My Sinful Love (Sinful Men Book 4)

by Lauren Blakely

  Instead, I gestured to the edge of the pool area as I hiked my bag on my shoulder. “Walk with me?”

  “Where are we headed? Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.” I patted my stomach as we walked. “You know I always have a good appetite.”

  A smile spread slowly on his face, and he nodded. “Your French metabolism,” he said.

  “So they say.” I was trim, but I didn’t deprive myself. My secret was simple—I put one foot in front of the other and burned it off.

  “Still walk everywhere?”

  I nodded and then held up a finger as we reached the doorway leading into the hotel. “Wait. That’s not true. I took an Uber today,” I said, like it was a confession.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Naughty girl.”

  “I know. But in my defense, I was several miles away. I went to breakfast with Becky.”

  “Yeah? How was that?”

  I scrunched my brow. “A little odd, to tell you the truth. I’ll tell you about it at lunch. If you want to get lunch? I have about an hour.”

  He nodded. “Sure. I know some great spots here at Caesars.”

  I set my hand on his arm, wrapping it around his bicep. Oh, that was nice. He was so toned, so strong. “I actually thought we’d be done by now. That I’d have you arrive at the end of the shoot and then . . .”

  “And then what?”

  I shrugged happily. “And then . . .” I let my voice trail off once more, leaving possibilities lingering in the air. The truth was I’d been hoping for more of last night. For a repeat performance, and then some. I wanted to touch him, to smash into him, to feel him grind against me, and to wrap my legs around him. Call me greedy, call me needy—I’d own up to all of that. But when the director had told me a little while ago that the shoot would last well into the afternoon, and maybe the evening, I wasn’t so sure I’d get the time I wanted with Michael. I’d have to settle for lunch. I gestured right at the next corner, indicating the hallway that led to the business suites in the hotel.

  “Where are we headed, Annalise?”

  “I left my purse in our suite—the one we all use for the day. It’s kind of cool. Like a dressing room, because the models get ready there.”

  “So it’s full of bikinis?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “Will you model some for me?”

  “Would you like me to?” I volleyed back, as the sparks zipped between us. The flirting—this heady, decadent flirting—was fantastic. I wanted to inhale it, let it fill my body like oxygen after too long without air.

  “I believe that was established twice—a few minutes ago, as well as on the terrace last night.”

  “Last night was interesting,” I said softly as we reached the door.

  He tilted his head. “Yeah? What made it interesting for you?”

  “Seeing you, of course.”

  “Was that all?” he asked.

  I knew he was fishing. But I wanted him to catch me at the end of his line. I needed him to reel me in.

  I leaned in close, my head bending to his neck, my breath traveling across his skin. He smelled so damn good, clean and masculine, his aftershave hinting at the scent of the forest. “Touching you.”

  His hands shot out, gripping my upper arms. Tightly. “You like touching me?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

  Like? I fucking loved it. I wanted my hands all over him. Wanted to explore him.

  “So much.”

  He exhaled hard. “One hour, you say?”

  My lips pressed against his neck, then I whispered softly, “Sixty whole minutes. Minus ten now, from the time we spent on the pool deck.” I said it like an invitation.

  “Let’s get out of the hallway, then.”

  I nodded, reached for my key, and opened the door.

  15

  Michael

  Bright lights assaulted me. Fluorescents shone starkly from the ceiling, revealing one wall lined with makeup counters, four mirrors with exposed light bulbs framing each. I reached for the switch to dim the light to a normal illumination so I could be alone with Annalise without my retinas frying, when the wispy blonde model from the shoot waved a hand.

  Ah fuck. That was a buzzkill. So much for the privacy of this room. My shoulders sagged. It was like being in college again, roommates crawling out of every nook and cranny, right when I’d been hoping to have my hands all over Annalise. My fingers itched to touch her.

  “Hi, Annalise,” the blonde said, stretching her arms over her head, pushing them into a gray sweatshirt. She poked her head through the hole.

