Devoured - Cathryn Fox Page 0,28
polo looks amazing on you,” I say. Heat floods my body as my gaze falls to take in the way he makes the shirt look good, not the other way around. I can only assume he wore a suit this morning to help make a good impression, and I truly appreciate his attention to detail—inside the bedroom and out.
He steps up to me, slides one hand around my body and with no finesse pulls me to him. Our bodies collide, and as he inhales, filling his lungs with my scent, I shiver under his touch. “Is that right?” he asks, splaying the hand on my back, his fingers lightly brushing the swell of my backside. Ripples of sensual pleasure move through me, and my little fluttering breath gives away my arousal. His grin is knowing when he says, “You know what I think would look even better on me?”
His sexy smile rattles me even more. “What?” I ask; the brown in his eyes deepens, a telltale sign of the lust building inside him. “Me?”
He laughs. “You took the word right out of my mouth,” he answers, his voice raspy and fractured. Once again I can’t help but think he’s not as in control as he seems. I’m not sure why but it secretly thrills me when this man becomes unhinged.
I brush my thumb over his bottom lip and press my breasts into his chest. “Well, now that this mouth of yours is empty maybe we can fill it with something else.”
His cock instantly hardens against my leg, and he gives an almost resigned shake of his head. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“You mean you can’t believe I said it before you said it.” I laugh and poke his chest. “You were thinking it. Don’t even try to deny it.”
“Not trying,” he says with a cocky grin. The more time we spend together, the more playful he becomes. Before this trip, he kept that side of himself locked up tight. I guess humiliation in the past—he was dumped just before his wedding—forced him to keep his guard in place, and perhaps he doesn’t feel the need to protect himself with me after we both made it clear where we stood. I get that he’s still worried about his friendship with Cason, but I’m not a girl to kiss and tell. Heck, up until this morning, and the time he ravished my mouth at the wedding, I wasn’t even a girl who kissed, period. Damned if I haven’t been missing out, though. Then again, it’s not like I’d want another man’s lips on mine. No, and right there, that fact alone, could very well lead to a problem.
No regrets, Peyton.
I push that thought from my mind as he glances over his shoulder. His grin is mischievous, playful when he turns back to me, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth. His hips move, pressing against me, conveying all his needs. Desire twists inside me as I ache to lose myself in him a second time.
“Want to shut the door?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper that glides over my flesh and hints at things to come. Intimate things. Dirty things. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited by the prospect.
“No,” I blurt out, and he cocks his head, his brow raised, his tanned skin glistening in the rays of sun streaming in through the big windows. I lean into him, soak in his warmth. The scent of his skin, clean soap infused with testosterone, swirls around me. “Well, yeah, of course I want you to shut the door.” That brings a smile to his face. “But I’m not about to jeopardize this job.”
His demeanor changes and he steps back, putting a measure of distance between us, and I instantly miss the connection. “Right. Sorry about that.” He taps his head and winks at me. “Loss of blood there for a second.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I sidle back up to him, put my hands on his chest, loving his strong heartbeat beneath my palm. “I kind of like that I can do this to you.”
“Ah, something you like,” he says, a slow nod of his head. “That’s different.”
I run my finger along his cheek, the bristles on his late-afternoon shadow rough against my flesh. How would it feel between my legs? “Let’s hurry home. I’ll show you what else I like doing to you.”
He frowns. “Don’t we have to go to Andrew’s for dinner?”
I glance at the clock. “If we