‘Not a promise,’ rasped Sol. ‘Fair warning.’
‘Warning taken,’ she muttered, her lips tingling as his mouth continued to brush her. ‘Now you just need to prove it.’
* * *
It was insanity.
Not the fact that he was in a side room at a party with a beautiful, practically naked woman in his arms—he shamefully had to admit this had happened many times in the past—but rather, the insanity was that he was here with Anouk and she was making him feel more out of control than he’d ever felt with anyone else.
As though he couldn’t have resisted her inexperienced seduction even if he’d wanted to. As if she had that kind of power over him. Which, of course, was sheer nonsense.
But he wasn’t about to put it to the test and try to pull away from her now. Not when his whole body was igniting at the feel of her smooth, silky skin and scraps of lace beneath his palms; the taste of her skin on his lips and tongue; the way she shivered so deliciously when he grazed his teeth down that long line of her neck.
Not to mention that sinful garter belt, which he really hadn’t been expecting from prim Dr Hart. Did he take it off her, or leave it on?
His head couldn’t keep track of all the ways he wanted this woman. He wanted her with an intensity, a fierceness that almost floored him. He thought it might kill him and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. As long as he had her.
Lowering his head, he claimed her mouth again and again, tasting her with his lips and his tongue, whilst she met him stroke for stroke. He captured each one of her soft sighs in his mouth, emitted as though she was as driven by desire as he was.
He let his hands trail over her body, revelling in the way her body quivered beneath his touch, and every time she pressed herself against him. He relished the way she lifted her hands to fumble with his shirt buttons and then slid them inside to trace the ridges of his chest as if she was trying to commit them to memory merely by touch.
He didn’t even remember when he’d lost his jacket or bowtie. When he’d begun to cup that peachy backside to lift her up to sit on the desk, her hard nipples raking over his chest, his hips locked within the tight embrace of her incredible long, slender legs.
He was so hard, so ready he could barely think straight. Barely. But he could think enough to register that if she rocked against him much longer then he was going to be beyond help.
‘Are you on the pill?’ he muttered.
‘Hmm?’ She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes glazed and overflowing with naked desire so that it was almost his undoing.
‘I don’t have any protection on me.’ Every word felt as though it was being torn from Sol’s throat, especially when he wouldn’t have slept with any other woman without protection yet all he could think about with Anouk was burying himself deep inside her and driving them both to oblivion.
It made no sense.
‘Oh.’
She flushed, and he couldn’t help himself lowering his head and following the pretty flush with his lips.
She moaned softly and it went straight to his sex as surely as if she’d gripped him with her hands.
What the hell had he been saying?
‘Protection,’ he remembered hoarsely.
Another brief pause and then she shook her head.
‘Oh, Lord...no. No pill.’
She loosened her legs from around his hips as though it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. But he wasn’t about to give her up that easily.
He couldn’t.
He might not be able to slide inside her but he had to do something to sate this storm that raged and howled inside him, demanding more of her. Needing more of her.
Dropping to his knees, he hooked the shred of lace to one side.
‘Wait.’ She struggled to sit up, breathless and flustered. ‘What are you...?’
But he didn’t give her time to finish, he wanted to taste her too badly. Sliding one of her legs over his shoulder, he lowered his head and licked his way straight into her. Her shaky cry, as her hands tangled into his hair, was all the validation he needed.