Unable to help myself, I thrust against her clit, the friction sending fissions of heat across my skin.
A whimper comes from deep in her throat.
I want to devour her. She’s a powder keg waiting to detonate and I want to light the match.
I need to stop. Get back in control. This is supposed to be a teaser. Our first time can’t be up against a wall before we’ve even left the house.
I manage to drag my mouth away, and exercising considerable restraint, I step back. My breathing as ragged as hers.
I shake my head to clear it from the raging desire streaking through my bloodstream. One little kiss and she’s managed to knock me to my knees. I’m not quite sure what to make of it.
Her lids flutter open, revealing glazed eyes. Her chest heaves as she sucks air into her lungs. Between her bruised mouth and the color high on her cheeks, everything about her screams ready. I grit my teeth. Cock aching with the need to pound into her, I run my fingers through my hair.
She deserves better, and I intend to give her everything she deserves and then some. “Let’s go.”
Abby
Twenty minutes later we’re seated in a private U-shaped booth lining the back wall of a local Italian restaurant. In an attempt to get my bearings and figure out what happened, I blow out a deep breath. One touch of Lukas’s mouth and I’d lost it. I couldn’t help it. No other man has kissed me like that. Ever. It had been thrilling. Like being claimed and possessed, like everything I’d ever dreamed about but was too afraid to hope for.
I’d loved every second of it.
Unfortunately, the mood had turned.
Lukas almost seemed angry when we’d left the house and the car ride to the restaurant had been filled with tense silence. When we’d walked to the table in the Tuscan-decorated restaurant, he’d held my elbow with ruthless efficiency.
Since we sat down, he’s barely spoken.
The only explanation I can come up with is that I’d been far too eager. Maybe my inexperience had shown and now he regretted asking me to dinner?
Well, it was good while it lasted. At least now I understand what it means to be kissed properly. I have something to compare. I’d know how it’s supposed to feel the next time a man kisses me. A small consolation but it is something. I can live with it.
It’s progress, right?
I squeeze my hands tight in my lap. Above all else I’m a realist, and even as I’d gotten ready I’d known he might end up not wanting me. It’s all part of the process. It had been silly to think a tight dress and makeup done at the Mac counter would be enough to change his mind about me.
Now I have to do the right thing and let him off the hook. I can’t force the poor guy to have sex with me.
The waiter comes over and Lukas orders a bottle of wine without consulting the menu, letting me know I’m not the first woman he’s brought here.
I stare down at the empty white plate to gather my courage.
I refuse to feel sorry for myself. No, that’s the old me. The new me takes my punches then climbs right back into the ring.
Change is hard, but I’m committed and this setback will not stop me.
The second the waiter walks away, I raise my chin, twist the napkin in my lap and plunge into the difficult conversation ahead. “Lukas, it’s okay. Please don’t feel obligated.”
His attention snaps to me, his dark eyes narrow. “What?”
Here goes nothing.
I put on a bright, cheerful smile. “It’s totally fine, I get it. Let’s forget this whole thing ever happened. I promise I’ll never speak of it again.”
“What are you talking about?” His brows draw into a vee in the center of his forehead.
Hand fluttering to my neck, I toy with the delicate silver chain at my throat. Geez, couldn’t he just take the out I’m offering? There’s no need for him to make me spell it out.
I wait, hoping he’ll fill in the blanks and let me off the hook, but when he continues to stare at me, I sigh. Apparently he’s not willing to make this easy on me. “I totally appreciate your willingness to help me out. It’s really great of you. But I understand you’re not attracted enough to me to…um…consummate our friendship.”
This had to be one of the top five most embarrassing moments in my life. I contemplate calling a real estate agent tomorrow. The housing market is better than it has been, but it’s still not great. Who knows how long I’ll be stuck with him as a neighbor. I take a deep breath. I’ll survive. It’s only rejection, not the end of the world. I’ll recover from my mortification and bruised ego. Sure it might take a hundred years, but I will recover. It’s got to be character building, right?
