Page 44 of Savage in the Sweets
This isn’t a kiss between two rivals. This is pure primal passion that electrifies the senses.
When we finally break, he licks his lips as he looks down at me.
“You taste like candy.” He chuckles lightly.
“It’s the lip gloss.” I breathe him in deeply, relishing the deep manly musk barely hidden by his cologne. “No sugar added. I promise.”
He leans down, lifts me, and asks, “Where we going, Candy Queen?”
It feels so good to be held by him, pressed against his well-defined chest, that I damn near melt.
“I’m not going to sully my bed with you, so over to the couch.”
“Sully your bed with me?”
“You being sexy doesn’t make you any less of the asshole you’ve proven yourself to be.”
He brings me over to my white leather couch, setting me down and wasting no time. His hand cups the back of my head, and I’m pulled in for another kiss.
In the blink of an eye, all cylinders are firing, pushing me to rush what I had wanted to go slow. One of my hands finds his tousled hair; the other lands on his chest, kneading his tight muscles.
I hate how perfect he is. How a man who’s caused me such distress can be so utterly lust-provoking.
“Doesn’t it feel wrong diving your tongue into enemy territory?” I tease after a long, passionate kiss.
His breathing is a ragged caress against my neck, escalating my desire for him.
His hand finds my thigh, roughly parting it from the other. “I imagine that’s part of the attraction.”
He tilts me back against the armrest, positioning my legs, so they’re circling his waist as he leans over me.
His lips find my neck, placing feather-soft kisses down the column of my throat, and without even realizing it, Colin works some kind of magic, and the buttons of my dress are completely undone.
“Someone’s had a lot of practice,” I say as I grab the hem of his shirt, drawing it upward and off of his body.
Some part of me hoped there’d be a physical imperfection, some flaw that I hadn’t seen when we were at the beach.
But he’s just as stunning as he was then, only this time, I get to touch him.
After a few suave maneuvers, he has my dress off, leaving me in a pair of candy panties I made for the occasion.
Luckily, the couch is leather and will be easy to clean.
He hikes a brow. “You promised you’d be zero calories.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No. Most definitely not.”
“Then get to work.”
“He resumes where he left off, his lips approaching my bare breasts. There’s nothing sloppy about his form, and by the feel of it, he knows exactly what to do to extract peak pleasure from a woman.
It’s not fair that this man is not only physically perfect but sexually adept when he’s such a complete jerk.
He brings a hand to my breast, toying with my erect nipple and a low groan escapes my throat.
I feel myself grow wet, and it makes me snort when I realize the sticky mess my candy panties are going to make.
