One Summer At The Beach: Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire / Not-So-Perfect Princess / Wedding at Pelican Beach. Melissa McCloneЧитать онлайн книгу.
against his lips, to have his tongue lick her rim?
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. The way she was thinking! And the worst of it was she was certain he knew. Possibly even thinking the same. Because his attention was fixed on her when she took the glass from him and sipped.
He waited until she’d placed her glass back on the table before leaning closer to her, speaking with the world’s most tempting voice.
‘You know what I think, Sienna?’
‘What?’
‘I think you should dance with me.’
A flicker of excitement ran from the nape of her neck all the way down her spine, through her legs and to her toes. She wriggled them in her sandals. ‘OK.’
They stood. Julia and Brooke were somewhere up the front, playing up to Tim’s ‘glam lead singer’ act. Sienna stopped in the middle of the crowd, wanting to disappear into it. Not wanting to feel any more self-conscious than she already was. Fully aware that Tim and the other band members were probably watching. That Brooke and Julia would be giving the thumbs-up behind Rhys’ back. She didn’t want the distraction or the discomfort.
Within three seconds she wouldn’t have cared if there were a film crew beside her broadcasting the action live to twenty million viewers. She’d totally lost awareness of all others, of their surroundings. She lost all sense of everything except Rhys. The thrill rippled through her—her awareness of him almost a tangible entity. They took advantage of the crowd on the floor to stand close. He smiled and she found herself smiling back, just like that. So easy. The music wasn’t too heavy, he moved, she followed. Fingers brushed. She nearly jumped, the electricity practically sparking. She glanced at her hand. Quickly looked to gauge his reaction—had he felt that current? He was watching her face, then looked to her hand. With slow deliberation he reached out and took it in his, his grip firming at her tremble.
If she felt this on edge with just one small touch, how on earth would anything more feel? All she knew was that she wanted that more—with a biting need, almost desperation. Desire both ferocious and foreign.
Neither of them was smiling any more. They moved closer as the floor became more crowded. He didn’t take his eyes off her. Shadows fought with emerald light. His hold on her hand tightened.
‘I know this is really forward. And I know I don’t really know you. And feel free to say no, but…’
‘But what?’
He looked straight into her eyes with a wry turn-up of his mouth. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’
Sienna stopped moving. Stood stock-still in the middle of the dance floor while a hundred others grooved close around her. Her initial reaction was relief—that she hadn’t been dreaming, that the attraction wasn’t all one-sided. The relief soon gave way to electric excitement. She provoked it further, confidence surging through her. ‘Well, that’s good, because I intend to kiss you right back.’
He’d stopped dancing too. Abandoned the pretence of caring about the music. Green eyes, not slate, burned into her. ‘That’s good.’
He stepped nearer. Her body screamed for the touch of his. But it was still out of range—the millimetres feeling like miles. Yet there was almost reluctance between them. A tacit agreement to draw it out, to savour the moment that they’d both been seeking since first seeing each other. She sensed it in him, the deliberate decision to take time to truly appreciate each moment.
Anticipation immobilised her. As much as she wanted to move, it was he who would have to take that final step.
He did. His hand came up, traced her cheek and jaw with a light finger. She quelled the tremor inside. Her lips were tingling. She just had to lick them, had to.
‘No,’ he muttered. ‘Let me.’
He bent to her. Very gently touched the tip of his tongue to the full centre of her lower lip.
Sensation engulfed her. This was crazy. But the fire ripping through her was real.
His hands, gentle, went to frame her chin.
‘Better?’
‘No.’ She tried to hide the shaking, not wanting to admit to the extremity of her reaction.
‘Still thirsty?’
Desperately so. She managed a minute nod. Her chin tilted up to meet him, her neck arched to its full length.
His hand slid around it so his fingers tangled into her hair at the back. How she wanted that mouth—that beautiful mouth…
He touched her again. Brushed his lips over hers a couple of times. Such soft teasing that tore at her self-control. She reached up and mirrored his action, threading her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head, pulling him down to her.
They stood completely still in the mass of movement. Unable even to sway in time, concentrating wholly on each other, on the fragile softness that would shatter if their passion was unleashed. This wasn’t the place for it to be unleashed. Yet she knew it was impossible to hold back.
A moment of fantasy melded with reality. Just this once.
He lowered his head as she lifted her chin. They met at the middle, lips catching and clinging. Mouths opening so tongues could taste—deep and delicious.
He kissed his way down the length of her neck, and back up to her ear. ‘You are quite the most beautiful thing.’ He pulled back to look at her, his gaze heavy and gleaming.
She ensured her lips curved upwards but dropped her lashes so he wouldn’t see the pain she knew her eyes would have reflected. Beautiful? Not entirely.
She tugged on his hair, directing him back to her mouth. Wanting the words to end and only the feeling to remain. Not wanting compliments or pretty phrases or promises to falsely gild this moment. Because that was all it was—one moment, but one of absolute bliss. The kind of moment she’d wanted all her adult life and one she wanted to extend. She wanted to make the most of the magic in the night. She melted into him in a way she’d never do at home. But she wasn’t at home. She wasn’t with anyone she knew.
The sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on was holding her and kissing her as if she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. There was no one who knew to tell him otherwise. She’d keep up this pretence as long as she possibly could.
Their bodies collided as passion rose. Initial restraint fast fading as they recognised their needs matched.
More.
At the first touch of his fingers on her bare back, her body shook—the electric charge bolting through her system again. He jerked his head back, his startled green eyes reading hers. She registered the same aftershock in them. He opened his mouth to speak but she stretched forward, reaching right up on tiptoe to prevent him. Not wanting to name it, just wanting to experience it.
Again.
His fingers traversed, burning fire as they went. The need to have them touch her all over nearly crippled her. Instead she spread fingers and palms across his shoulders. Wanting to experience the feel of him as much as the way he made her feel.
So this was what Cinderella must have felt like. To have met her Prince Charming, to be dancing, but knowing it was a fantasy that couldn’t last past the midnight hour.
Make the most of it.
Time constraint made her bolder. She basked in his openly hungry gaze. He wanted her and she wanted nothing but that mouth roving over every inch of her.
No. Not every inch. She forced the miserable thought back, stepped closer into his embrace. Determined to take what she wanted while she could. And he met her, sensed her availability without censure, simply giving her what she asked for and more.
She’d never been so forward in all her life. And she loved it. It wasn’t really the kind of kiss that should be in public at all. She was locked in his arms, length to