does.”
“Everything isn’t about you.”
“True, but this is.” Russell stopped a hairsbreadth away from her.
She was trapped between him and the door, with very little space between, either. Tamara looked less than thrilled about that, but Russell absolutely loved it. He had her where he wanted her. In his grasp. “I’m not going to let you intimidate me.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Then what the hell do you want?”
“You.” Russell moved in for the kill as he covered her mouth with his, silencing her once and for all.
Chapter Eight
Tamara was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Even though she was mad enough to do Russell some serious bodily harm, she couldn’t resist the feel of him against her once more. This entire party up to this moment had been one big mistake in the making, but now that she was back in his arms, she was fine. This was where she was supposed to be, whether she liked it or not.
With a deep groan, Russell broke the kiss and nudged her to the side a few steps, then backward so she was parallel with the wall and not the door. When the flat of her back touched the solid surface, Tamara moved her hands up between them and pushed him back a bit, but not away, then turned her hand until she was holding onto his lapel. “I still don’t like you.”
“Dislike me all you want, just don’t tell me to stop.”
“I’m pissed off, not crazy.”
“Pissed off. I can work with that.”
As could she. Anger with one another didn’t stop their bodies from responding to mutual desire. The lower half of his body was still pressed against her, and she could feel the outline of his cock. And she could feel the moisture gathering between her folds. Had felt it since he’d strong-armed her from the ballroom, in fact. Something he’d soon discover for himself.
He dropped to his knees before her and slowly began to raise the bottom of her dress, all the while keeping his gaze firmly locked on hers. As sexy as he looked peering up at her, it was taking way too long to get to the good part. Reaching down, Tamara grabbed her dress and tugged it from his grasp and up to her waist. They didn’t have time for sweet, soft, romance-type shit. Any second they could be discovered, and if she was getting kicked out of a charity ball, it was going to be for a hell of a lot more than because a boy was looking up her skirt.
Instead of commenting, Russell merely raised a brow before he lowered his gaze to view what her black dress had been covering. Which wasn’t much. The black thigh-high stockings were held up by black garters that matched the lace thong panties she wasn’t wearing.
“Hmm…bare.” He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against her slick nether lips.
“Yes.” Freshly bikini-waxed and trimmed just for this evening, not that she’d admit anything, even at gunpoint.
“For him”—his eyes blazed with sudden anger—“or for me?”
Another question she wouldn’t answer honestly at gunpoint. “For me.”
“Right.” Not that it mattered, because from the sudden smirk he sent her, he didn’t believe her anyway. “You just keep on telling yourself that.”
Before she could come back with a witty comment, he grasped her right leg, moved it over his shoulder, and moved between her parted legs. “What are you doing?”
“If you have to ask, I’ll have to do some serious recon on your sexual education. Now shh…I’m busy.”
Man, was he. Russell parted her folds and ran first his finger, then his tongue over her clit.
“Good Lord.” Closing her eyes, Tamara entangled her hands in his hair and pressed her back into the wall, needing something solid to hold her up.
A novice he wasn’t. Russell knew exactly what to do with a pussy. He lapped himself to gold in her book with his very talented tongue. His mouth teased and tormented her heated flesh. And as if his lips weren’t enough, he soon added his fingers to the drive-Tamara-crazy
“Everything isn’t about you.”
“True, but this is.” Russell stopped a hairsbreadth away from her.
She was trapped between him and the door, with very little space between, either. Tamara looked less than thrilled about that, but Russell absolutely loved it. He had her where he wanted her. In his grasp. “I’m not going to let you intimidate me.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Then what the hell do you want?”
“You.” Russell moved in for the kill as he covered her mouth with his, silencing her once and for all.
Chapter Eight
Tamara was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Even though she was mad enough to do Russell some serious bodily harm, she couldn’t resist the feel of him against her once more. This entire party up to this moment had been one big mistake in the making, but now that she was back in his arms, she was fine. This was where she was supposed to be, whether she liked it or not.
With a deep groan, Russell broke the kiss and nudged her to the side a few steps, then backward so she was parallel with the wall and not the door. When the flat of her back touched the solid surface, Tamara moved her hands up between them and pushed him back a bit, but not away, then turned her hand until she was holding onto his lapel. “I still don’t like you.”
“Dislike me all you want, just don’t tell me to stop.”
“I’m pissed off, not crazy.”
“Pissed off. I can work with that.”
As could she. Anger with one another didn’t stop their bodies from responding to mutual desire. The lower half of his body was still pressed against her, and she could feel the outline of his cock. And she could feel the moisture gathering between her folds. Had felt it since he’d strong-armed her from the ballroom, in fact. Something he’d soon discover for himself.
He dropped to his knees before her and slowly began to raise the bottom of her dress, all the while keeping his gaze firmly locked on hers. As sexy as he looked peering up at her, it was taking way too long to get to the good part. Reaching down, Tamara grabbed her dress and tugged it from his grasp and up to her waist. They didn’t have time for sweet, soft, romance-type shit. Any second they could be discovered, and if she was getting kicked out of a charity ball, it was going to be for a hell of a lot more than because a boy was looking up her skirt.
Instead of commenting, Russell merely raised a brow before he lowered his gaze to view what her black dress had been covering. Which wasn’t much. The black thigh-high stockings were held up by black garters that matched the lace thong panties she wasn’t wearing.
“Hmm…bare.” He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against her slick nether lips.
“Yes.” Freshly bikini-waxed and trimmed just for this evening, not that she’d admit anything, even at gunpoint.
“For him”—his eyes blazed with sudden anger—“or for me?”
Another question she wouldn’t answer honestly at gunpoint. “For me.”
“Right.” Not that it mattered, because from the sudden smirk he sent her, he didn’t believe her anyway. “You just keep on telling yourself that.”
Before she could come back with a witty comment, he grasped her right leg, moved it over his shoulder, and moved between her parted legs. “What are you doing?”
“If you have to ask, I’ll have to do some serious recon on your sexual education. Now shh…I’m busy.”
Man, was he. Russell parted her folds and ran first his finger, then his tongue over her clit.
“Good Lord.” Closing her eyes, Tamara entangled her hands in his hair and pressed her back into the wall, needing something solid to hold her up.
A novice he wasn’t. Russell knew exactly what to do with a pussy. He lapped himself to gold in her book with his very talented tongue. His mouth teased and tormented her heated flesh. And as if his lips weren’t enough, he soon added his fingers to the drive-Tamara-crazy
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