Page 15 of A Touch Wicked
Heshouldhave cared.
He didn't.
He only wanted to undress her, to drive into her. Over and over again, until he forgot about dreams and drowning and everything else.
Until he forgot even himself.
When James shut the door, she looked up and smiled a sinner’s smile. It made him instantly hard.
“Bonsoir,” Selene murmured. Her dark eyes were mischievous behind her mask. “Would you like some wine?”
James didn’t answer. He was beyond speaking as he approached her, only needing to touch her, stroke her, disrobe her.
She shivered as he neared, and he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She wanted him just as badly.
When he took the glass of wine from her to set back on the table, their fingers brushed. That one touch was all it took.
Their lips crashed together and their kiss was hard, devouring. It was a brush of tongues, the harsh, yet pleasurable scratch of teeth. They grasped at each other with trembling hands, unfastening clothes as they reintroduced their bodies. Became acquainted once more with the taste and feel of each other.
Selene had him naked as quickly as before, and James’s cock jutted up between them, hard and ready.
James reached for the buttons at the back of Selene’s dress, fingers fumbling.
He let out a curse. “Don’t tell me you wore this on purpose. Are youtryingto drive me mad?”
Her chuckle was low in his ear. “A few extra moments. You poor thing.”
He slid his tongue across her collarbone and whispered, “A few moments is the difference between these buttons and my mouth between your thighs, licking your sweet cunny.”
“Rip it off.” She sounded urgent now. “Right up the back. Rip. It.Off.”
That drew laughter from James. She was full of surprises, his dream lover. “As my lady commands.”
The rip of fabric seemed to echo in the quiet room. Buttons scattered across the floor. The dress fell, pooling around Selene’s feet.
James murmured something incoherent at the sight of her. It might have beenbeautiful. It might have beenexquisite. It might have been any combination of words that failed to properly articulate how the firelight caressed her skin. How she stood there without an ounce of shyness as he worshipped her with his eyes, almost hesitant to touch her.
But he did; he couldn’t help it. His fingertips drifted down her arm, crossing to her breast, where his thumb brushed her nipple.
The sound she made — one of such helpless need — almost brought James to his knees.
He pulled Selene in close, until their skin touched. It took every ounce of control not to lift her into his arms and enter her right then. But he had to know. He had to know she thought of him the last seven days, too. If she had imagined his features on other men, his voice, his smile, the way he had projected her onto Miss Dumont.
Poor Miss Dumont, who would be horrified to know her employer had pictured her naked, speaking naughty French words in Selene’s voice.
“Did you think of me at all?” he murmured, tracing the shell of her ear with his lips. “You certainly crossed my mind once or twice.”
“Only once or twice?”
A great deal more.“You?”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Once or twice.”
“Was it during the day or night?”
When she didn’t answer, he slid his fingertips down her spine as if he could coax the answer out of her. She shuddered.
“Night.” Selene sighed when he picked her up and set her down on the bed, the sheets warm from the fire. “Always night.”
