Page 25 of Not Your Average Vixen
She parted her lips, dissolving into orgasmic bliss, as a rich, sated moan, evidence of her unabashed pleasure, carried on her breath. But before anyone could hear her wanton cries, he pressed his mouth to hers and swallowed her heated exhalations.
Her lips were the final blow. Petal soft, they beckoned him.
Kiss me and never stop.
What was this fascination? It had to be his reaction to the possibility that the only redeeming part of his life could soon become nothing but a memory.
Casting away his fears, he focused on Bridget and the visceral desire that drove him to take more and allowed him to forget. He cupped her face in his hand and deepened their kiss. Their tongues met in a sensual dance, licking, exploring, and ravenous for more. Her fingertips trailed down his jawline as if she were smoothing out his rough edges, those ragged emotions he kept hidden deep within. She hummed a honeyed, sated sound, and despite being in the midst of a bustling restaurant, the warmth of her voice wrapped them in a cocoon of perfect seclusion.
“That was…wow,” she whispered against his lips, and her raw honesty made him want to do it all over again.
Except, not here. They needed to go somewhere else, so he wouldn’t have to stifle her cries of pleasure. And he wanted to see her—all of her.
He wanted to unwrap her like a Christmas present.
Jesus! This wasn’t him. He was no romantic. But maybe that was okay. He could use a night to forget himself. A night to forget his worries. A night to be a man who wasn’t on the brink of losing everything that mattered.
Gently, he slipped his hand out of her panties, drawing his wet fingers along her thigh. She watched him closely—those trustworthy chestnut eyes awash with satisfaction. He liked having her gaze trained on his every move. And with that thought, a wicked idea formed.
Without breaking their connection, he raised his hand to his lips, moist with her arousal, and sucked the tip of his middle finger.
Now, he was the one humming his delight—sampling a taste of what was to come.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her gaze locked on his mouth.
“You got to start with dessert. It’s only right that I get a little taste,” he replied and instantly was rewarded as his one-night vixen’s eyes widened in a sensual state of awe.
She bit her lip, then gave him the hint of a naughty grin as she ran her hand up his inner thigh and palmed his thick, hard length. “I think we could arrange for you to have some dessert, too.”
He could see the glimmer of wonder in her eyes—the titillating moment of being someone else. This was new to her. Despite being beautiful, she didn’t realize her powers of seduction.
“You’ll be skipping dinner? Shall I bring you the dessert menu instead?”
At the arrival of their waiter, Bridget gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her close.
He schooled his features. “We’ve changed our plans. We’ll be ordering room service tonight.”
Without missing a beat, he covertly slid her hand off his cock and laced their fingers together.
“We have?” she questioned.
He could see the wheels turning in her head. She’d played the vixen in public. But did she have it in her to take it up a notch?
His pulse raced.
Why the hell was he so determined for her to say yes?
He could have any woman he wanted. This place was crawling with singles on the lookout to hook up. But he only wanted her—this striking enigma.
He rubbed slow circles with his thumb on the back of her wrist. “Room service would be a better choice for us tonight.”
A few tendrils of her dark hair had fallen forward, framing her face and kissing the apples of her cheeks. She tucked the locks behind her ear, still turning over the proposition. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was a lion ready to pounce, and the anticipation was nearly unbearable.
Every cell in his body wanted her.
She met his gaze as her soulful dark eyes seared into him with the glimmer of a newfound confidence.
Now, it was his vixen schooling her features for the waiter. “I agree. This night definitely calls for room service.”
