I might have been broiling where I stood, desperate to feel those strong, capable hands all over my body. But I didn’t say it. I wouldn’t tell him that.
His gaze was intense, a thing alive, a palpable touch. And his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse with desire. “I don’t want to talk… at all.” With the free hand that was not currently clasped around my wrist, he reached up and ran his thumb along my jaw. Then hooked that hand around the back of my neck and gently tugged, pulling my head to his.
Firm lips on mine—fire and smoke, whiskey-flavored, insistent. He had my lips parted in moments, his tongue pushing into my mouth, tasting me, taking me.
And with a startled whimper, I went along for the ride. That kiss crackled down my neck, spine and straight to my center where smoldering embers erupted into flame. My breasts ached for his touch and gooseflesh rippled over my skin.
From just a kiss, he could do this to me. I had to admit, no other guy had ever achieved that so quickly. Either he’d earned a secret PhD in kissing somewhere, or there was something about him and me and our coming together. A crackle and spark. A smoldering energy that had always been there between us and now was finally striking sparks.
Maybe it was like a chemical reaction that bubbled and smoked the moment two inert substances came in contact. We were like ammonia and hydrochloric acid—two reactants flaming to smoking heat the moment they came together.
He only pulled his lips away to speak. His breath and mine were coming fast, the warm and humid puffs of air mingling, thickening the air between us. It was a wonder he could form the words. “I want to taste you everywhere.”
His voice was urgent, full of need, full of heat and longing. With a loud clack, he slapped the cover closed over the piano keys. A shove of his leg scooted the piano bench out of the way. Then, without a barrier between us, he pulled me flush against him.
“You’ve been drinking…” I mumbled against his lips where they were fixed to my own.
“But you haven’t. And I know what I’ve been wanting for a whole lot longer than just tonight. This is no sudden impulse out of the blue. What do you taste like?”
I gulped and everything inside me plummeted, sucked toward the ground, the world turning slightly. As if I were also suddenly drunk—intoxicated by his persistent mouth and lips. They were now enveloping my very willing and tingling earlobe.
Holy shnikes. Like… before I even realized what I was doing, my arms were locked around his neck, holding him to me. Like he was a life raft, and I was clinging on for dear life instead of for his near-perfect foreplay. This man could kiss the sizzle from a pan of frying bacon.
And he was serving me up just the way he wanted me.
And I was completely okay with that as I let the current of this river snatch me up and carry it away wherever it may take me. He wanted to taste me? I wanted to be tasted by him. Perfect.
His lips slipped down the side of my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, and his hands slid down my back to rest on my ass. He had to bend slightly to do this. Lucas was tall, and I was on the shorter side of average. Maybe I should have kept the piano bench in place after all and used it for a booster seat.
He seemed to have a similar idea when he decidedly adjusted his grip and hitched me up against him. Without thinking, I locked my legs around his slender hips, the handkerchief hem of my dress bunching up. And our mouths were locked together in a fierce battle of the tongues once more. He let out a soft growl, and I released a tiny sigh in answer.
I was on fire and hoping we’d soon be repairing to his bedroom to quench it.
But apparently he didn’t even want to go that far. Instead, he hitched me higher and slid me onto the top of his grand piano. The silky material of my dress eased effortlessly along the glossy black top of the instrument and my feet dangled over the front. I flicked my toes to kick off my heels.
Sex on a piano. “How Pretty Woman of you,” I whispered, almost shivering from the crazy arousing