Page 41 of Charming
“Princess?”
“Hmm?” I ask my gaze moving to and settling on his lips.
“The shower is available for you now.”
“Yeah…ummm…” I giggle. God, I giggle! I sound ridiculous but somehow I can’t shut it off. “I kind of got that given the fact you’re standing in front of me.” I giggle again.Oh, god, I’m eighteen again. I should just start popping gum and twirling my hair too.
His mouth moves infinitesimally closer to mine making me unable to focus on anything other than what that mouth can do to me. How it can make me feel. How it can make me moan and shudder. His mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me thoroughly, as if he wants to make his thoughts and intentions for the night clear. I’m right there with him, every movement of our lips against one another, every slide of our tongues, every taste, every whimper. His fingers trail down my arms and then wrap around my waist, mine wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me, kissing him harder. He presses his body against mine and I can feel every inch and curve intimately. When he pulls away, his stare is so intense; I swear he can see into my mind, my heart and my soul. I’m breathless, my chest heaving with need, want and desire. He matches me breath for breath. He moves toward me again and I know if I let him take my lips once more, I’ll be a goner. Ducking under his arm, he yells a surprised, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet.”
Quickly grabbing my clothes, I make a dash for the bathroom, but look over my shoulder at him and laugh at the look of astonishment on his face. Laughing was a mistake. In retaliation, as I reach the bathroom entrance, he drops his towel from around his waist. Gasping, I almost smack right into the wall instead of going through the door. He winks at me seductively and starts walking to me again, but somehow I manage to come to my senses and dart through the door and shut it quickly.I must be absolutely crazy.
Leaning my back against the door, and squeezing my eyes closed, I try to catch my breath. Holy hell is that one fine specimen of a man. I don’t know how I got so lucky to get his attention, but hell the man is the complete package. Jumping in the shower, I wonder if a cold shower does the same thing for women as it does for men. I elect to try. Quickly washing, I tell myself to remember that I have a plan. Shower, eat and then operation seduce Asher. Not that it’s going to be a very hard thing to do. We are both beyond ready, but the anticipation is making the blood in my veins even fierier with need.
Finishing, my deduction is that the cool water did nothing to simmer the passion running in my veins, but that’s okay. Drying my hair and applying a touch of makeup, I turn to the clothes I’ve elected to wear.
A knock comes at the door startling me, “Princess? Dinner’s here.”
“Okay. Go ahead and sit at the table, I’m coming!”
“No, sadly, you aren’t. Not yet anyway.”
Stifling a laugh, I call, “Be there in a minute.”
Hurrying, I dress in the most seductive thing I brought on vacation, quite by accident. A lace tank top, with matching lace boy shorts that have a cute ruffle on the butt. I usually wear them under my jean shorts with a top so you can’t make out the ruffle through my clothes. They’re surprisingly comfortable and I always feel kind of naughty in them. Like I have a sexy secret. Alone, they are definitely sexy. They’re a pale pink color that leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m saying a prayer of thanks that I impulsively left them in my bag when I took other lingerie items out.
Turning back to the mirror, I give myself a once over, fluff my hair, spritz on some body spray, do a quick turn checking out my ass and give myself a nod of approval. With a deep breath, I open the door and peek out into the bedroom. Asher is nowhere to be found, so I surmise he’s sitting at the table like I asked.
One barefooted step at a time, I make my way to the dining area, and when I reach the entryway, I lean against it waiting for him to notice me. He doesn’t at first; he’s busy arranging our table and the food. I grin when I see he’s had a similar idea to mine; he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. I admire his strong broad back and suppress a shudder when I imagine scratching my nails down it. I’m glad that’s all he’s wearing- less to rip off that way.
When he sits in his chair, he picks up his silverware that’s rolled into his napkin and happens to glance at the doorway. When his eyes meet mine, he freezes, and his silverware clatters to his plate. His eyes rake my body, stopping momentarily at the junction of my thighs, and again when he reaches my breasts. When his heated gaze returns to mine, he licks his lips and I barely keep myself from running right into his arms.
Slowly, purposefully, taking one step at a time, I ease myself into my chair. Usually he pulls my seat out for me, so I know I’ve really rattled him. It makes me bite my bottom lip so I don’t smile. “Does it look good?”
“What?” His voice is husky with lust and he swallows hard, his eyes appearing slightly unfocused.
“The food. Does it look good?”
“God, it looks so fucking good,” he says eyes still on me and I know he’s not talking about the food at all.
Forcing myself to lift the metal dome off of my plate, I glance at the pasta dish sitting there. “It does look good.” I grab my own silverware and unroll it. Taking a small forkful of my ziti, I place it in my mouth and groan with pleasure at the taste. It’s for show of course, but it actually does taste quite delicious. Flitting my eyes up to his, I swallow my bite. I moan just a bit for emphasis. “Oh god, it’s so good. Aren’t you going to eat it?”
He chokes, and it takes effort not to laugh. “Excuse me?”
“The pasta,” I clarify, “are you going to eat it?” His eyes are still on my lips and I swear he’s practically sweating; his brow is glistening just a little.
Reaching across the table, he whispers, “Come here.” I lean toward him and watch wide-eyed as his thumb grazes the corner of my mouth and then he brings it to his own, tongue flicking out to lick the sauce from it. “You’re right. It’s delicious.”
Sweet baby cupid in a diaper, I’ve been struck stupid by this man.
Finally, he lifts the dome from his own plate and mechanically begins eating his food. His eyes volley between his plate and my face the whole time. I make a show of eating my food. Licking when necessary, moaning occasionally, chewing slowly, all the while trying to make idle conversation about our excursion and the fish we saw today, about how fun the boat ride was and how beautiful Cabo is in general. If the constant shifting in his seat is any indication, Asher’s not really interested in the conversation at all. Sure he’s responding but it’s all robotic, his eyes watching every move I make. I don’t think he’s going to tolerate much more.
When a drop of sauce falls from my fork onto the inside of my other thumb, I lick it off without thought. I’m startled when Asher suddenly stands. “What’s wrong?”
His chest is heaving, his eyes on mine. Before I can utter another word, his hand swipes the table and each and every item crashes to the floor. My mouth falls open; my fork falls to the ground. Before I can even think about uttering one word, he’s around the table and is pulling me out of my chair. Yanking me against his body, he kisses me hard, long, and with so much passion, it’s hard to breathe.
Pulling his lips from mine, he lifts me up and sets me right onto the freaking table. “Sorry, princess, but this isn’t going to be slow. I can’t wait. I need you now.”
A sharp exhale of need escapes me, “God, yes,” I agree without any hesitation. I’m on board for this plan. Completely.
