Page 124 of The Price of Scandal
Gently, he lowered himself over me and pressed a soft, silky kiss to my mouth.
The shrubs parted, and Brutus grumbled his way across the patio to the grill.
“Your sous chef is demanding your attention,” I said, stroking my hand over his jaw.
“How are you?” he asked, brushing my hair off my forehead. “Are you tired?”
I thought about it. “Yes. But in a good way. Not an edge-of-physical exhaustion way,” I promised.
“A lot happened today,” he reminded me.
I could feel the nudge of his hard-on against my leg. “I have a feeling there’s more to come.”
He removed his sunglasses and pushed mine up so we were eye to eye.
It was a long, loaded look.
“You terrify me,” he admitted finally.
“What are you talking about?” I scoffed.
“You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone.”
He was so serious, so broody.
“There’s more to a relationship than necessity, Price.”
“How would you know? It’s been two years since you’ve dated someone.”
A nugget from his dossier on me, I supposed. I wished I had one on him. I wondered if Jane did. “How long has it been since you’ve dated someone monogamously for longer than a month?”
He pressed his crotch into my hand and toyed with the string of my top. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
I reached between us and cupped his shaft. He hissed in a breath at the contact. “Would you rather be needed or wanted?”
“I’d rather be whatever keeps me near you,” he confessed. “And that also scares the daylights out of me.”
I’d confessed a fear to him today, and he was returning the favor. A vulnerability for a vulnerability.
Brutus gave a short warning rumble. Flames were rising from the grill.
“I like my burgers medium rare, not meteorite.”
* * *
The second roundof burgers were perfection, and we managed to squeeze in a quick swim before Derek insisted on cleaning up. I returned to my lounger for a few more minutes of relaxation. The lowering sun baked me into a blissful oblivion. I was almost asleep when I felt the tug at my bikini cup.
“Mmm,” I murmured as a warm mouth closed around the tip.
I opened one eye and watched Derek’s cheeks hollow. Impatiently, he brushed the other cup down and played his fingers over that nipple.
It felt so good. So decadent. The late sun. The steady thrum of the surf. The pull of Derek’s mouth on me.
His erection was barely contained by his swim trunks.
“Someone might see us,” I chastised, my voice breathy.
“What a pity.”
