Tales of Darkness & Sin - Pepper Winters Page 0,204
“No, Lace. It just means I get to fuck you tomorrow as well.” Pressing his forehead against mine, he growled, “Now get on the bed. I’m hungry to find out just what those useless pieces of lace are hiding.”
I tottered on my tiptoes as he guided me the short distance to the mattress. Every inch I travelled, nerves thickened my blood. “Wait—um, don’t you have something important tomorrow? Are you working?”
Working?
He fights for a living.
His lips twisted into a coy grin. “Yes, I am working tomorrow.” He shrugged. “I’ve fought on worse circumstances. Besides, nothing a can of Red Bull won’t fix.”
His head lowered, his teeth nipping at my throat. “Fuck, I’ve been hard since I saw that asshole talking to you. I’m in serious pain, Lace. I’m looking to you to save me.”
Save him?
Why did I get the feeling he hid so much behind his bottomless blue eyes? So much unsaid—to anyone?
His tongue licked where his teeth had bit, sending a wash of sensitivity to my core. I swallowed, hating the power his voice had over me, but loving it, too. My insides turned into a billowing volcano, erupting with steam and washes of hot lava.
“What do you want me to do?”
He shuddered, pulling me close. “Whatever you want to do to me.”
The innuendoes in that one sentence sent the room rippling with sexual tension. I wasn’t equipped to play these games.
He pulled back, lips parting. The damn robe spread even further, not just between his legs but his torso, too—showing a very well defined chest with splatterings of dark hair and muscles etched in shadow.
My heart stuttered. I should run. I should stay. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to jump him.
His fingers whispered across my cheek, drugging me better than any other substance. “I want to own every inch of you.”
His mouth crashed against mine.
My God, what’s happening to me?
My lips swelled beneath his, aching to be devoured. His tongue pressed hard and fast, massaging with slippery heat. Gone was the taste of watermelon, replaced with pure lust.
I melted in his arms, giving in completely. I wanted him naked. I wanted to be naked. I wanted to revel in being naughty just once.
Grabbing his gaping dressing gown, I panted, “Fuck me, Cas Smith. Throw me on the bed and—”
The door knocked, dispersing the magic weaving between us, slamming me back to reality.
CHAPTER FOUR
I LOCKED MYSELF in the bathroom.
A mirror image of my hotel room, the space was completely untouched save for the body wash bottle left on the rim of the over bath shower.
Cas chuckled through the door. “If you’re running from me, you know you can’t hide—especially after saying ‘fuck me, Cas’.”
Why do I let him speak to me like that?
And why do I secretly love it?
I panted, grateful for some space before I combusted. Every inch of me burned. “I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered under my breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Oh, God. I looked like I’d been kissed within an inch of sanity—my expression was completely glazed with lust.
Saff, you look demented.
And wild.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I wished I still wore the makeup the movie producers had put on me. The fine micro minerals that made my cheekbones look like sculptured blades, the soft as silk foundation that made my skin glow like honey, and the pouty pink lipstick that made me look as if I’d been adored by some sexy prince.
I must’ve scrubbed up pretty well because the director couldn’t take his eyes off me. In his mid-thirties, Felix Carlton was said to be the next Spielberg, and the fact they’d been able to secure him for a romantic suspense was the best thing that could’ve happened for the production.
“You’re Saffron?” he’d asked, letting himself in, unannounced, to the changing room I shared with three other prospective actresses. We’d been shortlisted from the hundred or so interviews that morning.
I stood, dressed in the aquamarine ball gown my character wore in the final scene when her lover catches her cheating on him with one of her yoga client’s husbands.
Felix Carlton was one word…dashing. Straight from a Jane Austen period drama, he wore pleated grey trousers, a white shirt with no tie, and a shiny grey waistcoat. He even had a handkerchief peeking from his shirt pocket.
His dark hair was cut into a modern style with short back and sides with the strands longer on top to flop gallantly over his forehead. His face was kind, fierce, dominating, and