Page 13 of Savannah Royals
Withhim.
He inches up my dress and teases his fingers across my thigh before placing them right where I want them.
“Oh.” I press against him.
He stays there for a few minutes, then pulls hard, ripping through my step-in chemise. My hands move feverishly to unclip his suspenders. I’ve never been a very patient person, and neither is Paul. Not where this is concerned. We are two bodies with one mind. Moving through the steps of a choreographed dance, a quickstep every time.
He lifts me onto his hips and presses my back into the nearest tree. Low-hanging Spanish moss surrounds us on four sides. I dip my fingers under his shirt, over his tattoo, tracing the swiping paw of the wolf tracking forward over his shoulder onto his right pectoral. Paul shivers.
Remotely, I hear the telltale tear of a paper condom wrapper.
“Kat.” He sinks into me.
I return my fingers to the ink of the massive wolf coating his back, holding on.
There is so muchhunger between us.
I tug his bottom lip with my teeth. He growls, increasing the pace. I press my lips to the paw on his shoulder. My panting breath heats the tattooed marks on his chest. We move together, murmured cries floating into the canopy of greenery overhead…
“Onlytwentyminutesgone,Kitty-Kat. Forty still to go.”
Laughing, I give Paul a playful shove. He flops to the grass beneath the starry sky and reaches for me. I rest my chin on his chest, looking at his face as he closes his eyes.
“Wake me in forty minutes,” he mumbles.
“How romantic.” I sniff but snuggle into him.
His fingers brush through my long black hair.
“Did you have a good day, doll?” he murmurs, his chest rumbling beneath my ear.
“It was okay. There was an open house this morning.”
“I know.”
Of course you do.“I met someone interesting.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t you already know?”
“No.” He laughs. “Who?”
“His name is Matthew. Matthew DaMolin.”
“MatthewDaMolin?” Paul shifts beneath me.
“Yeah.” My gaze flicks to his face. “You know him?”
“I knowofhim,” Paul clarifies, settling back down. “And his family. Publishing titans, generational wealth. He’s the younger son, works at the hospital, lives alone downtown…physician.”
“Uh-huh.” Paul’s endless stream of knowledge never ceases to amaze me. I decide to bait him. “He’s handsome.”
“Is he now?” Paul angles my head in the crook of his arm so he can see me better. “Do I need to worry?”
There’s no concern in his gaze. His dark irises laugh at me, knowing.
“Smug bastard.” I roll my eyes.
