Page 105 of Hot Knot Summer
“I’ve never worn anything like this,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious under his heated stare. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“It suits you so perfectly,” he murmurs, reachingout to trace the line of my collarbone with one finger. “We may need to get you an entire wardrobe of dresses if this is how you look in them.”
“I don’t need a whole wardrobe.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wicked grin that tells me this argument is far from over.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. This easy feeling of being cherished and desired is everything I never knew I was missing.
“I still can’t believe how things are turning out,” I confess, my voice softer now. “More than a week ago, I was heartbroken and alone. Now...”
“Now you’re ours,” he finishes, his hands coming up to frame my face. “And we’re yours. However you want us.”
Before I can respond, he steps closer, his arm sliding around the back of my neck to pull me toward him. His lips meet mine in a kiss in slow, deliberate motion. His tongue slides inside to tangle with mine in a dance that makes my knees weak.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and clinging to his shoulders for support.
“We should go,” I manage, though the words come out husky and unconvincing. “The reservation...”
“In a minute,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something darker. “First, let me help you with your shoes.”
He retrieves the heels from the dresser and kneels before me in one fluid motion, his hands gentleas he guides my foot onto his bent knee. “Hold on to me,” he instructs, offering his head and shoulders for balance.
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt as he carefully slips the first shoe onto my foot, his fingers surprisingly deft with the delicate strap. The simple act of him kneeling before me, attending to such an intimate task, sends a flutter of arousal through me.
“Other foot,” he murmurs, switching my feet on his knee. As he secures the second shoe, his hands linger on my ankle and my calf, his touch sending sparks up my leg.
Once both shoes are on, I move to step back, but he doesn’t rise. Instead, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I notice the familiar twinkle of danger and trouble in his bright blue eyes—the look that usually means I’m about to be thoroughly ravished.
“River, we don’t have time,” I whisper.
His hands slide up my thighs, taking advantage of the dress’s high slit to push the silk aside. Cool air hits my skin, and I realize exactly how exposed I am in this position.
“Lacy thong,” he observes with obvious approval, his fingers tracing the edge of the delicate fabric. “I can see right through it.”
Heat floods my face, but I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at his appreciation. “You like it?”
“You have no idea,” he growls, leaning forward to press tiny kisses along the edge of my underwear, hisbreath hot against my skin. “I can’t get enough of you, of this.”
His fingers hook into the bikini line elastic of my thong, peeling the fabric aside. I should protest, but my body betrays me by leaning into his touch. “We have to go. The others are waiting.”
“I can’t,” he says, his voice rough with need. “I just need?—”
His words are cut off as his tongue finds me, drawing a gasp from my lips that echoes in the quiet room. My legs immediately turn to jelly, threatening to give out as he begins to work me with single-minded determination.
I breathe, my hands flying to his hair as he pushes deeper between my thighs, his tongue dragging long, hungry strokes through my slick folds. He finds my clit, circling it once, then again, firmer, wetter, until I can’t think, can’t breathe. My back arches as heat coils low and tight in my belly.
“We’re not going to make it to dinner.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but his low, amused chuckle hums against my pussy, and the vibration sends a jolt straight through me. My thighs try to snap shut, but he’s already there, already locked in, holding me open with a grip that says you’re not going anywhere.
His hands slide under my thighs, pulling them slightly wider, locking me in place as he devours me like I’m his favorite ice cream, licking, sucking, tongue fucking me. I moan, broken and high, fingerstugging his hair as my body trembles beneath him. He groans against me like he can’t get enough, like tasting me is driving him mad, and I swear I can feel the heat of his need bleeding into my skin.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes from how overwhelming it is, pleasure flooding me, wave after wave, each one threatening to break me open.
He’s not just eating me out. He’s claiming me.
This is feral, hungry, desperate, River consuming me with a savagery that steals my sanity.
