"After this," I murmur, voice dropping low, "you stay at my place tonight."
Her lips part, and I swear I can see the color rise in her cheeks. She looks down, nibbling on her lower lip — and that simple gesture sends a bolt of heat through me.
"Don't do that," I whisper.
Her gaze lifts, lashes fluttering, voice barely above the music. "Don't do what?"
"Chew on your lips like that." My thumb drags across her lower lip; my gaze never leaves hers, my voice rough.
"Why?"
"Because then I want to kiss you so hard, suck on these full lips until they're swollen—and once I start, I won't be able to stop."
She parts her lips in invitation. "You don't have to stop, you know."
Heat courses through me. I shift, feeling desire twitch insistently. She's still sitting on my lap and I tighten my arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly close.
"You can't say that, babe."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't think you understand what those words do to me," I rasp, brushing my mouth against her ear. "Or what they make me want to do..." I nip her earlobe and hear her soft whimper.
"I...uh," she breathes, her voice shaking. "I think I do..."
Fuck.My pulse stumbles.
Our eyes lock—dilated, drinking in the heat between us.
I shift slightly — trying not to think about the way she fits against me, how her warmth seeps into every inch of me.
"You can't say things like that, sugarplum," I murmur against her ear, my voice rougher than I intend. "Not when you're looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're daring me to lose control."
Her lips curve, eyes glinting beneath her lashes. "What if I am?"
My breath hitches.
Those four words hit me harder than a slapshot to the chest. She's close enough that I can feel every rise and fall of her breath, the warmth of her skin brushing against mine, her perfume threading through the air like it was made to mess with my head.
"Then you're playing with fire, sugarplum," I murmur, my voice low and unsteady. "And I'm not sure I'm the kind of guy who'd want to put it out."
Her smile wobbles—part nerves, part something else. Something that mirrors the chaos wrecking me inside. "Maybe I don't want you to."
That does it. Every ounce of restraint I've been clinging to snaps clean in half.
I tilt my head, my fingers tightening at her waist as I pull her just a little closer. She's still perched on my lap, and I can feel her heartbeat racing in sync with mine. For a beat, neither of us moves—just breathing, staring, silently daring each other to close the distance first.
Then she does.
Her lips find mine—soft, certain, devastatingly sweet—and I swear the world tilts on its axis. The noise, the lights, the laughter around us—it all fades.
It's just her.
The taste of her smile, the warmth of her breath, the dizzy rush of realizing that no dream I've ever had could come close to this.
