starts, “your parents aren’t the villain in this story,” he brings his knuckles to my cheek and caresses my cheekbone. “I am.”
Even though his voice is soft, his words are dangerous, but somehow, I’m only excited, not afraid.
I look at him as he studies my face. I wonder if he’s searching for fear. When his lips turn up with another panty-melting smile, I know he finds none.
His hand that caressed my cheek a moment ago now rests at the side of my neck. I remember my dream. How that hand was wrapped around my throat and how delicious the feeling was. My chest, my neck, and my face feel like I have a fever, but the throbbing between my legs tells me I’m burning with need. I press my thighs together, while leaning against his body even more.
“Let your hair loose,” he whispers in my ear.
What a strange request, I think to myself, but with his hardness pressing against my belly, with his breath teasing my flesh, and with his hand resting almost on my behind, he can ask me anything and I’d do it.
I reach up to untie my hair. If my mom sees what I’m doing, she’ll have a coronary. Everything should be perfect in Melinda Reynolds’ book. Yet, doing this one simple act makes me feel so adventurous and wild.
I wonder if this is what falling in love feels like—a burning need that occurs when you’re close to someone. A freedom and wildness that walk hand in hand with every action and every touch.
If it is…
I shake my head to clear my thoughts from that dangerous idea as well as to let my hair down like he asked.
His eyes blaze the moment my hair falls down in soft curls over my shoulders, down to my breasts. And I realize he likes my hair.
His fingers grab a few strands of it, just like he did that day when I first saw him.
My thoughts jumble together when he, again, brings my hair to his nose. This time, he also places it against his mouth. And even though I don’t really feel his lips against my locks, I find this gesture so sweet and touching, but also arousing.
When he lets go of the pieces of my hair, his arm wraps around my back once more. I wait for him to rest his hand next to the other, at the swell of my butt, but instead, he plays with the end of my hair falling to my back. It feels relaxing and oddly tempting. I can feel every swirl and pull of his fingers, and it makes my heart flutter in my chest. Every inch of our skin touches as we move in a slow rhythm to the music. I’m lost in his eyes, but I still notice the distance he puts between us and the crowd.
How can I feel this content with a man I met just a week ago?
I feel him wrap my hair around his fist and my breath hitches when he pulls it enough to hurt. But it’s a delicious pain that reverberates through my body until it feels like a pinch against my clit, fueling my desire. My back hits a solid surface, and I look around. He’s found the perfect spot for us. Secluded and away from prying eyes. With the trees around us, we’re hidden from the party and the attendees.
Between the wall and his hard body, I feel dizzy with need.
“I want to kiss you,” Luca murmurs against my lips.
“God, yes. Please, yes,” I breathe out before I can stop myself, but I can’t feel embarrassed for my wanton pleas.
He smirks, before crushing his lips against mine.
I’ve watched hundreds of romantic movies, I’ve read thousands of romance novels, I’ve dreamed too many times to count about being kissed. Yet, nothing has prepared me for this. I knew it would feel good, but not even in my mind could I imagine it being this amazing.
Every nerve in my body focuses on that small place we’re connected. His lips against mine. Soft, strong, and needy. I wonder how people give kisses to strangers so easily. How people can kiss anyone on the lips. This feeling should be cherished, earned. The kiss is much better than just a touch of lips. As he kisses me with confident and persistent strokes, I feel like he’s branding his name onto my soul. His taste consumes my senses, placing me in a cocoon of mint, cigar, and whiskey. I’ve