definitely what I would consider flirting. And the way he’s looking at me . . .
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. Again I sound like those romance novels. The ones I used to find on my grandma’s bedside table when I was young. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could that actually occur in real life.
But I’m feeling it. Right now. Again. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s feeling it too.
“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound is our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon.
I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before but not like this. Never like this. The first time was an accident and had turned into an opportunity—a rushed opportunity that had ultimately ended in utter disappointment.
I don’t want to risk that again. I don’t know if I could survive it again.
But I want it. I want him.
“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.
“Thank you,” I say because I don’t know what else to do. I crack my eyes open to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.
“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .
My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.
God, I want that. I do. I want to feel his hands roam all over me. I want his mouth on mine, I want his mouth everywhere. I’m tired of resisting him, especially when he so clearly wants me as much as I want him.
For once, I’m going to be bold. I want to see what he does when I invite him to do exactly what he wants to me.
“What’s stopping you? We’ve already kissed before.” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.
But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, especially the last few days, and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Again.
Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.
Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.
“ I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.
He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he
Oh. My.
My cheeks warm when he stops directly in front of me. I can feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating scent, and I press my lips together to keep from saying something really stupid.
God, I want you. So bad my entire body aches for your touch.
Yeah. Again I sound like those romance novels. The ones I used to find on my grandma’s bedside table when I was young. I always thought those emotions were so exaggerated. No way could that actually occur in real life.
But I’m feeling it. Right now. Again. With Matthew DeLuca. And the way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s feeling it too.
“So um, h-how have I been driving you crazy?” I swallow hard. I sound like a stuttering idiot, and I’m trying to calm my racing heart but it’s no use. We’re staring at each other in silence, the only sound is our accelerated breathing, and then he reaches out. Rests his fingers against my cheek. Lets them drift along my face.
Slowly I close my eyes and part my lips, sharp pleasure piercing through me at his intimate touch. I curl my fingers against the wall as if I can grab onto it, afraid I might slide to the ground if I don’t get a grip and soon.
I can smell him. Feel him. We’ve been close to each other before but not like this. Never like this. The first time was an accident and had turned into an opportunity—a rushed opportunity that had ultimately ended in utter disappointment.
I don’t want to risk that again. I don’t know if I could survive it again.
But I want it. I want him.
“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he whispers, his rough voice sending a scatter of goose bumps across my skin.
“Thank you,” I say because I don’t know what else to do. I crack my eyes open to find he’s moved even closer, one hand braced against the wall, the other still touching my face. Tilting my head back, I meet his gaze, my lids flickering when he strokes his thumb across my lower lip.
“It’s taking everything inside of me not to just give in and kiss you,” he admits gruffly, his hot eyes roaming over my face, then dropping lower, settling on my chest. I can feel my nipples tighten beneath the silk fabric of my dress and I’m suddenly achingly aware of what little clothing I’m wearing. No bra, no panties . . .
My dress is the only barrier between Matt’s hands and my skin.
God, I want that. I do. I want to feel his hands roam all over me. I want his mouth on mine, I want his mouth everywhere. I’m tired of resisting him, especially when he so clearly wants me as much as I want him.
For once, I’m going to be bold. I want to see what he does when I invite him to do exactly what he wants to me.
“What’s stopping you? We’ve already kissed before.” I reach out, slip my fingers down the length of his black tie. I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe I’m touching him though really I’m only caressing his tie. Big deal.
But I can feel all that hot, hard strength beneath his shirt, the beat of his heart, the scent of his skin. Relief floods me. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, especially the last few days, and it feels like we’re finally giving in. Again.
Well, I’ve been dancing around it. He always seemed mostly oblivious to me.
Maybe he isn’t. If his current behavior is any indication, he definitely isn’t.
“ I’m stopping me. Or at least I should be,” he says, resting both of his hands on my waist as he steps so close, our legs tangle, our chests brush. I hold my breath, waiting for what I know will be a totally disappointing conclusion to our conversation.
He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he lowers his head, his mouth settling on mine, softly. Sweetly. His kiss obliterates everything, all of my thoughts and worries and concerns, until I’m consumed by the sound and the feel and the smell of him. He surrounds me, overwhelms me, and when he
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