frustrating as hell. ‘If you don’t get this off, I swear I’m going to rip it.’
She laughs at me. The husky lilt driving me crazy.
‘So impatient…’
‘I’ve had ten years to wait for this. I call that patience enough.’
Her eyes widen as she stares up at me and she’s momentarily still.
Shit. Too much.
‘Off,’ I command, wanting her back in the moment, to forget what I said.
And she turns away to pull the escaped curls over her shoulder. ‘The zipper is concealed in the back.’
I find the fastening and slowly—too slowly for my tortured cock, but too quickly for my struggling control—I lower it, exposing her exquisite skin, her spine that I want to trace with my fingers, my lips, my tongue. Goosebumps prickle where the fabric parts, calling to me, and I press a kiss to the nape of her neck, breathing her in.
‘You are beautiful, Evangeline.’
She shudders on a breath, turning her head so that I’m on the periphery of her vision, her lashes low, her forbidden lips parted. The zipper stops over the curve of her bare arse and I remember her thong sitting pretty in my pocket. I smile. She went to dinner like this, bare and exposed, thanks to me.
And then all sane thought leaves me as she slips the dress from her shoulders and it pools at her feet. Her perfectly round cheeks are exposed to my hungry gaze and I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t believe.
Her eyes lift to mine above her shoulder. ‘Are you just going to stare?’
‘I’m savouring.’
Engraving this moment in my memory, worshipping it—you, Evangeline.
I reach out to smooth each mound and she curves into my touch, her teeth biting into her lip.
‘Please, Lucas, I want you now. You can savour later.’
Later? How much later? In an hour? Two? A day? A week?
I don’t pose the question; the answer is too depressing.
And if I only get to be inside her once, I’m going to make it the best she’s ever known.
I bow my head into the curve of her neck, my lips gently brushing her skin as I say, ‘Now who’s impatient, hmm…?’
I grasp her hips and pull her back against my clothed erection, relishing the moan she gives in return, the feel of her cheeks cradling my arousal. And when I release her to trail my fingers up her sides she doesn’t move away. She stays curved against me, her palms planted on the cold white countertop as she pushes into me.
I lift my lips to the edge of her ear. ‘What would your parents say to you fucking in their kitchen?’
She whimpers—she likes my dirty talk. I know it and I love her for it.
Enough with the love!
I focus on my hands. I want to touch her everywhere, claim her everywhere, coax out every sound of ecstasy she’s capable of making. I stroke along her back and unclasp her bra. The nude lace obediently falls open, the straps landing loose down her arms before I encourage them off. Her breasts fall free. I can’t see them, but knowing they are there, waiting, has me aching, painful, desperate.
I trace the curve of her waist around to her belly, higher… I stroke beneath the curve of her breasts, feel their weight shift as she writhes.
‘God, Lucas, please.’
I grit my teeth against her heated plea, feel my control fraying as I rotate my palms and surround each breast. I shudder on my own breath even as I feel her do the same, feel her hardened beads pressing into my palms. I roll her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, making them harder, prouder, feeling the tautness in the ripples that surround them.
Just perfect.
Perfect and mine.
For now.
I pinch them tighter and she inhales sharply between her teeth.
‘God, yes.’
‘You like that?’
My voice is strained, my balls heavy. I’m so close, and I know she is too.
‘Yes…’
It’s practically a hiss as she leans back, her body arched. Her bra hits the floor as she flicks it away so she can raise her hands to my neck, and I do it again and again, making her writhe. Her naked body against my clothed one. It’s one hell of a contrast and it’s pushing me over.
I’m tempted to make her come like this. It’s clear she would. But I need to feel her—feel her wetness, the evidence of her need.
I trail one hand down her belly and she sucks her tummy in.
‘I can’t get your pussy out of my head,’ I tell her, kissing her shoulder. ‘The way you taste…’ I nip her skin. ‘The way you move…’ She claws my neck as I cup her and her legs shift apart, granting me all the access I need. ‘The way you’re wet just for me…’
I move, sliding my middle finger in deep, and pull back until her clit is beneath my fingertip. Slowly I rotate it over her and she whimpers, the noise sending my balls heavenward. The smooth undulation of her hips is pushing my release and I grit my teeth.
Not yet.
I’m losing it.
It’s the only way to explain how we’ve got to this point. In my parents’ perfect, clinical abode. All orderly and cold. Me naked. Him clothed. Me on the brink. Him…
Oh, yes…
I can feel he’s close. Every taut muscle is pressing into my back, and his stance as he rocks with rigid precision against me is so fucking hot. I ride my arse against him, staving off my own release.
I want him to come. I want him to come inside his clothing. I want to feel that power—to know that a man like Lucas Waring can lose it, still caged inside his underwear, over me. It’s that which keeps me just this side of sane.
I drop one hand to move it with his and feel his body jerk.
‘Christ, Evangeline.’ His breath rasps. ‘What are you doing to me?’
I smile through the salacious heat whipping around us, pushing his fingers lower, encouraging him to sink inside me as I move with him.
He breathes into my neck, his stubble grazing my skin as he buries his face there. His other hand drops to my thigh and grabs it, lifting it, granting himself greater
