Page 43 of Fashionista's Playbook

“No.” I giggled and shook my head. “But I’ve never had a guy, you know.”

This time his grin was more than mischievous. It was sexy, knowing, and triumphant. “Their loss, Mariposa. But I’m about to taste every bit of you.”

And he did, ducking his head and running his tongue along my sex and back up again. I gripped the stairs and fought not to buck against his face. When he found my clit and flicked his tongue across the bundle of nerves I gasped.

Nothing had ever feltthatgood. The ebb and flow of pleasure changed to a solid onslaught of sensation. I couldn’t get away from it, I didn’t want to. The flick of Travis’ tongue made my toes curl.

My gasping moans echoed through the large, quiet house. Something about the erotic nature of that noise stole what little breath I had.

But when Travis groaned against the core of me, sucking my clit between his lips—I lost my grip on reality and came crashing on the stairs, bucking against his face and crying out.

Travis rocked back on his knees, gently dropping my thigh to the stairs, and smiled—obviously pleased with himself.

There was a rustle of clothes as I held my eyes shut tight, relishing the little explosions of pleasure that skittered across me. Then the tell-tale rip of plastic and my heart pounded in eager anticipation.

His grip was strong as he cupped my bottom and lifted me off the stairs enough to slide between my thighs.

The fleeting need to move away from the stairs to the bedroom for our first time was gone as soon as he stroked the tip of his cock down my slit. I wouldn’t wait, couldn’t, not for Travis.

He slid slowly inside me, inch by delicious inch, as I gasped and trembled. He filled me, but it still wasn’t enough. Which was unbelievable. What more could I want?

“Travis…”

Urgent need bloomed in my chest, heated me, made me buck and writhe against him as he clutched me.

“Slowdown, Mariposa.” His voice cracked. “I’m not going to make it.”

“Now.” I growled and dug my fingers into his shoulders.

He gave me what I craved, moving inside me, each thrust faster than the one before. Friction built, pushing me closer tothe edge he’d already pitched me over, until the world around me exploded in erotic sensation.

****

Travis’ room was dark. The silhouette of his large form visible only by the sliver of moonlight that snaked through the blinds. I was wrapped in sheets that smelled like him, with him warm beside me. His deep, even breaths were soothing, as was the warmth of his body as I snuggled closer.

Making love to Travis was an experience I wouldn’t soon forget.

But guilt held me awake. I didn’t belong here, in his bed. I worked for him.

I wasn’t trophy wife material, and that’s what a guy like Travis deserved.

I rolled over, fluffed the pillow under my head, and tried to go to sleep.

I should go home. I might actually get some sleep in my own bed. We’d had sex. Really great sex. Nothing more, nothing less. I could go to work in the morning and be professional, as long as I didn’t start imagining a life where my relationship with Travis was more than sex.

He reached over, tugging me to him, and spooned around me. I didn’t dare let myself relax, fall asleep like this.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled against my hair, his voice heavy with sleep.

The sound of him like that was as sexy as seeing him on those stairs, between my thighs, lips swollen and wet from what he’d done to me—for me.

Having Travis as my lover was a roller coaster of emotions. With him touching me, nuzzling against my hair and the back of my neck, I could scarcely think straight.

“Nothing, just restless.” It wasn’t a lie, even if it felt like it.

“I can fix that.” His hand slid lazily down my side.

With a laugh, I smacked it away before he could slide it any lower.Thatparticular part of my body was pleasantly sore. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

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