Page 143 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

“You’re beautiful,” he said, the words gentle, as was his hold, but there was something so possessive about it. Something that spoke of his strength, and it sent a flood of pleasure radiating out from between her thighs.

She let her head fall back against the wall, licking her lips, her breath unsteady. She was so aroused she was in pain. This was more than her dreams. Of course it was. Because he was actually touching her. He was right there, rock-solid wall of hot, hard man. He was glorious. Perfect.

Beautiful, but not in a shiny, polished way. Not in that easy, handsome way that Michael was. Or in the way any man she’d ever known was.

No. He was like the mountains. Unyielding, and wild.

And she wanted to be overtaken by it. By him.

“I don’t... I’m not quite sure what to do.” She looked up from beneath her lashes, and she watched as his jaw went granite.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have admitted to being so inexperienced. But it was the truth. Either he would be compelled by it or not. She had been told before, by the sewing circle at the church, that men were ravenous creatures seeking to devour the innocent.

She was an innocent. And she was ready to be devoured, so she had to hope that Zane Fox was as debaucherous a character as he had been made out to be.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice rough. Desperate.

Had she made him desperate?

“For you to show me. To show me what I want. Show me what you want. I want you to... I want you to be in charge.”

A light sparked in his eye. “I see.” And then his lips curved into a smile. “That’s a game you like?”

She nodded. She was unwilling to verbalize the fact that she had never actually played it before. Either he realized or he didn’t. Maybe he assumed she was being coy. And that was just fine by her. If it got her what she wanted, if it made him take the lead, she was happy with it. She just wasn’t going to be playing the part of vixen because she didn’t know how to do that.

Keeping the hand on her throat, he released his hold on her wrists with his other hand, and let it drift down to her curves, down her hip, beneath her dress and up to her hip. He pushed his hand beneath her white cotton panties and gripped her ass, hard. Then he moved it, and gave her a smack. It was slightly hindered by the wall, but it left a sting that was satisfying.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Well, today is turning out a little different than I thought it would. I didn’t think that I would be getting baked bread.” He moved his hand around to the front of her underwear, and pushed his fingers down beneath the fabric, stroking her slick flesh. She cried out. “And I definitely didn’t think I’d be getting fresh-baked cookies.”

She was trembling, his rough, wicked fingers playing havoc over her heated flesh as she began to rock her hips in time with his strokes. “Naughty girl.”

It turned her on, the roughness in his voice. His obvious pleasure in her wickedness. She had been good all of her life, so having him, this man who was so obviously bad, dangerous, tell her she was naughty lit her up from the inside out.

He pushed a finger inside of her and she let her head fall back, gasped as he worked her, moving his thumb in a determined circle at the sensitized bud there, as he penetrated her slowly, watching her face as he did.

She found herself unable to look away from him.

She waited for the shame. For shame that surpassed pleasure, because she was letting a man touch her intimately, and she had never done such a thing before.

But the shame didn’t come. Only excitement.

It was so much more like her fantasies than she’d thought it could be. She was wild here. Full of need. She wasn’t a fool.

She had known herself.

He kept on pleasuring her, as he undid the buttons on her dress and let it fall open, as he slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall down to the ground.

He looked at the simple bra, and she was shocked by the heat that she saw there in his eyes.

She wasn’t dressed to seduce anyone. And yet she could see that he was seduced.

He unhooked her bra, let it fall free, and she wasn’t ashamed. Still.

“Look at those. Damn. You are pretty.”

He lowered his head, and sucked one nipple into his mouth. She arched her back off the wall, pleasure flooding her. He moved his hand in rhythm with his tongue, his lips, and she felt desire building inside of her. Felt the promise of an orgasm beginning to bloom.

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