‘Who’s what?’
He uses his hands to tilt my head to the side and buries his face in my neck, pretending to take a bite. ‘Fresh meat.’
I hit him on his very nice bicep.
‘Hilarious.’
He straightens up. ‘Look at it from my viewpoint. I’ve seen this carnival a million times. Same faces. Same dicking around, every year. Same old, same old. And then you show up.’ His expression grows serious. ‘And,boom. You hit me like… I don’t know what. A freight train, I guess. You’re so beautiful, and talented,sotalented you blow me away. You’re exactly what I didn’t know I was missing. You’re different.’ He follows the curve of my eyebrow with his finger, tracing down my nose, over my lips and back along my jaw. ‘You are fucking exquisite, Elle. I’m a lucky bastard.’
I stare at him in disbelief. I’m having a major swoon. I can’t believe he feels this way about me.
‘You haven’t got lucky yet,’ I manage.
His grin is positively diabolical. ‘Cute. And true. I intend to fix that immediately.’ His hand closes over the hand that’s holding up my dress and he tugs it gently away. ‘Let me see you.’
CHAPTER 8
Elle
Iyield to Josh Lander, willingly. I let him take my hand. I let my dress fall straight to the floor and side-step out of it. And I let myself enjoy the priceless look of awe on his face as he sees me in my underwear for the first time. I also inwardly send thanks to the gods for Mara, my dastardly enabler, who snuck to the La Perla boutique further along La Croissette earlier and found me this push-up strapless bra and knickers, both in gossamer-thin, palest blue lace. She may also have made a condom pit-stop at thepharmacie.
‘Holy shit.’ His jaw is on the floor; he passes a hand over his face. ‘Oh, my Christ. Baby, you are a fucking stunner.’
‘Thank you.’ He seems shellshocked, so I shyly take a step towards him and close the gap between us, making a start on his shirt.
I am unbuttoning Josh Lander’s shirt.
Yes, yes, yes!
He trails his fingertips so lightly across my collarbones and down my arms that they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Skims his hands down the sides of my bra and over the curves of my waist and hips. And halts my progress with hisbuttons by cupping my bum cheeks, which are only half-covered by a teasing scrap of lace, and grabbing them, hard. He pulls me in for a kiss that’s hot. Hungry. Hurried.
I free my hands from where they’re trapped between us and plaster them to his back, pulling him in as close to me as I possibly can and mentally high-fiving myself at his decisive erection between us. I’ve been thinking about that—this—since our decadent kissing in the sea this morning. It was a glorious taster, and this is the real deal.
From this point, things heat up quickly. Josh’s fingers slip under the lace of my pants before heading north to unclasp my bra. He chucks it away without breaking the kiss and pulls me more closely to him, my bare breasts crushing against his shirt.
I need to get his shirt off. I need skin on skin. I fumble with the remaining buttons while our mouths stay attached and our tongues continue their wet, heavenly dance. Josh impatiently tugs open his final button and pulls off the shirt before getting his first good view of my breasts. His look of appreciation and pain brings a huge smile to my face.
‘Oh, man.’ He reverently cups them, weighing them in his hands. ‘Oh, Jesus, baby. You’re beautiful. You’re—fuck. You’re incredible.’ And he slides a thumb over each nipple, flicking them lightly. Oh, God. Oh, God. My mouth is watering; the heat from his touch shoots straight between my legs. I cling to his now bare and bloody gorgeous upper arms as he acquaints himself with my breasts. I’m burning up already.
He looks me in the eye, his own eyes dark and molten under hooded lids. ‘How does that feel? Does that feel good, baby?’
‘So good.’ I’m arching into him, desperate for his touch. ‘Don’t stop.’
A little laugh and a shake of his head. ‘Believe me, I am not fucking stopping. I couldn’t if I tried.’
He releases my breasts reluctantly and grabs at his beltbuckle, and I help him shove his jeans down. He kicks them off and I have the unearthly pleasure of a private audience with an almost-naked Josh Lander. He’s just willingly imprisoned himself with his biggest, perviest fan. He’s in Calvin Klein tighty-whities, and I swear the brand should make him a poster-boy, because holy cow, he isgorgeous.
Apart from the erection. I mean, the erection is definitely a big (operative word) part of the gorgeousness in front of me, but it may not be billboard-friendly. Anyway, Calvin Klein is missing a trick here. But back to the ridiculous specimen of manhood standing in front of me, giving me his best brown bedroom eyes.
My mouth-watering situation is getting worse. I swallow, and lick my lips, and put my palms flat on his golden, lightly haired pecs. Hard. Sublime. I brush them over his nipples and he shivers. I look up at him in delight.
‘Do you have sensitive nipples?’
He laugh-groans. ‘Yeah.’
‘Really? That is fascinating. I’ve never been with a guy who has sensitive nipples before.’ He doesn’t need to know it’s been a sum total of two. Third time lucky.
‘I don’t wanna think about the guys you’ve been with right now.’
