I picked up my glass and downed the rest of its contents before crawling on my hands and knees over to where Damon sat. When I reached him, I sat back and whispered, “Sorry about this.” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was apologising. It was probably because he still seemed annoyed for some reason.
He reached out and took my hand in his, pulling me close so he could murmur in my ear, “Don’t be.”
“You don’t seem happy,” I ventured, still quiet enough so that only he could hear.
“I’m not.”
My stomach lurched. He didn’t want to kiss me. But why? Back in my bedroom he seemed ready to throw me down on the bed and fuck me into oblivion. Now he looked like he’d rather kiss anyone else in the world, and it was making me nervous and unsure.
“Take your time, you two,” Iggy put in sarcastically. “It’s not like we haven’t got all night or anything.”
I turned and shot my boss a dark look. He’d been the orchestrator of this scenario to a certain extent, and I wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t somehow made the bottle stop on Damon. Turning back to the man in question, I leaned closer, placing my hands on his shoulders and inhaling a deep breath. This was it.
I was about to kiss Damon Atwood.
Thirteen.
*Damon*
This wasn’t how I envisioned our first kiss playing out, not in a roomful of people, and certainly not in the middle of a fucking party where I couldn’t do all the things I’d been wanting to do to her for weeks.
The memory of her tits, full and heavy with perfect rosy nipples, was branded into my skull. The way it felt when I brushed one with the back of my hand to remove the phone from her bra, so soft, made my head numb. I felt like I’d been walking around in a constant state of arousal, which was a pain when you were stuck in an apartment with forty or so virtual strangers.
Rose had both her hands braced on my shoulders, but she only stared at me. I noticed her tremble a little. She was nervous. Fuck. My irritability at the situation couldn’t have helped matters. She thought I didn’t want to kiss her, but bloody hell I did. I just knew that once I started, there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I’d want to lose my hand under the skirt of her dress, feel her slickness.
I’d want to bury my face in her abundant, beautiful fucking cleavage until I couldn’t breathe.
She seemed frozen in place, so I pulled her hands from my shoulders and lifted her into my lap. I took control, not giving her a choice. If this was going to be our first kiss, I was going to make it count. Fuck all the people watching us. For once in my life I was going to be unselfconscious about something. I was going to take fucking charge.
She moved onto me with ease, and her dress rode up as she levelled her thighs on either side of my hips. The edges of her lacy hold up stockings were revealed and it was all I could do not to groan at the sight. I palmed her cheek, caressed it softly, and noticed her let out the tiniest gasp.
I whispered my lips across hers first, feather light, before capturing them fiercely and sinking my hand into her hair. She let out a sexy little whimper. I tugged on her hair, adjusting her head so I could kiss her more deeply. She moved on me, as though trying to climb closer, and I felt my balls tighten as I began to harden. She was so sexy in a completely oblivious way, and when I felt the heat between her legs press into me, I had to stifle a groan.
Her arms came to wrap around my neck, her tongue moving with mine as I savoured her. She tasted like champagne and sunshine. I couldn’t get enough. Her full, round chest pushed into me torturously, and I knew I had to end the kiss before I took her right there on the floor. Giving her hair one more gentle tug, I felt her shudder, like she liked it.
I fucking loved that she liked it.
Every single time she wore a ponytail to rehearsals, I’d had visions of gripping her hair in my fist as I sank into her from behind. Pulling back, I gave