Heart & Seoul by Victoria Smith Page A

the kitchen counter moaning. “You
wouldn’t be trying to stall for some reason would you, Truman
Drake?”
    He leaned his long frame back, looking
seemingly insulted. “Now, why would you say that? Can’t a man just
show his woman a little affection whenever he feels like it? Can’t
he…”
    I was thrown for an erotic loop when he
dipped his head, kissing the swell of my breasts.
    My breath escaped in small wisps.
    “…kiss her whenever he wants,” he continued,
placing small love bites along my chest. “Touch her how he feels
she deserves to be touched.”
    He pushed his hands slowly
yet aggressively up my thighs, and I gripped his arms to keep from
turning into jelly. Good God he is so
good…
    He gave a little chuckle against my breasts.
It was low, gravelly, and incredibly sexy, like only he had a way
of doing. I should be mad he could get me to submit to him so
easily, but at the moment I was only focused on his moving
hands.
    Looping his fingers around the sides of my
panties, he tugged them down my thighs and I gave into him by
lifting my ass from the counter so he could take them off. With
finesse, he removed the material, sliding them into his pocket.
    He brought me closer to him by my naked
bottom. “Can’t he taste her the way she should be tasted,
Lace?”
    He didn’t wait for my response before he
eased my legs apart and squatted down. My sense finally came back
to me, and I lifted my leg, pressing my toes onto his shoulder to
hold him back.
    I eyed him. “I only ask because you’ve been
ignoring me all day to get things finalized for our trip, which you
know I don’t mind and completely understand. But the minute I come
in to tell you we need to leave for your mother’s, you suddenly
have to have me. You wouldn’t even let me get my cookies packed up.
Do you not want to go because you’ll be bored while we discuss
wedding things?”
    That was the reason we planned to meet his
mom today. She received the finished wedding invitations from her
designer friend and wanted to show us before we left. Drake and I
had decided on a small wedding before he started school, but it
quickly turned into an event. Between Mrs. Drake and Adele, I was
quickly overwhelmed. Our “small” backyard wedding at the Drake
house turned into a large one to be held at the Trump Tower
downtown. His mother and I would most likely be discussing more
particulars today, and I feared he might not want to go because of
that.
    He stood, frowning. “You know I don’t mind
talking about anything that has to do with you being on my arm for
the rest of my life.”
    I bit my lip. I loved it when he was all
cute and romantic like that. I tugged the lapels of his gray button
down, admiring the flash of golden skin the open lapels
exposed.
    “ Then what is it?” I asked
him.
    Grabbing my waist, he helped me off the
counter. He kissed my nose. “Nothing. So if you’re trying to go,
then we need to leave before we’re late.”
    I still didn’t necessarily believe him. But
he started walking off, so I knew he was serious about going. I
turned to finish packing up my cookies, and my eyes widened at the
sudden draft that breezed my nethers from the simple motion.
Whipping back around, I placed my hands on my hips. “Truman Drake,
I think you have something that belongs to me.”
    He stopped his black Converses mid step.
“What ever are you talking about, my beautiful fiancée?” Turning on
his heel, he batted his dark eyelashes.
    I placed my hand out. “Nope. Not going to
work. Give my panties to me please.”
    He didn’t return to me and popped his bottom
lip out in a pout.
    I shook my head. “Truman Drake. My panties.
Now.”
    Heavy-footed, he made it over to me and,
rather reluctantly, dropped the cream-colored lace into my palm.
“You’re so particular about these. You act like I can’t buy you new
ones.”
    After placing my feet through the holes, I
shimmied them on with the grace of a lady, not allowing him to see
the