Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [58]
“Ah,” she said. “Well, I suppose that’s a valid worry. But just to be clear, if you started kissing me while a thousand people watched, I still don’t think I could resist.”
He gave his head a speculative tilt. “I can’t get over you. You’re the last girl I would have expected to be so damn much fun.”
“And what exactly made you think I was so prim and proper in the first place?”
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I saw you in the office every week for the last few years and my impression was of a…nice, dependable woman who…probably thought I was someone to beware of.”
Some bold, new-Brenna part of her wanted to convince him he was off the mark, that he’d had her pegged all wrong, but she never had been good at lying—honesty just came so much more naturally. “Well, maybe I was a little more prim when I was with Wayne. But now there’s no reason to be. And as for what I thought of you…”
“Yeah?”
She sort of hated telling him what he already knew but…again, she had a hard time not being truthful. In fact, the more she got to know him, the easier it was to simply speak from the heart. “I…thought you were the hottest thing poured into a pair of ripped jeans I’d ever seen.”
He lowered his chin, looking utterly provocative. “Is that so?”
She hoped her nod came out more sexy than sheepish.
Either way, he slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as he reached out his free hand to lift her legs across his lap. And he leaned near, his whisper echoing as sultry as the night. “You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.”
Being so close to him, but not kissing, got her hotter still. Just looking into his eyes and feeling that sense of possession again—of belonging to him, being at his sexual mercy. “Still want to make out?” she asked.
“Oh yeah,” he replied, then leaned in for a long, slow kiss.
The gondolier’s Italian song permeated the night air, his voice strong and deep, as the private boat glided along the canal’s smooth surface. He stood behind them, guiding the boat, but a large awning shaded the seat from his view—and thank God, since Damon’s kisses grew more passionate. Soon, her breath turned labored as an intense heat climbed her thighs. She wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten so turned on from mere kisses in her whole life.
As usual, when his mouth trailed down onto her neck, she thought she’d implode. Tendrils of pleasure curled through her arms, her breasts—the small of her back ached with hard, sensual need.
When the gondolier’s song ended, Brenna and Damon both paused and looked over their shoulders, in case he were to speak to them—but when he simply began another tune behind them, they resumed kissing.
Until Damon eased his hand between her thighs.
Sensation pulsed through her, creating a maddening need. “Please,” she heard herself whisper in a shaky voice, “more.”
She parted her legs just slightly and felt his fingers ascend, slowly, so slowly, until they met her damp slit.
“Mmm,” she sighed, unable to hold it in—and thankful the gondolier sang so blissfully loud as their ride continued through virtually dark, private waters.
“Still hot and sticky for me,” Damon breathed low in her ear.
She nodded. “Mmm, yes.”
His tongue invaded her mouth once more, kissing deeply, possessively, again taking ownership of her, just like she wanted—until she said, “God, I need you, baby.”
“You’ll have me soon—deep inside your perfect little pussy.”
The body part he mentioned involuntarily convulsed around his fingertips, and they both let out a heavy breath. “Jesus,” he whispered. “You’re so ready, babe.” She’d never heard him sound so intensely aroused.
Or felt that way herself, her whole body burning with a reckless, feral hunger. “I…I almost can’t control myself. I almost want to fuck you right here.”
Unparalleled heat filled his dark eyes. “Just a little longer,” he promised.
“You…you should quit touching me now. Or…or I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He pulled his hand away, and they both let out low groans of frustration even though she’d insisted.