  Annalise cleared her throat. “Hey, Candy. What are you up to?”

  “Just going to do some yoga during our break.”

  “Great plan. Good use of time. I just need to grab my purse.” Annalise gestured to a beige couch littered with purses, bags, and jackets. “Then you can do your downward dog to your heart’s content.”

  Candy waved a hand. “I’m meeting my yoga guru in his room. He travels with me.”

  “Oh,” Annalise said, seeming to rein in a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s smart. To have him travel with you.”

  “Thanks! I better go. I only have a few minutes to clear my mind of dangerous toxins,” she said, then seemed to float to the door.

  She left, and the door clicked shut with a satisfying thunk.

  “A traveling yoga guru?” I asked dryly.

  “Don’t you have one? I mean, really. How else could you travel?”

  I held up my hands. “Can’t imagine how I’ve managed without one,” I said, then glanced around the room.

  “It’s a good thing she had to leave to see him, though, don’t you think?” she said.

  “It’s a great thing. Think anyone else will pop in?”

  “It’s possible.” Annalise gave an indifferent shrug. “But that’s what chain locks are for.”

  She dropped her camera bag to the carpeted floor and slid the lock into place. In a second I was behind her, dragging my nose along her exposed shoulder. “I like touching you too. So fucking much.”

  “I like you touching me,” she whispered, facing the door, her fingers frozen on the lock.

  I dragged my hands along her sides, traveling over the fabric of her tank top, along her waist, up her ribs to her breasts, then back down. With her hair pinned up, her neck was bare and inviting. I dipped my head to the soft, sweet flesh, inhaling her. She trembled, shudders racking her whole body. I kissed a path along her neck, up to her ear, then nipped her earlobe.

  “Michael,” she said, all low and needy.

  “Yes?”

  She twisted to face me, looping her arms around my neck. “Last night was . . . intense.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded, then nibbled on her lip.

  A part of me knew there was so much to say. Words about time and distance and longing. Questions about her heart and her head. Practical matters too, like how long she was in town. Would I see her again after today? And had she missed me over the years with the same kind of intensity I’d missed her?

  My brain fought back, reminding me I was being ridiculous. This was just fiery lust, and it had been reignited so furiously it blazed white-hot.

  “How intense?” I asked, brushing the backs of my fingers along her cheek. “We only kissed last night.”

  “Kissing can drive you crazy, though, don’t you think?”

  “I made you crazy last night?” I toyed with her, wanting to hear the admission from her, the breathless, gasping yes.

  “Wild. I was wild,” she said, then reached for my hands and led me to the row of mirrors with the lights. She hopped up on the counter, perching on the edge, and beckoned me closer. With my thigh, I nudged open her legs and wedged myself between them. Ah, my favorite place to be. The place I wanted to get to know so much better. Ideally when we were both naked, but this was at least a good start.

  She roped her arms around my neck and raised her eyes to mine. H
ers were a confession. A dirty one. “Last night wasn’t just the two of us kissing. When I returned to my room, there was more.”

  “Tell me,” I said, threading a hand in her hair, letting the silk flames fall against my fingers. “I want to picture it exactly.”

  “Standing up. Against the door. Fast, intense.”

  I breathed out hard, electric heat sparking through me. “Did I make you come? Like I did all those other times?” I asked, reminding her that I was the first man to bring her to orgasm. My fingertips stroked the denim on her thighs, traveling a path I’d loved when I was younger. She’d loved it too—falling apart in the back of the car, my hands under her skirt. Her body had been such a discovery to me. Learning how she liked to be touched, how she moved, how she felt, so silky hot in my hands. How she sounded when she had her first orgasm. She’d learned all those things too. We were explorers together, mapping the terrain of our bodies.

  “Yes,” she said on a breathy pant. “I moaned your name. The way you liked it.”

  Desire surged in me, climbing up my spine, spreading over my skin. I’d loved the way she said my name when she came.

