All of that receded behind the avalanche of more immediate signals—the lingering taste of champagne on his tongue, the subtle notes of aftershave applied hours ago against skin that was warm with the musk of his own personal scent. The lightest scuff on his chin where his five o’clock stubble was coming in. The seductive play of his fingertips against her neck, masterful as a pianist teasing a love song from his keys.
A moan of need left her. She flowed into him, arms lifting to twine around his neck.
His arm twitched and there was a delicate ping and shatter of crystal against tile.
He broke their kiss and they both looked down at the glass she’d dropped.
In the next second, his arms slid around her. He lifted her off her feet and pivoted her out of the broken shards. As he set her back down, his mouth captured hers again, eclipsing all but the heavenly feel of him firmly surrounding her. Strong, restless hands slid under the back of her jacket, pressing her closer. He angled his head to kiss her deeper. She tightened her arms around his neck to arch herself into the bow of his towering frame.
All she knew was the erratic pulse in her ears, the sear of sexual heat in her blood, the edgy hunger that wanted todevourhim. She slid her hands into his hair and lightly scraped her nails against his scalp.
The sound he made was regressive and thrilling. In a powerful move, he swept her up into the cradle of his arms. His gaze tracked over her with possessive satisfaction before coming back to meet hers, flashing with demand.
She was still trying to catch her breath. A fine tremble weakened her muscles. She suddenly had a new appreciation for how powerful he was. How unknown. Nerves accosted her again. Apprehension paired with a thrill of excitement.
“Say yes,” he commanded.
Oddly, his stern demand was the reassurance she needed. He wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want. But she did want. Her desire for him was profound.
Holding his intent stare, she toed off one shoe, letting it thud to the floor. Then the other. Her sister would kill her for treating them so poorly, but the way his nostrils flared was worth it.
“Quit being a brat.”
She curled her arms around his neck and pressed her smile into his throat, then licked the salty skin near his Adam’s apple. “Sí. Take me to your bed, Joaquin.”
He hitched her a little higher and carried her into the bedroom where he set her on her feet. “You’re too short now,” he grumbled.
She moved to kneel on the edge of the bed. “Better?”
“Much.” He aligned himself against her and they kissed again, brushing each other’s jackets away. “I could pet you for days in this,” he said of her cashmere sweater, hands skimming deliciously over her shoulders and back and rib cage and breasts.
For a long time, that was all he did. He petted and kissed her until she was leaning off the edge of the mattress, trying to get closer to him. Seeking the ridge of flesh that she wanted to feel in the cradle of her thighs.
“Wait here.” He steadied her before he walked into the bathroom.
She sat back on her heels, trying to blink herself out of the fog of arousal and the sudden denial of his touch. It could have been a moment to catch her bearings and rethink this, but he was already coming back.
He threw a strip of condoms onto the bed. “I presume I need those.”
“You do.” She was thrown by how little thought she’d given to protection, but she wasn’t on the pill anymore.
He began undressing so she did the same, tilting up the edge of her sweater to ask, “May I? Or did you want me to keep it on?”
“You may.” He granted his permission in a deep tone of authority that should have made her balk. He wasn’t the boss of her, but that hint of dominance was kind of a turn-on.
He wanted to control this moment and she wanted to push back so she took her time peeling up the edge of the ultra-soft knit, revealing one centimeter of skin at a time, stretching tall and holding her arms up to give him a long look at the demicups made from blue-and-gold lace that she wore beneath it.
“You very much may,” he said in a pleased rumble as he pulled the sweater free of her upraised arms and discarded it on the floor. “Dios, that’s pretty.” He traced the edge of the lace along the upper swell of her breast, tickling her skin.
Her nipple peaked against silk. He took care to reward her response with a lingering caress there.
“Take your hair down,” he said as he brought both his hands into play against the bra cups.
He was shirtless now and her hands went to his naked shoulders, wanting to feel all of his satiny skin. Wanting to kiss him and taste the hot plane of his chest.
He dragged her hands from his neck and moved them to the back of her head. “Let me see how long it is,” he insisted.
A helpless protest throbbed in her throat, but she did as he asked, pulling pins that fell willy-nilly to the floor.
