‘That feels so good. I know I must be really tight.’
Cruz groaned inwardly, knowing she hadn’t meant that comment the way his depraved mind had interpreted it. Yes, she did feel tight. Too tight. Too nervous.
He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she moaned softly and her head lolled on the graceful stem of her neck and the question died in his throat.
All through dinner he’d imagined doing this. Touching her, tasting her. He’d been harder than stone all night and he wasn’t sure if he’d committed to five hotels in China or fifty. Nor did he care. Right now he’d put a hundred on Mars if someone asked him to.
Aspen moaned again and shifted beneath his pressing thumbs.
‘Harder or softer?’ he asked, the rough timbre of his voice reflecting his deep arousal.
He heard her breath catch, and then his did as well as her gorgeous bottom brushed his fly.
‘Harder,’ she whispered, and a shudder ripped through him.
The musky perfume of her skin was ambrosia to his senses and he trailed soft kisses across her shoulders. Her head fell forward and she braced her hands on the side table in front of her. Cruz registered her position on a purely primal level and knew all he’d have to do was lift that long silk skirt, tear whatever excuse for a pair of panties she was hiding underneath, bend her a little more forward and slide right into her—and he very nearly did.
But he wanted more of her taste in his mouth first, and with unsteady hands he gripped the side of her waist and trailed tiny moist kisses down the column of her spine until he reached the small of her back.
She undulated for him, arching backwards, and unable to hold himself back any longer he rose, spun her around to face him and slanted his mouth across hers. Not softly, as he had done earlier in the stables—he was too far gone for that—but hard, with barely leashed power and a deep driving hunger to be inside her.
She opened for him instantly, her fingers impatient as they delved into his hair to anchor him to her. That was okay with him. He barely noticed the bite of her short nails, concentrating instead on the throbbing sense of satisfaction as his tongue filled her mouth. He tasted coffee and cream and couldn’t suppress a groan.
Somehow some of her earlier hesitation seeped into the minute part of his brain that still functioned on an intellectual level and he attempted to steady himself—before he just dragged her to the floor and had done with it.
Then her tongue stroked his and his mind gave out. Sensation hot and strong coursed through him, just as it had every other time he’d kissed her, and he couldn’t help curving her closer so that they touched everywhere.
The silky fabric of her dress slid against his jacket in an erotic parody of skin on skin. Which was what he wanted. What he needed. And, keeping his mouth firmly on hers, he shucked out of it and then lashed at the buttons on his shirt.
She moaned, her warm hands pushing the fabric off his body as she shaped his arms and his shoulders before clinging once more around his neck.
Cruz reached behind her neck. His fingers felt clumsy in his desperation as he finally managed to undo the two pearl-like buttons that held the top of the dress together.
Aroused to an unbearable pitch, he smoothed a hand down to the small of her back, his lips cruising along her jawline until he could tug on the lobe of her ear. She was wearing tiny gold studs and he tongued one as he bit down gently on her flesh and brought his hands around to cradle both breasts in the palms of his hands. She trembled delightfully and her responsiveness rocked him to his core.
His thumb caught her nipple and she cried out, gripping him tighter. Cruz knew that neither of them was going to make it to the bedroom so he didn’t even try. Instead he lifted her onto the side table and hoped it would hold.
It did, and he pulled back and looked down at her.
Her nipples pebbled enticingly beneath his lingering gaze and he plumped one breast up. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he breathed, taking the rosy tip into his mouth.
Arousal beat through his body, hot and insistent, and he urged her thighs wider so that he could settle his erection between her legs. Unfortunately the table wasn’t high enough for him to take her on it and he knew he’d have to lift her onto him when the time came.
‘Thank heavens you’re wearing a dress,’ he growled around her tight, wet nipple, his impatient hands delving beneath the reams of fabric to find her.
Moments later he felt her panic in the stiffening of her thighs and the press of her fingernails on his shoulders.
‘Wait!’