Page 129 of Dagger in the Sea

“You’re pouting.”

“I am not.”

She tilted her head. “Men are such divas. And, by the way, you take forever to get ready.”

“I do not.”

“Sometimes, yes, you do.“ She got in between me and the mirror and holding my gaze, she smoothed her hands down my shoulders, down my chest, sending zings of heat through my flesh, the thin gold bracelets on her wrist clinking delicately. “But it’s worth the wait.”

My balls tightened at her words, at the spicy warm scent of her perfume enveloping us. Goddammit, I was at her mercy. She could do anything she wanted to me at this very second, and I’d let her.

I’d fucking love it.

“Look at you, white linen on sun-tanned skin,” she murmured.

“Hardly a tan.”

“Golden.” Her gaze tripped south. “Dark indigo jeans. Very nice.” My muscles coiled at her long, slow, appreciative attention, at the low, intimate tone of her voice. It was almost unbearable.

“Are you admiring the goods or finding something lacking, sweetheart?”

“Do you own a pair of faded jeans? Or only these crisp, dark ones?” she asked, a hand on my thigh.

“I don’t do faded or distressed. Ever.”

She laughed. “I’ll have to buy you a pair. They’d look amazing on you.” Her fingers went to the buttons at my shirt. She unbuttoned the second, the third. The fourth.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Have you changed your mind about going out? Are we going for another round?”

Her eyebrows raised. “Your look needs styling. You need a more relaxed, Mediterranean feel about you.” She opened the shirt revealing more of my chest. “All that’s missing is a long gold chain and a medallion.” She drew her nails down my torso.

“Adri,” my voice warned.

“I’m teasing.” She laughed, her fingers circling, burning through my skin. “That was the seventies.” She buttoned the fourth button, leaving open the top three, her eyes holding mine, daring me to protest, her tongue darting over her scarlet lips. Who knew being dressed could be just as much a turn on as getting undressed?

“There.” Her tongue lashed at my chest, and warmth shot through my veins. “That’s indecent enough for you. Otherwise you’d be overwhelming.” Her fingers brushed my jaw. “I like that you didn’t shave today.”

Indecent. Overwhelming.My heart pumped liters of flammable lust and desire through my veins at an insane speed. I put a hand over those fingers, crushing them in mine.

“Scruff.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

I rubbed her hand against my face and her lips parted. “The stubble, we call it scruff.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed and nipped at her flesh.

“Hmm. Is that unusual for you as well, not shaving every day and having this…scruff?” She growled out the word.

I grinned, brushing my nose with hers, rubbing my jaw against her cheek. “Yes. I’ll show you how good scruff can be between your thighs tonight. How does that sound?”

Her face reddened. “You know, I like that you have specific likes and dislikes.”

“It comes with age, baby.”

“Maybe. But it shows your confidence in your tastes and preferences, and I like that.”

“Do you?”

“Very much. It’s distinctive.” She stepped back from me, and I physically felt the absence of her warmth. My slackened muscles tightened once again.

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