  I cupped her cheeks in my hands, holding her face firmly, and sealed my mouth to hers, kissing her hard and rough, the way she liked it now, because she wasn’t the same girl I’d made out with after midnight in the back seat. She was a woman, and I was a man. I needed it harder, rougher, hungrier too. I drew her bottom lip between mine, sucking and nibbling as she writhed closer, wrapping her legs around me.

  One hand snaked down her tank, brushing the top of a perfect breast, and I moaned deeply into her mouth then resumed the kiss, a commanding kiss that would leave her lips bruised. She arched her back, seeking more closeness.

  Traveling from her breasts to her stomach to her jeans, I flicked open the top button. A clock sounded in my head, awareness that time was ticking, that someone could knock at any moment. The lock was in place, but even so, I wasn’t going to fuck her right now. That would happen when I could spread her out on a bed, worship her beautiful body, and kiss every inch of her skin. It would happen, too, when she was ready.

  My blood heated as I imagined how intense it would be to have her.

  There wasn’t time now for all that I wanted, but there were more than enough minutes to make her come. I unzipped and pulled down her jeans, and she gripped my shoulders, her breath coming out in a hungry moan. Sliding my hand over the fabric of her panties, my fingertips traced what I suspected was a perfect auburn landing strip waiting for me beneath the lace. I dropped lower, touching the wet panel of her panties.

  “And evidently you’re a bit turned on now too,” I said, the understatement of the year.

  “Just a tiny bit,” she said, as her mouth fell open. Her head rolled back. Legs widened. There was so much want in her eyes. So much need. Wedged between her legs, my cock throbbing and pressed hard against her thigh, I slid my fingers inside her panties, brushing wet, swollen lips.

  Fuck.

  Hot and velvet and so damn wet.

  “I can take care of this for you.”

  “Please.” Her voice was feathery, a soft, gasping cry.

  I wasn’t sure who needed this more—me or her. I desperately wanted to make her lose control, to surrender. Hell, she seemed to crave it like air. Her heady moans, her breathy gasps told me she was a woman consumed. I could smell her need, could feel it radiating off of her. She was a tuning fork, vibrating at the highest frequency of desire.

  I ran my fingers through her slick heat until I was coated in her.

  “So good,” she whispered, as I traced circles over her clit.

  I brought my fingers to my lips and sucked off her taste. Her green eyes widened, watching me. “How do I taste?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Decadent,” I answered in a growl.

  “Give me some,” she demanded.

  And that was entirely new. This was not the Annalise I knew before. She’d never demanded to share. I was thrilled at this dirtier side of her.

  “Such a greedy lover,” I teased, as I rubbed my fingers over her lips. Instantly, she drew me into her mouth, taking my fingers all the way in, sucking off her taste as if she were sucking my cock. My dick twitched, hardening to nearly uncomfortable levels in my pants. But I’d take this kind of torture. I’d fucking endure it for hours, just to witness the sight of her mad desire. She twirled her tongue around me, as if simulating how she’d take me in her mouth. She’d never done that. I’d never felt her lush lips on me.

  She looked so good like that. So hot and greedy, her cheeks hollowed out as her lips gripped my fingers tight. More. I wanted to see more of this.

  Taking my fingers from her mouth, I dipped them across her slick folds again, then returned them to her lips. I fucked her mouth with my fingers as I brought my other hand between her legs. As I stroked her, I learned her pace quickly—she liked it fast and hard—and I rubbed her clit like that, in perfect, speedy circles.

  She moved her hips against my hand, writhing into me. Then, with her tongue, she pushed my fingers out of her mouth, freeing herself to moan broken words of bliss in her French accent.

  Oh God.

  So good.

  Yes. More. That. Fuck me.

  God, there was so much I wanted to say. So many words that threatened to escape. Words like dreamed about you, wanted you for so long, and more, so much more. Words I wouldn’t let myself say, because those were only the hormones talking, right?

