She managed one quick grunt, clenched her hand into a fist against his chest and opened her mouth to protest. And that one minor lapse in judgment was all the invitation he needed.
He slid his tongue along her lips, dipped into her mouth to take his fill. She was wet and warm and tasted faintly of good French champagne. The rigid line of her shoulders and the tension in her muscles screamed for him to back off, but the soft moan that rumbled from her chest as he deepened the kiss was a clear take-me-now sign only an idiot could miss.
God, he could lose himself in her right here, take things to a whole other level and never look back. If he let himself, he could easily forget everything going on around them and give her exactly what they both wanted, right now.
She had a way of doing that, of making him forget all lucid thought. She’d done that in Italy, and she was about to do it again. Knowing it, realizing it was the only thing that made him loosen his grip and finally let her go.
He braced himself for the slap of her hand. Knew he’d pissed her off. But hell if he cared. It had been worth it. She had been worth it. If they weren’t standing in the middle of the dance floor, he’d do it all over again.
She ran that delectable tongue along her lips and leveled him with an austere look. “Why don’t you just lift your leg and pee on me?”
Laughter pushed up his throat. The woman was a grade-A piece of work. “I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have been as much fun.” He shook his head. “You know, one day that mouth of yours is going to get you into some serious trouble.”
“Hmm.” Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips, the suggestive movement sending the blood roaring to his groin. “It already has.”
She clasped his nape and yanked his mouth back down to hers, tangling her tongue with his in a way that made every one of his senses explode.
Rafe wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulled her tight against his hips and thanked the Lord above for the skimpy dress that left her skin silky and smooth beneath his palms. He wanted to feel her bare breasts against his chest, have her legs wrap around his waist as he drove into her. Wanted to do the things to her body her tongue was doing to his mouth.
Lisa broke the kiss long before he was ready and dropped to the soles of her feet. “Don’t do that again.” Without a backward glance, she disappeared into the crowd.
Mary, mother of God. He ran his hand over his mouth, could still taste her on his tongue, smell her on his skin. There was no way he was waiting. He was gonna have her. To night. As soon as this damn party was over. He didn’t care if it was in the cab on the way home or against the side of the building outside. One way or the other, she was his. And this time he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Lisa squared her shoulders and shook back her hair. Probably not the wisest thing she’d ever done, but there was no sense dwelling on it now.
But oh, God, the man could kiss. Her insides were still molten from the heat of his mouth. And what a mouth, too. Strong, wet, demanding and supple. Practically on fire. So much more than she remembered from their brief interlude in Italy. It was a good thing they were surrounded by a roomful of people, because if they hadn’t been, she was pretty sure she would have knocked his legs out from under him, straddled his sexy body and found something else for that smoldering mouth of his to do to her.
She zeroed in on Landau across the room as she wove through the crowd. She needed to get Sullivan out of her head, out of her system in general, so she could focus, although it was damn hard to do, considering every muscle in her body was quivering from his touch. Wiping a damp hand down her hip, she gave herself a mental shake. And told herself she’d fantasize about stripping him naked later.
As she got closer, memories flickered through her mind, and her gaze narrowed. She’d met Alan Landau before, she was almost sure of it.