wanted. “What are you thinking?” I broke down and asked.
“I’m counting how many glasses of wine you had. Two at dinner. One after the concert, and it’s been what? Five hours?” His eyes narrowed in thought.
“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying! Like I need alcohol as an excuse—”
“Oh no,” he cut me off, dropping his voice even lower. “I’m not asking for you. I’m asking for me, so that I know when I ask this next question, you’re not too drunk to answer it.”
My tongue wet my suddenly dry lips. “Okay.”
“Do you want me, Ella?”
“I think I’ve been pretty clear that I do.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t say ‘do you want to make out with me?’ Do you want me? Because I’m standing here, trying to keep my hands on the counter so I don’t send them up your dress to the insides of your thighs.”
My lips parted, too heavy to stay closed.
“Because I know once they’re stroking over that soft skin, there’s no way I’m going to be able to breathe without taking you, sliding inside you like I’ve fantasized about for entirely too long.” He enunciated that last bit, driving home exactly what he wanted to happen in case I hadn’t gotten the picture.
That was exactly what I wanted, craved…needed more than the very breath he was talking about.
“And once that happens, everything changes between us, Ella. So I need you to tell me that you want me, or walk out that door before something happens that you’re not ready for.”
I couldn’t remember being more ready for anything in my life.
“I.” I opened the button of my shrug. “Want.” I took it off. “You.” I dropped it to the floor.
“Ella.” He pushed off the counter.
“Here and now,” I added, unfastening the button of the halter behind my neck, just in case the man needed my consent—hell, my plea—on record. The straps fluttered to my sides, the curves of my breasts holding the neckline in place.
“Thank you, God.” He didn’t bother with the buttons on his shirt, just reached over the back of his head and pulled it off in that incredibly sexy way guys had. But Beckett made it about a hundred times sexier as his torso was revealed.
All rippling muscles and kissable skin. Pretty sure I could orgasm just looking at him. Not that I’d ever had that happen without a little battery-powered assistance, but if there ever was a moment, this was it.
“You are so…” I waved my hands in his direction. “All that is just… I don’t have words.”
“Good,” he said, dropping his shirt to the floor. “Because I’m going to need to use that mouth for other things besides talking.” He closed the distance between us in two strides, took my knees in his hands, and parted my thighs. Then he made good on his promise, sending his hands up my dress until they reached the tops of my thighs, only to grip, then pull us flush.
I locked my arms around his neck when he kissed me. It was deep, powerful, and primal, his mouth taking mine like he was staking a claim. Unleashed, Beckett kissed with a little less finesse and a lot more urgency. My body responded, tightening my breasts and rushing heat over my skin.
I gasped against his mouth as his thumb slid beneath the edge of my panties, and my nails bit into his scalp lightly when he parted me and grazed my clit.
“Beckett,” I pleaded, pushing my hips toward him in reflex.
“I’ve got you,” he promised. Then he kissed me slowly, his tongue sliding with mine as his thumb worked me over, swirling, stroking, and pressing, turning that warmth in my belly into a knot of tension that he wound tighter and tighter.
I moved restlessly, my need to feel his skin against mine warring with my equal need to keep his hands exactly where they were. As if he sensed my thoughts, his unoccupied hand skimmed up over my waist to my back, where he unzipped my dress.
The fabric gave way easily, baring my strapless bra. I arched, pressing my breasts against his chest, and he pressed his thumb against my clit, sending bolts of pleasure through me, sweet and sharp at the same time.
Stilling his thumb, he did some form of witchcraft behind my back that unsnapped my bra, freeing my breasts as it fell to my lap. He broke our kiss to look down at me, reverently cupping a breast and running his