“Not want you?” His lips firm into a hard line. “How in the hell could you think I don’t want you?”
How could I think he did? He’s barely spoken since we left the house, which I point out. “Well…um…you’ve been kind of sullen since you kissed me.”
His face smooths over. “Ah, I see.”
“Yes, well, I’m letting you off the hook.” I try for a smile but fear it fails miserably.
He moves to the center of the booth and crooks a finger. “Come over here.”
“What?” I stare at him, totally confused.
“Come here. Now.” His voice is a hard I-mean-business command.
I blink as butterflies take flight in my stomach. What is it about that highhanded tone that gets to me? I’ll analyze it later. Right now I have to get through this torture. I wave a hand. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll survive, I promise.”
One dark brow rises. “Are you going to make me come get you? Because, I warn you, in my current state that’s not a good idea.”
I’m completely lost about what’s going on here. See, I haven’t dated in too long because I clearly don’t know how to read him. I search his expression for any clue to his thoughts. All I see is hard-eyed determination. I bite my bottom lip, flipping through various possibilities and finally settle on the most likely.
He wants to comfort me. Well, okay, I’ll let him and get it over with. He obviously has a hero complex.
Carefully, I scoot next to him. His strong thigh presses against my bare leg, the fabric of his black dress pants rubbing against my oversensitive skin.
I ignore the attraction and focus on preparing for the sympathy coming my way.
Arm sliding along the back of the booth, he leans in close enough I smell his aftershave. A mixture of man and spices that would have been intoxicating if it weren’t for the circumstances. Warm breath falls over the shell of my ear and I can’t quite repress the shiver. A pang of loss fills my chest, and I let it wash over me.
I still have some tequila left; I can drown my sorrows and start anew tomorrow. I close my eyes, it’s okay to be sad for tonight.
Someday I’ll find another guy who makes me melt. Someday I’ll—
“That was about the hottest kiss I’ve ever had.”
At his words, my lids snap open. What did he say? I must have heard wrong.
“Despite what you think,” he continues in a low rumble. “I don’t normally have a hard time not fucking my dates before I even take them to dinner.”
Oh. So… I’m wrong? My mood instantly lightens. A hot flush fans out over my chest, crawls up my neck before splashing over my cheeks.
“But damn if I didn’t have a hell of a time resisting you.” He picks up a lock of my hair, letting the strands fall between his fingers. A rush of tingles travels down my back.
I stare at the white tablecloth, at a loss for what to say.
“Look at me, Abby.” His voice is a soft glance over my skin.
I comply because I feel powerless not to.
He smiles as he continues to play with my hair, his fingers brushing distractedly across my skin. “I’m sorry about the car. I didn’t stop to think of how you’d perceive it. The truth is I spent the ride trying to muster all my self-control so I didn’t jump you between the house and the re
staurant.”
Lukas Marlow considers me desirable? Is having a hard time resisting me? But no one ever has a hard time resisting me. I can’t quite believe it. I have to know, have to be sure. In a soft whisper I ask, “So you’re not just being nice?”
He chuckles, a low, lazy sound that sends a jolt of excitement through me. “If you had even an inkling of all the kinky things I’ve been thinking about doing to you, that would be the last question on your mind.”
Hope, and what might be a tiny seedling of sexual confidence, blooms in my chest. I know it sounds ridiculous. It’s not that I have low self-esteem, I don’t. I just consider myself brutally realistic. Growing up with a sister like Eden, who’s jaw-droppingly beautiful, I had to be. I’m not the pretty one. I’m the smart one. A fact reaffirmed to me my entire life. Don’t feel sorry for me though, it’s good to be a brain. It never fails me and it will last me long after beauty fades away. Only, I can’t pretend, it’s nice not to feel mousy, to feel like I am sexy enough to test Lukas’s control, if even for a brief moment in time.