  “Did you fuck yourself like this last night? Thinking of me?” I asked, my voice rough as I plunged my fingers inside her slick heat.

  “Yes.”

  “Thinking of how much you want me?”

  She nodded as she lifted her chin, asking for a kiss.

  I dipped my head, crushing my lips to hers, tasting her as I fucked her pussy with my fingers. With my free hand, I gripped the back of her head, holding her tight against my mouth.

  But then, in a flash, everything shifted.

  She grabbed my hand between her legs and gripped my wrist. She circled her hips, jerking her body, rising against me, and holding me in place. I’d become her goddamn vibrator as she rocked into my hand in frantic jerks, desperately racing to come.

  “Do it,” I growled, urging her on. “Do it till you get there.”

  She fucked my hand with reckless, untamed need, clenching tight around my fingers until she moaned into my mouth, her lips falling away from mine. She cried out, gasping “I’m coming” in French.

  That was the girl I’d known. She’d always come in French. Her words always returned to her native language when she soared off the cliff into orgasm. Hell, her sexy, breathy moans right now were rich with her accent that she only had in moments like these.

  I lowered my mouth, kissing her neck, dragging my teeth across the tender skin, biting her. I needed to mark this woman who’d haunted me. For years, she’d been the yardstick, the dream, the what-if fantasy. The trouble was, making her come, watching her lose all control for me, did nothing to abate that pent-up desire for her. The opposite had happened. It stoked the flames. I wanted her more than ever. Wanted to slide inside her, wanted to feel her snug and tight around me, wanted to know what it was like to make love to—no. Not that. To fuck this woman.

  She shuddered, her shoulders shaking. It occurred to me that my fingers were still inside her. Gently, I removed them.

  She looked up at me from hooded, sated eyes. “I think I treated your hand like a dildo,” she said, a sweet little smirk on her gorgeous face.

  “You did. But I’m perfectly okay with you treating my hand, cock, or mouth as a sex toy anytime you want,” I said, and she laughed. I leaned in, moving my lips to her ear. “Because I want you with every part of me. I want to fuck you in every way,” I told her. “To have you in any way I can.”

  She wrapped her hands around my neck. “I want that too. I want it desperately.”

  “So what do you want to do about that?”
/>   I waited for her answer, watching her expression change from one of euphoria to something else entirely, something that looked a lot like uncertainty.

  My heart cratered.

  16

  Annalise

  As soon as I want it desperately tumbled from my lips, I caught myself.

  A strange sensation washed over me. I’d just come with another person for the first time in two years. I should feel ecstatic, but instead a seed of doubt pushed and shoved against my skin, because it was the first time I’d been with someone new in more than a decade, and this wasn’t just someone. It was Michael. I was ready to love again, but I wasn’t ready to lose again.

  I was scared.

  I shouldn’t be.

  I really shouldn’t.

  But as I brushed my messy hair from my face with fingers that had clutched Michael like a lifeline, fear turned my blood sluggish. I pressed my lips together, holding in this feeling, sucking it down. Maybe I could just ride it out.

  Like he could sense my panic, Michael tucked his fingers under my chin and raised my face. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  His voice was warm, full of concern, and his eyes searched my expression. It was then that I realized why I’d thought he was a safe choice. Because in this moment, he was. We’d always talked; we’d been as open as a couple could be. I said softly, “I just can’t believe I’m here, and you’re here, and we’re here. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “I know,” he said carefully. “And I don’t want to push you into anything.”

  My eyes widened. “No. God, no. You didn’t push me. I wanted all of it. I wanted you. I just need some time to catch up.”

  He smiled. “We can slow down, Annalise. I just want you to feel good. In every way. Your heart, and your body.” He ran his hand down my arm. My gaze followed the path of his fingertips, and I registered what he’d done. He’d gone from pleasuring me to comforting me. He could do both, just as I could talk freely to him about this pendulum swing of emotions.

  I took a long, deep breath, met his gaze, and made a choice. To live in the present and not worry about the future.