An Instant Connection (Insta-Spark)

I liked it.

The waiter brought our dessert and coffee, not at all surprised to find us on the same side of the booth.

Mitch slid his fork into the dense cheesecake, lifting it to his mouth. His sexy, full mouth that had teased me all night. His eyes shut as he chewed and swallowed. He cut off another slice, holding out his fork.

“You have to try this. It is amazing.”

He had done that the whole night. Spearing small bites off his plate, offering them to me, watching my mouth intently as I tasted and swallowed. He licked his lips often, and more than once, shifted in his seat. It was oddly sensual for him to feed me.

I opened my mouth to accept the bite, then shut my eyes and let the creamy, sweet taste coat my tongue. The tart blackberries heightened the flavor, and a small groan escaped my lips.

Opening my eyes, I met his staggered gaze. His fork was frozen, hovering over his plate.

“Mitch?” I asked. “What is it?”

His fork fell to his plate with a clatter. He turned fully, facing me.

“What is it?” he repeated. “You really have to ask that?”

I shook my head, confused. “Yes?”

He pressed nearer, and without a thought, I turned into him. We were so close I could feel his hot breath on my face. Feel the warmth of his body pressed to mine.

“It’s you,” he growled softly. “Your enticing mouth and erotic sounds. The way you look at me. Your captivating eyes.” He stroked his knuckles down my face. “Your expressions and your laughter.” His voice dropped further. “I want to kiss you right now. Please tell me I can.”

My breath faltered. I didn’t know this man. I had met him a few short hours ago. But somewhere between his directness, his teasing, our non-stop conversation, and his sexy, over-the-top commentary, that had ceased to matter. I wanted him.

And I wanted him to kiss me.

Senseless.

He smirked—wide, knowing, and confident.

“Not a problem, sweetheart.”

Then his mouth was on mine.

I didn’t think we could get closer. I was wrong. He yanked me to him as if I was a lifesaver and he was a drowning man. His lips slanted over mine, demanding, yet tender. Our mouths moved, sliding and molding to each other. His tongue slid along my bottom lip, and with a sigh, I opened for him.

Desire, hot and intense, exploded. His taste overwhelmed me. He fisted my hair, tilting my head, going deeper. He consumed me. His tongue stroked and teased. Tasted and explored. He tugged me with both hands, almost pulling me onto his lap, his hand on my hip, curving to form to my body. He surrounded me, and everything outside the booth ceased to exist. There was nothing, nobody, but him and me. His chest rumbled in pleasure as I weaved my fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands, and caressing his skin.

With a low moan, he pulled away, dragging his lips along my cheek to my ear. “You are even more than I hoped,” he murmured. He teased the skin of my neck, making me shudder in delight.

“Your skin is so soft,” he breathed into my ear. “I want to know how it feels against mine. All of it.”

“Mitch,” I whispered. “We just met.”

“I know,” he acknowledged, his mouth ghosting over my cheek, kissing me again. “Tell me you feel this connection.”

“Yes.”

“Come to my hotel.”

My breathing hitched. “I… We…”

He shook his head. “I expect nothing. I promise. I just want you alone. I want to kiss you properly.”

I lifted one eyebrow in disbelief and ran my fin