Wound Up. Kelli Ireland
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She involuntarily arched.
Strong hands tightened around her waist, holding her still. The tip of his tongue traced the tiniest line up her skin.
A whimper caught in her throat. Heat flooded her sex.
He moved behind her, scaling her body like a half-naked superhero.
She absently wondered what his superpower would be and realized, without a doubt, it would be the power of seduction. The power to make her crave him. The power to make her beg if he wanted her to.
Smooth hands slid under her shirt and up her belly. Thumbs traced ghost-like over the lower swells of her breasts. Her nipples pearled.
Lost to the sensations, her eyes fluttered shut.
Then he was gone.
Her head snapped around, searching for him.
He’d moved into the shadows near the edge of the stage to retrieve a chair. Pushing it toward her, he moved with lithe grace. His skin gleamed, pulled taut over those defined muscles, and his eyes burned as his lips curled with that superpower, seduction. And the closer he came, the hotter she got.
Three things hit Grace all at once.
One, she genuinely wanted this man in every sense of the word want.
Two, she was going to have him.
Three, she was going to enjoy every minute and consider the consequences later.
JUSTIN HADN’T TAKEN his rip-away tuxedo pants off yet. He should have. The routine called for it. But he couldn’t. Not until he got his cock under control. The minute he laid his lips to the small of Grace’s back, that traitor had stopped listening to his demand to stand down. Primal hunger had roared through him at the slight taste of salt on her skin. Then the faint musk of her arousal had punched his lust up to uncontrollable levels. Never had he responded to a woman this way. Something about her made him lose control, and, as usual, that both fascinated and irritated him. He was famed for his control.
Seating her in the chair, he went to his knees in front of her, legs spread wide. He leaned back on one hand and pumped his hips toward her. Sure, his arousal was apparent—she might as well know up front. Keeping things the way they’d always been was no longer an option. Now that she’d seen him here, had discovered that he danced, the knowledge couldn’t be taken back. He was going to run with it as far and fast as he could go before she called stop. For the first time since he’d started dancing, he wanted the patron, this patron, to see him as available.
Her eyes locked on his groin. Then they dragged their way up his body to meet his.
The sheer hunger that smoldered in their depths stole his breath.
“Touch me.” The words were out of his mouth without a thought.
“Beg.”
His balls tightened at the command. So she was listening to the song, was she?
He grinned, putting every ounce of predatory sensuality into it he could muster as he rose to his knees and got in her face. “You’ll regret that.”
“Make me.”
“Done.” Raw, sexual hunger surfed the arousal flooding his veins. Wave after wave of desire pulsed through him. Crawling around her, he prowled up her body slowly, bent to her ear and breathed, “Please.”
A hard shiver worked through her.
Justin pulled her into his arms and switched places with her, settling her across his lap. Hips thrusting, he pantomimed raw sex as his hands ran down her hips. The heat of her sex bled through his thin pants and he wanted nothing more than to touch her there, to find out if she was as wet as he wanted her to be. His hands shook. “Please,” he said, louder this time.
Smooth hands ran over his chest.
He lifted his chin and watched her. The way her eyes locked on his torso, the way her fingertips traced every contour of his body—it fueled his need for her. Wrapping his arms around her ass, he surged to his feet.
Her eyes widened, locking on his.
Moving his face toward hers was natural. He leaned in until their lips almost touched. “Please.” The whispered plea made their lips touch for a split second, but it was enough. She tasted like fresh lime, tart and sweet. Such a heady mix.
She gasped as he spun and set her in the chair again. Moving away, he toed his shoes off one at a time, kicking them clear and, with his back to the crowd, ripped his pants off.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip even as her nostrils flared. The message was clear. She wanted him.
So he danced for her.
Facing Grace, he went to his knees and ran his hands over his body. He rolled a finger out and curled it in a “come here” motion.
She stood and walked toward him with exaggerated steps, her movements in perfect sync with the music. The way she moved, all sultry confidence, made his blood boil. When she reached him, he settled on his heels and pulled her forward to straddle him. He thrust upward, sliding his free hand up her front. Then he slid through her legs, jumped up and moved in behind her. Gripping her hips, he bent her forward some and folded his body over hers, settling his erection in the crevice of her ass.
She shivered.
Or it might have been him.
The music ended and the lights went out.
He grabbed her hand and headed for the wings. She kept up, never balking, and he was relieved. Hunger burned low in his gut. He wanted her so badly he was terrified he might actually throw her over his shoulder and run away with her. To where, he had no idea. Probably the first hotel he came across.
The Spartan decor of the back of the stage was at total odds with the plush interior out front. They nearly ran down a long corridor, his hand clinging to hers. Several performers called out greetings as they passed.
He ignored them.
Without warning, he slid to a stop and pulled her into a corner.
Grace crashed into him.
Justin spun, grabbed her and pressed her up against the wall. “I need you.”
Wide, green eyes stared up at him, her pupils blown with desire. “Feeling’s mutual.”
Twining their fingers together, he dragged her hands over her head. She arched into him, and he groaned. His lips met hers in a desperate duel for dominance. Her mouth offered endless pleasure while her body smelled like sin. She rubbed against him, hooking one leg around his as he wedged a thigh between hers. Her soft