Ah!
One moment she was pressed against the far door, keeping as much distance between them as the limo allowed. The next, his hands were at her waist, and he was lifting her like she weighed nothing—
And then she was in his lap.
His lap!
Her thighs straddling his, her hands braced against his chest, and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
“I—you—”
“You were saying?” His hands remained at her waist. Steady. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to catch up.
But she could feel him beneath her.
Harder than anyone should be, and pulsing so powerfully against her that it became a rhythm that threatened to hypnotize her senses.
“This is—” Andie tried to find the words. Tried to find the outrage she should be feeling. “This is completely—”
“Inappropriate?” One corner of his mouth curved. “Shocking? Unacceptable?”
“Yes!”
“Then push me away.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, but that was it.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.
Argh!
She wanted to try again.
Truly.
But it was already too late.
Because he was kissing her yet again, but this time...
Oh, this time...
It was nothing at all like that kiss in the library.
This kiss...
This kiss was meant to turn her into his property, with his mouth slanting over hers as his hand slid up to cup the back of her head, tilting her exactly where he wanted her. His tongue swept past her lips, and she heard herself make a sound—a small, desperate thing that would have embarrassed her if she’d had any brain cells left to feel embarrassment.
But she didn’t.
All she had was him.
The taste of him—dark and rich and faintly bitter, like espresso. The feel of him—solid and unyielding beneath her. The scent ofhim—something expensive and masculine that made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe.
Her hips moved without her permission. A tiny shift. A restless seeking.
His grip on her waist tightened.
A groan rumbled through his chest, and she felt it vibrate against her palms.
