Page 2 of Jaz
The slight, rounded softness of her belly.
The flare of her hips inside her skirt.
The strong legs encased in knee-high platform boots … God, what else did she have on? Was there a thong under the leather? Satin? Lace?
“Jaz?”
His dick was about to push itself out of his jeans. His hands fisted at his sides and he pressed himself hard against the door at his back. He closed his eyes, tried to think of something beyond her half-naked form a few feet in front of him. He needed to get himself under control, but now that he was there, in private with her, all he could think about was …
“Jaz? Are you all right?”
She’d stepped closer. He hadn’t heard her move, couldn’t hear anything but the echo of her voice inside his head.
He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, but it didn’t do any good. He wouldn’t be able to think or function as a normal person until he sated the lust thrumming through him. She smelled of flowers, of spice, of sweet innocence and sins.
“Jaz?”
She was even closer now, and her hand … Fuckin’-A, her hand was on his arm. It was too much. He opened his eyes a split second before he hauled her into his body, lifting her off the floor. He took her shocked mouth with his tongue.
She felt incredible against him. She was a big girl, but damn, he loved it. So. Fucking. Much. He was all hard-muscle, strong. She was all soft woman when she melted. And, man, did she ever melt.
Her tongue met his, tangled, dueled, tugged and finally sucked until he groaned and shifted her. One large hand gripped her ass. The other fisted in her hair to hold her head steady. She wrapped her legs around his hips and wiggled her heat against his denim-covered dick. He could have come right then had her hair not distracted him by coming off in his palm.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he all but dropped her. Again, she’d shocked him by not being what she appeared to be on the outside.
“A wig?” Her mouth, red and swollen from their kiss, and when she licked her lips … He had to rein in his lust. He had to get a grip. At least long enough for her to explain.
“Yes.”
“Take the pins out of your hair. Let me see what it looks like.”
She made a push at his shoulders, but he wasn’t about to give. “Put me down.”
“I had you secure when we were kissing, I can keep hold of you while you take your hair down.” They stared each other down. He dared her to deny him. Her outward appearance wasn’t altogether truthful, yet his need hadn’t diminished. He still planned to have her. “I’m not gonna drop you,” he offered in a gentler tone.
He tossed the black wig over to one of the tables and angled his arm along her back, giving her more steady support. For added measure, she tightened her legs at his hips. How many nights had he thought of her like this, with her legs wrapped around his body, clad in those boots?
She lifted her arms. For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off the way the move raised her breasts a scant few inches. The shadowed V between them tempted his tongue to slide down and taste her skin, but that would have to wait. One by one, the pins dropped from her fingers. Blonde curls.
Fuck.
She shook it out and finally leveled her gaze at him. Innocent. That was the first word that came to mind looking at her up close. Blonde hair. Green eyes.
Jaz growled and tightened his hold.
“Are you disappointed?”
Her voice was a whisper and her breath fanned his face. Disappointed? As if. He hadn’t thought it possible to be more turned on by her, but now … Damn. His dick was going to murder him if it didn’t get to slide up between her thighs and fuck until it hurt.
“No.”
“Mad?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Horny.”
