Her laugh started as a giggle and grew until it shook her whole body. Her happiness added to Beckett’s joy until he couldn’t stop smiling. And he knew this short time with Eden would count as one of the best dates of his life, even if they never got any further than this.
Then she went and blew another fuse by whispering, “Go ahead. Touch me.”
7
Eden hadn’t felt this playful or free with a guy since she’d been in high school. High school, when nothing mattered but self-discovery and figuring out what life was all about. And as Beckett’s dark eyes latched on to hers while his hand slid up her inner thigh, Eden realized that was really what this stage of her life was about—discovering who she was now, after everything that had happened, after how far she’d come.
The fiery look in Beckett’s eyes told Eden she was still attractive, still sexy, still desirable. And she hadn’t felt wanted, or even worthy of being wanted, in so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like. Beckett was damn good at reminding her it felt downright intoxicating.
His touch left a wake of tingles along her thigh, and by the time his fingers neared her panties, she was swollen and damp and throbbing. Her sex clenched, preparing for a heavy hand. But Beckett’s fingers barely touched her as they brushed past and traced the lace band low on her belly.
“Put your arm around me.” His murmur drew Eden’s gaze from his mouth to his eyes. “It’ll give us more privacy.”
Her awareness instantly widened to the dim space around them, to the other customers in the bar, to the waitresses wandering between tables. It was crowded and dark, and everyone was in their own world. The waitresses were working too hard to take time to notice them. And she and Beckett weren’t the only couple cuddling up in dark corners.
Eden leaned closer, reached across his body, fisted her hand in the fabric of his jacket, and brushed a kiss across his lips.
He met the touch just as gently, eyes heavy lidded and staring into hers while his fingers explored the fabric of her panties without taking or grabbing. “Lace and satin?” His words sounded like a heavy purr. “What color?”
The throb between her legs intensified to an uncomfortable ache. “Guess.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “I think it would depend on your mood.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night I met you, I think you’d have been wearing black—kick-ass-and-take-names, all business. Tonight, you seem like more of a hot-pink type of woman.”
She grinned and pulled his lower lip between hers for a moment. “Which do you prefer?”
“Both.”
“Are you really that easy to please?”
“Not usually, but you seem to be able to please me in all sorts of unexpected ways.” He leaned his forehead against hers, then tilted his head and kissed her temple. “Does your bra match?”
His whisper feathered warmth over her skin and made her eyes flutter closed. She moaned softly, lifting her hips. “What do you think?”
“I think it does. You know what else I think?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re wet.”
A flicker of embarrassment heated her
face, and she let out a soft laugh. She was really glad she’d had those drinks now. She wouldn’t have been able to battle her anxiety over taking this step on her own, and she’d really needed to take this step. Really needed to feel beautiful and wanted again.
“Are you wet for me, Eden?” he asked, his voice a rough, sexy whisper that made her throat tight.
Her pussy surged at his words. “I’m so wet, I ache.”
He kissed her beneath her ear. “Do you want me to slide my hand between your legs and feel how wet you are?”
“Yes.” The word whispered from her lips, and panic immediately followed. She opened her eyes to check their surroundings again and found his hot gaze staring back at her.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “No one’s paying any attention to us.”
He held her gaze as his fingertips slipped beneath the edge of her panties, and his hand—his big, warm, and rough hand—ever so gently pressed between her thighs. Deep between her thighs. Until his palm rested over her mound and his long fingers slid over her opening.