The Affair (The Evolution of Sin 1)

“Are you ready to have a mature conversation about this now, Elle?” His voice was disarmingly soft and the hand that skimmed down the bare skin of my arm was gentle but when I turned slightly to face him, his deep blue eyes were frosted with censure.

“Mature?” I repeated, shocked by his rudeness.

He remained calm and grabbed my hands as they came up to push him away. “How are old are you? Twenty-two?”

I glared at him but he only raised one cool brow in the face of my defiance.

“Twenty-four,” I muttered.

He kissed the center of one of my trapped palms. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Clearly, you have never had an affair before, of any kind and I admit that is part of your considerable appeal.” The way he stressed the word considerable, tilting his hips slightly so that they were pressed against mine, unraveled me. “And obviously, you have a problem with the idea of my infidelity. What would make you feel better about it? If I said that I had never cheated on her before? I haven’t. That out relationship is rocky, that she is bitter and we haven’t slept together in months or years? Lies.” His turbulent eyes locked onto mine with utter sincerity. “The truth is, she is steady and whip-smart, beautiful. I’ve been with her for a very long time.”

I could feel my heart beating too slowly, too heavily. It knocked monotonously inside my chest like the dooming toll of an old clock.

He seized me suddenly, pressing me against the wall and lifting me slightly so that I was suspended between his warm body and the cool glass. One hand supported my back and the other delved into the thick hair at the base of my neck so that I was completely entangled with him. Suddenly, I couldn’t bare the idea of not being with him.

“But I want you. I want to know the flavor of the skin behind your knees and the way you smell aroused by my touch. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you against my skin.”

I was flushed by the heat of his praise, of his steely body against mine and I almost moaned with lust but my resolve still wavered. Could I really do this?

He took a deep, almost frustrated breath and for a moment, his handsome face was suspended in heart-wrenching uncertainty. “Don’t say no. I don’t think I could let you go.”

Oh my. That did it. I brought my hand up to his strong face and placed my forehead against his. “I’ll stay.”

He stiffened and sucked in a ragged breath. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” I smiled, joy blooming in my chest. “I want to.”

His mouth was on mine before I had finished speaking, hard and rough in his haste. I moaned as his tongue swept into my mouth and plundered. My hands sunk into his thick hair and tugged him closer, my legs wrapped around his torso so that I was locked onto him.

His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, sucking lightly at the tender skin there as the hand in my hair tilted my head back.

“Ah,” I breathed.

Urged on by my exclamation, he deftly undid the pearl buttons of my bodice to reveal the pale lacey bra I wore. He groaned at the sight of me and bent his head to suck at my puckered nipple through the thin fabric. I arched into the wet heat of his mouth and groaned. The solid length of him pushed against the apex of my thighs and I imagined what he would feel like inside me, stretching me and filling me until I burst with pleasure.

Suddenly desperate for the feel of his skin against mine, I fumbled with the buttons of his ivory shirt and pushed it from his shoulders. His skin was stretched tight across his lean cut muscles and when I opened my mouth over the skin of his shoulder to bite down lightly, the manly, slightly salty taste of him exploded in my mouth.

With a growl, he reared up and trapped both of my hands in one of his, pinning them to the foggy glass so that he could have unfettered access to my breasts.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, his hot breath wafting over my nipple as he deftly undid my bra and plumped my breasts between his capable hands. “I have to taste you.”

I almost choked on my sharp inhalation of surprise when he dropped to his knees and tugged my dress to the floor. He grasped my hips in a vice like grip and pressed his nose to the apex of my thighs, breathing deeply. It was unbearably erotic, seeing him on his knees before me, his dark head against my pale thighs. He ran his nose down the inside of my thigh, nipping the skin there so that I jerked. His soft chuckle fanned across my sex and further inflamed my arousal. I was quivering puddy in his hands.

“What do you want?” he asked as he pressed his closed lips to my clit and hummed lightly.

“You,” I panted.

“Here?” He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of my thigh.

“No,” I groaned in frustration. “Higher.”

“What?” he practically purred, swirling his tongue in my belly button.

“Your mouth.” I had never begged before, for anything, but all reservations had melted off long ago. “On me.”

I groaned as he slowly began to peel off my underwear.

My head fell back against the glass and I squeezed my eyes closed in anticipation. But instead of the lush feel of his mouth against me, the dull thud of vibrations against the wooden floor jolted me from my stupor.