take you right here, and I don’t want to be picked up for indecent exposure."
She clears her throat, then presses her palm to my chest. "Your heart’s racing. I don’t think you’re up for such strenuous exercise."
I spot the humor in her voice and make a growling sound.
"Definitely growling. And grumpier than when I first met you. All that—holding yourself back—is telling on you," she says in that sweet voice which seems designed to edge my desire.
I increase the pace of my steps. Not far now to the yacht. I can see it anchored off the jetty.
"You underestimate my self-control," I say in a steely tone.
I need to simply get to the yacht, dismiss the captain so we can have privacy, and then get it out into the harbor and to my favorite cove, not twenty minutes away, where I can drop anchor and?—
“It starts slowly. Subtly." Her voice dips in tenor. "A flicker of blood flow, a shift in pressure. The parasympathetic nervous system kicks in—heart rate elevates, pupils dilate, blood rushes to the pelvic floor, muscles tense in anticipation."
My steps falter. My groin tightens. I squeeze her closer to my chest, and a gust of air leaves her lips.
"Everything heightens—sensation, sensitivity, breath." She swallows. "It’s not just physical, though. The brain is in on it, too. Dopamine floods the system, ramping up desire. Oxytocin stirs, priming you for connection."
"I take it you’re describing the sensations you’re going to feel when I lick your pussy?"
She shudders. To my intense satisfaction, she squeezes her thighs together, and I swear, the caramel-laced scent of her arousal fills the air.
