Turn It Up by Vivian Arend

games she’d read about. Didn’t feed her, or twirl chocolate over her skin and lick it off. He might as well have, considering how excited she grew. Under his intent stare, she became much more aware of the sensual attraction between them. Every time she put the fork in her mouth, he responded—a moan or a small body movement—as if he was jealous of the tines as she licked them clean. Every time she swallowed, he swallowed in time with her. Something warned her the intimate connection growing between them was building to explosive levels.
    Max enjoyed his own dessert, twirling the fork to gather the perfect amount of dip. The drive to have him drop the fork and twirl his fingers on her body instead increased. When he reached out and wiped a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, she captured his finger. Her tongue wrapped around the digit, sweeping it clean, teasing it in small circles. Then she suckled lightly, thrilling when his pupils dilated. His brown eyes changed almost fully to black.
    He pulled his hand away with a slight pop and a shudder shook him. When he spoke, the lust in his voice ratcheted up her desire another notch.
    “I want you. No interruptions, no regrets.”
    She couldn’t answer for a second, his need enveloping her like a cloud. It was past time for this. Reality reared its head for a moment. “I’m not trying to be funny, but…on the table?”
    Max held out his hand to lead her to another part of the house. “I’m smarter than that…”
    There was too much sexual tension between them to laugh when she saw he’d brought a mattress into the house. It lay on the floor of what would be the master bedroom. He’d piled it with soft quilts and pillows, and arranged a wild array of tea-light candles on boxes all along the perimeter of the room. He must have lit them before serving dessert. Tasha released her fingers from his and turned, intending to thank him for the thoughtfulness, but the patient man she’d had by her side all through the meal had vanished.
    He kissed her madly, clutching her close. Biting her lips, nibbling on her neck and below her ear. She clung to him, fighting for balance. After kissing her breathless, he stripped off her top and bra, then stepped back.
    Standing there, half-naked before him, the flickering candlelight dancing on her skin as his gaze raced over her made her suddenly uncertain. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She was no shy girl to cover herself, but the longer he stood there, staring, the more self-conscious she became.
    Why the hell had she thought her thirty-four-year-old body would be enough to make this work?
    “Max, is everything okay?”
    He shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re here and this is happening.” He laughed. “I can’t believe someone isn’t going to phone, or walk in, or do something to stop us.”
    Her insecurities vanished. He was as involved as she was, and just as nervous, it seemed. She lifted her chin and paced toward him, closing the distance. The floor was cold under her bare feet, the unfinished boards of the plywood rough and itchy as she reached for him.
    “It’s real. And no one will interrupt us.”
    She undid the top buttons of his shirt and leaned in to kiss his chest. He hauled her against him instead of letting her finish undressing him, the fabric of his jeans and shirt a high-texture contrast with her bare skin. Somehow between the kissing and the touching, he not only stripped off his clothes, he had them on the mattress with his naked body pressed over hers intimately.
    Oh yes, this was worth waiting for, all her frustrations washed away by the pleasure of the contact. Tasha opened her legs wider, letting his hips fall between her thighs. Their tongues tangled, brushing rough sweeps against each other. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to have him use that talented tongue on her body, or get straight to the good stuff.
    He took control again, cupping both her breasts in his