My breathy “ha” of a laugh came out as more of a squeak, as he leaned forward and slowly pressed his mouth to mine.
I closed my eyes and let him take the lead, slowly letting our lips touch, then pull back, then touch and explore.He inched forward a little more, tightening his grip on my neck just a fraction, and encouraged me to open my mouth wider.
I was putty in his safe, strong hands and let him guide me through the best kiss of my life.I thought for sure that he was going to push his tongue into my mouth or lay me on my back, but he didn’t.He pressed his soft lips to mine one more time, then slowly pulled away.
I was breathless, rampant with need, and so incredibly relaxed.
Blinking open my eyes, I found him watching me, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth higher than the other.
Was he going to kiss me again?
Please.
“Come,” he said, encouraging me to lay back down and rest my head in his lap.He started playing with my hair again.“Tell me something about you that would surprise people to learn,” he said, reaching to the side table and grabbing his wineglass.He took a sip, set it back down, then reached for my free hand again, twining our fingers together.
Swallowing, I studied the strong, angular shape of his jaw and the way the firelight cast beautiful flickering shadows across it.This man was a work of art.A stunning representation of the male form both inside and out.
“Hmm?”he probed.“What is something nobody would expect Danica St.Claire to have done?”
Biting my lip, I hedged a smile.“For my thirtieth birthday, I went and got a tattoo, then I went bungy jumping.Is that surprising?”
“Do you think people would be surprised to know that about you?”
I shrugged.“I’m the shyest of all of us.So, maybe.I take the fewest risks.I’m a bookkeeper, for goodness sake.I crunch numbers and sit in my home office all day, toiling over our business accounts.I’m boring.I’m—”
Pressing his finger across my lips, he shook his head.“You arenotboring.And your job has meaning.Just because you are not fighting bad guys or sailing the high seas catching crabs does not mean your life, your work, is without meaning.”
“Superheroes and crab boat fishermen are the examples you used?”
“I likeBatmanandDeadliest Catch.”His broad shoulder lifted as his eyes and smile became boyish and sweet.“But you are not boring.I do not find you boring.I find you fascinating.And I want to see this tattoo.”He bobbed his silver brows salaciously.“I would never bungy jump.I do not like heights very much.So to me, that is surprising and not boring at all.”
“You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”
“I will remain as still as a statue.”
“As still as theDavid?”I asked, grinning.
“Do you want me to take off all my clothes?”
Yes.
“Just don’t laugh.”
His smile was electrifying, and when I untangled our fingers, my hand trembled when I reached for the hem of my dress.His eyes followed my every movement as I slowly peeled the hem of my dress up my thighs.But my hand couldn’t stop trembling.
My breath grew ragged, and my stomach tightened into unforgiving knots.
“Here,” he said softly, resting his hand over top of mine.“Together.”
Eyes locked on each other, we dragged my dress hem up my thighs, over my pelvis, exposing my black underwear with the little satin bow, until my hipbone and the bunch of grapes with an ocean wave all in grayscale came into view.“Nothing fancy,” I croaked out.“I just liked how it represented my new life.”
With his index finger, he touched each grape, counting them in Italian.“Dieci,” he said.“Ten.One for every member of your family.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, impressed that he figured it out so quickly.
His thumb grazed my hipbone, sending electric zaps to all my erogenous zones.“I like it.”
“Me too.”