Right here, sitting in this restaurant, he wants me.
Oh, I don’t harbor any delusions, I understand this is temporary. But how many women get the chance to live out their fantasy with the object of those fantasies? Not many.
No matter how uncomfortable. No matter how scary and unsure I am at being in the deep end of an unfamiliar pool, I’m going for it.
The waiter returns with our wine, saving me from having to respond. Lukas pulls away from me to nod at the bottle. I attempt to pay attention to the server, but Lukas’s fingers keep sliding up and down my bare shoulder as he goes through the tasting and pouring ritual.
He wants me. A smile slides over my lips as his hand brushes over my skin.
The waiter leaves and Lukas leans close, nipping my earlobe and making me jump. “What’s that smile for?”
I shrug, picking up my wineglass and taking a sip of the smoky Italian red he’d ordered. It slides down my throat, warming my stomach so I relax fractionally for the first time this evening.
“Tell me,” he insists, his hand lightly squeezing my shoulder.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to start all over.” And that you want me.
He laughs. “Careful, lavish compliments like that will give me a big head.”
The tight muscles in my neck loosen, and as I take another sip of the delicious wine, I look him up and down. All gorgeous and dangerous in his French-cut white button-down dress shirt. For a moment, I forget the situation and he’s back to being my neighbor. I grin. “I’m certain your head is plenty big.”
He grins right back. “Let’s talk about this list of yours.”
Ugh! Just when I’m getting comfortable, he has to bring that up? What on earth possessed me to write such an embarrassing list? Tension flooding to the forefront, I bury my face in my hands. “Do we have to?”
“Yes.” Amusement rings clear in his tone. His large hand rubs my neck. “Let’s start with number one.”
No! That’s the worst one of all!
I shake my head, wanting the floor to open up and swallow me. I had to go put it all in writing, didn’t I? Now there’s no way to pretend he’d misunderstood.
Damn my quest to become an adventurous wild woman. Dumb.
Unlike me, he seems perfectly relaxed with the conversation. “Have you ever had an orgasm? Or have you just not come with a man?” He finds a knot in my muscles and kneads the spot in slow circles.
It would have felt marvelous if not for the humiliating question on the table.
I look up at the ceiling decorated with large, intricate tiles. “You’re not really going to make me talk about this, are you? Can’t you…” I wave my hand in the air. “Take care of it and call it a day?”
He laughs. “Nope. Sorry, Abby.”
“But why?” Is it really necessary to embarrass me? Seems rather unconscionable and ungentlemanly to me.
One dimple flashes as he smiles. “That’s easy. You asked me to.”
“I most certainly did not,” I sputter, putting down my glass so I don’t spill it from the shock. Where’d he get such a crazy idea?
“Oh yes you did.”
“I never said anything about wanting to play true confessions.”
“You want to be handled. And I’m handling you.”
I furrow my brow. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh?” His fingers continue their slow, almost lazy perusal, dropping to the curve of my neck then sliding back up again. “And what did you mean, Abby?”
I open my mouth then snap it shut. What had I meant? I lick my dry lips. “Um, I don’t know, exactly. I suppose it's like porn, I’ll know it when I see it.”
Again he chuckles, shaking his head like I’m too silly for words. “Your list has a theme, little girl.”
For some odd reason my heartbeat kicks up. “It does not.”
His hand slides back up to my nape. “I can assure you, you’re wrong. You’re full of surprises. I’d never have guessed you have a taste for domination.”
“I do not!” I don’t even know what that means, but I’m smart enough to deny it.
“Is that so?” His grip tightens so I feel the pressure of his thumb on the pulse beating rapidly in my neck. He gives me an appraising look. “I was going to go easy on you, but since I can see you’re going to be difficult, I’ll spell it out.”
