Wrapped In Pleasure - Brenda Jackson [82]
With his chin resting on the crown of her head, he closed his eyes as their bodies began swaying in time to the music. The slow beat of the song was vastly different from the fast-paced one of earlier. But this rhythm was what he needed right now. He needed to know how well they fit together, how so much blatant, raw sensuality floated from within her while at the same time she was shrouded with such an angelical air.
He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face at the thought of her having even one strand of an angelic hair on her head, especially after that hip-shaking, body-rolling dance she’d done. And her determination to have fun at any cost, even at the risk of angering her family and a fiancé, would also put her angelic status at risk.
Rasheed opened his eyes at the same moment that he drew in a ragged breath. Her cheek was resting against his chest and it felt warm, at home, and so right. Knowing if they remained in this same spot too much longer there would be no way he could control his desire for her, he increased their movements when the tempo of the music picked up somewhat. He pulled away from her slightly to waltz her around the dance floor when the rhythm smoothly advanced.
She laughed at the unexpected move and he savored the sound of her laughter in a way that obliterated all thoughts from his mind except one. And when the music made another transition, one that returned to the ultraslow beat of before, he tightened his hold on her hand and pulled her back to him, back into his arms, close to his body.
She gasped when she detected his aroused state but there was no way he would apologize for it. No, he was fighting everything within him to stay in control of the situation where she not only looked but also felt utterly compelling.
His gaze drifted downward to her mouth and those lips that he longed to taste. They had the ability to make him lose his breath just from looking at them and were sending a rush of heated desire through every part of his body. And when the music finally drifted to an end, a surge of sensuous sensations shattered within him and it was too late to even consider stopping what he was about to do.
He lowered his mouth to hers, fully convinced that, as her fiancé, he had every right to do so. And when his lips touched hers, when he felt how they quivered beneath his, when he was introduced to her taste and sensed her innocence, he no longer saw it as a right but as a privilege.
Rasheed wanted to believe that his longer-than-usual drought without sex was the reason he was latching onto her mouth like a man starving to taste the sweetness of her lips, to mate hungrily with her tongue, brand it, introduce his to hers. But he knew the moment he inserted his tongue into her mouth, immediately caught hold of hers and began sucking gently, that he would claim whatever excuse was out there. And when he heard a moan from deep in her throat, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her closer to absorb her warmth, accept her sensuality and make known—as much as he could and only to himself—that she was his. Totally. Irrevocably. Absolutely.
And his tongue, the one that was licking and tasting every corner of her mouth in heated bliss and slow, deliberate exploration, was boldly staking a claim at the same time as it was giving her an introduction. It was hers, the only male tongue that would ever go inside her mouth, and he wanted her to get used to it. Its daringness, its heat and its texture. His tongue could be rather tender at times, raunchy and brash at others. And on its really naughty days his tongue, she would discover, could steal the very breath from her body and make her whimper with a need that only he would be able to satisfy. And more often than not, his tongue had a mind of its own. A mind to please with an intent to deliver.
Knowing he could stand there and kiss her all night, ply her lips until her mouth was tender,