Page 69 of Wallflower in Bloom

“I have a confession,” he murmured, kissing her neck with a whisper-soft touch. Her cloud of lavender and jasmine was bewitching him.

“Mmm?” Her eyes were closed, enjoying the massage. She leaned into him, arching her back, and he’d remember this view until the day he died. Heaven-sent full breasts spilling out over lacy cups, beckoning to him.

“I’ve fantasized about you, about this, since I saw you last.” He placed a kiss along her shoulder blades and felt her still.

Those big emerald eyes locked with his in surprise. “Me?”

He nudged one bra strap down onto the roundness of her arm. “All of you.”

Nuzzling her neck, he slid the other strap down. She relaxed under his hands, sighing into him, and he felt goosebumps cover her skin under his touch.

“But we’re”—she whimpered as he kissed a spot on her neck—“just fake dating.”

“So we keep this no strings. I’m an expert at no strings.” His tongue darted out for a taste of her, soothing a spot he’d nipped with his teeth as he made his way along her shoulder. “We still sleep in separate rooms, still fake date, but work through the list.”

That fucking list. He had to know what was on it.

She bit her lip, thinking as he turned her to face him.

He leaned an arm over her, boxing her into the arm of the couch. He ran his lips over her earlobe and heard her suck in a breath. She tasted like lavender and need. One of her hands grabbed the edge of his t-shirt, tugging him closer.

“Have you ever prioritized your pleasure, Violet? Just had fun with someone you trust?” He kissed his way down her neck, and she sighed against him, her head leaning on his.

His mouth moved to the tops of her breasts, pressing hot, slow kisses to them. This was it; he’d hit the lottery.

His hands framed her waist as he fanned kisses across her breasts.

Hands tangled in his hair as she held him close. His hand found her nipple over her bra and tweaked it.

She cried out in pleasure. “I don’t usually enjoy being”—another swipe on her nipple with his thumb had her gasping—“with someone else. Too intimidating.”

“But you like this?”

“Yes,” she sighed, nails digging into his hair, urging him on. “Easier with no strings.”

He licked the deep crevice between her breasts and thought he might come in his pants right here.

He pulled away and leaned over her. “So we’ll have no-strings fun until I go back home. On one condition.”

Her eyes were wide and dark with wanting, and her hands fisted in his shirt. He kissed the side of her mouth, leaving a small lick with his tongue, desperate to taste her.

She breathed heavily under him. “Which is?”

He went back to the heaven that was her neck. “You must tell me your top three fantasies on your want-to-try list,” he sucked on her earlobe and murmured, “so we can do them.”

She shuddered underneath him. Yes. He wanted to watch her come so badly.

His hand moved to the button of her jeans, and he leaned back, wanting to see her as he unbuttoned them. “Let’s see how bad you are, Violet.”

Her eyes locked with his as he slowly slid down her zipper, the metallic sound like a pump to his cock.

Her lace panties matched her bra, and he ran a finger along the top of them. Her soft stomach made him feral. She was like a Grecian goddess, all soft ample curves. He wanted to see all of her move underneath him. On top of him. Anywhere.

He dipped his fingers under the fabric, and she bit her lip, watching his hand slide into her panties.

“Fuck,” he ground out, leaning his head on her breasts as need buckled him. “These are soaked through.” His hand cupped her tight as his mouth hovered over hers. “You’re a very bad girl, Violet. So fuckable.”

Her mouth finally found his, breaking the dam of need between them. His tongue met hers as they devoured each other, and his finger circled her throbbing, soaked clit. He felt like his soul was being lifted from his body at the sweet sensation of her under his fingers.

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