That sounds ominous. I’m one-hundred-percent positive I don’t want to hear this. I say nothing; staring down at the silverware as though it were the rarest of treasures. Maybe if I ignore him he’ll stop talking.
“You want to be tied up, spanked, put on display in a sex club, captured and used hard.” His warm breath on the shell of my ear makes me tremble despite my nerves. “Do you know what kind of girls like that kind of thing?”
Why did he have to put it like that? Skin flaming with embarrassment, I shake my head.
“Look at me.” His voice reaches inside me and tugs.
The last thing on earth I want is to look at him, but some mysterious force compels me to meet his gaze. At his expression, I suck in a breath. I expect to see repressed laughter, but his dark eyes smolder.
“Girls who like to be dominated.” He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. The touch erotic as he captivates me. “Controlled.”
I frown. That’s not possible.
“I can see you’re confused,” he says conversationally, as though we’re discussing the weather. “Do you know much about domination and submission?”
“No.” The word comes out like I’m being strangled. I clear my throat. “Isn’t that when people dress up in leather and wear collars and stuff?”
I shudder, none of that is on my list, and this time I’m thankful I have the visual proof as testimony to that fact. I can show him in black-and-white I said no such thing.
He picks up a lock of my hair and twirls it around his fingers. “For some people, if that’s what they like, but for others it can be strictly in the bedroom where one person gives up complete control to another.”
Complete control? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”
“Whatever we want it to.” Brown eyes gleaming, a smile of pure sin slides over his lips. “Or should I say, what I want it to?”
At those words, and the expression on his face, an unfamiliar ache takes up residence between my thighs.
“Let’s try a little experiment.” He flashes that damn dimple, all charming and casual.
There’s no dipping my toe into the shallow end with him. He’s getting right to it and now that the dawning is upon me, nerves twist in my stomach.
“Like what?” I’d somehow given him the wrong impression. All I’d been talking about was a little bit wild. I want the exact opposite of what he’s proposing. I want to take control, not give it up.
“Abby.” His tone takes on the same edge from earlier and like before it makes goose bumps break out over my ski
n. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”
Oh no, we’re back to that.
Heat fans out over my cheeks and on instinct I move back, wanting to widen the distance between us, only his fingers are locked around the back of my neck in a tight grip.
His thumb presses, bringing my attention to my rapidly beating pulse point. The gesture is threatening, but somehow my body betrays me and my stomach dips with excitement.
My heartbeat picks up another notch as a thread of panic weaves an unexpected pattern with desire.
Before I can process my reactions, he moves fast, his mouth claiming mine.
At his onslaught, I gasp, parting my lips. His tongue curls around mine, scattering my thoughts. His hand tightens on my throat as he kisses me with that aggressive, hard possessiveness I’ve always craved but didn’t have a name for.
A wave of lust crashes over me and I’m sucked into the swirling, chaotic undertow.
Eyes drifting closed, a low whimper leaves my throat, and I grip his muscled forearm.
Abruptly he breaks away.
I chase his mouth, not done with him yet, but he evades.
“What I say goes.” He punctuates his remark with a short, brutal kiss. “The second you sent me that list, you gave up control to me.” Again his lips claim mine.
Dizzy with desire, his words, the press of his mouth, pushes past my nerves and reservations. All my overthinking.
He rips his mouth away, and I practically fall into his lap. “When I ask you something, I expect an answer, not questions.”
My body and mind are so confused I can’t form a sentence.
But I needn’t have worried because his mouth crashes down on me, and there is no more thought. The invasion of his tongue eradicating all doubt how he is handling me.
I surrender to it. Yes, this is exactly what I meant.
He releases my mouth. Grip remaining tight on my neck he growls, “Now tell me if you’ve ever had a fucking orgasm.”
Eyelids flying open, I meet his penetrating gaze.
I can’t deny my response. My body practically vibrates with it. My nipples are hard. The fabric of the black underwear I wear, damp. And he’s barely touched me.
The Burn List Page 4