“Would you like to sit?” she asked, pointing to the couch across the room. He nodded, then picked up his glass again and followed her to the tiny living room. She set the box of strawberries she’d grabbed on the coffee table along with her glass as he lowered his frame onto one side of the couch.
“These heels have to go,” she groaned, kicking them off with a sigh, her poor feet aching from the high arch of the heel. She sank down flat footed and laughed in relief as she stretched her arches out before sinking down into the opposite corner of the couch. “They’re beautiful, but sometimes I don’t think they’re worth the pain.”
He patted his lap and she raised her eyes to his. He gave her a hard look and patted his lap again. “Come on, I don’t bite. I’ll massage your feet.”
“You’re really committed to this fake date,” she laughed dryly, shaking her head, but when he patted his thigh again, she sighed. Val was incredibly happy that she’d taken the time to give herself a quick pedicure while she was getting ready earlier.
She shifted, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch and carefully raised her feet into his lap, cautious not to let the layers of her skirt ride up too far. He grunted in answer and picked up one of her feet, cradling it in both of his large, warm hands. At the first run of his thumb from the ball of her foot, down the aching arch, to her heel, she gasped sharply, and an involuntary moan escaped her. She clamped her hand over her mouth in horror and stared at him with wide eyes. He just chuckled and did it again. Her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy.
She cradled her champagne glass between her hands in herlap, too distracted to drink it as he methodically soothed her aching feet. He paid attention to her toes, her heels, the arches, and even went as far as to massage the muscles of her calves. She was nearly delirious when he finally stopped after squeezing each foot one last time.
“That… was even better than twelve orgasms,” she sighed, letting her head fall back to stare at the ceiling. She brought her head back down to look at him. His dark features were shadowed in the low light, the candlelight flickering along the walls and the ceiling. She raised her arms over her head, first untying the ribbon and setting it aside on the coffee table, before releasing her hair from the pins that held the twist in place. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves and she sighed when the pressure of the pins against her head finally abated. Val pulled her feet from his lap and shifted, leaning over to the box of chocolate covered strawberries and plucking one out of its wrapping. They were ready for consumption without having to maneuver around the stems. She bit down on it and chewed, then chased it with a swallow of her champagne and she nodded in bliss. “Best combination ever.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he murmured, taking a swallow of his own champagne.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, leaning over to pick up another one. She shifted again, rising up on her knees as she moved closer to him, one arm balancing herself on the back of the couch, as she extended her hand toward his mouth. “Try.”
He shook his head, just once, staring at the fruit between her fingers before raising those impossibly dark eyes to her own.
“Please?” she whispered, inching her hand closer. “They’re too good not to share.”
She held her breath as he stared at her for what felt like a lifetime before he slowly leaned forward. His lips parted and she settled the chocolate dipped fruit between them, his straight, white teeth sinking into the soft flesh of the strawberry, near herfingers. His lips and beard grazed her fingertips and she gasped silently. His eyes never left hers as he chewed and then swallowed. She raised the small, remaining bite of the strawberry toward him once more, and he closed his lips around her fingers, fully this time. His tongue laved the pad of her thumb, his beard tickling her fingers, and she thought she just might die from the eroticism of it.
She swallowed hard, still staring at him, and she realized her breathing was erratic and her heart was hammering in her chest as he released her fingers. He swallowed the bite of strawberry and then dropped his eyes to her mouth, which was parted as she dragged in short, rapid breaths.
“I need you to tell me to go home,” she heard him whisper roughly, his voice husky and dark. It skittered over her. He remained impossibly still beside her. “Tell me good night, and tell me not to do this, Val.”
“And what if I don’t?” she asked, her voice shaking just the slightest. She dropped her eyes to his mouth, shifting just a tiny bit closer to him. The arm that was resting on the back of the couch behind him was very nearly touching his hard shoulders. She moved, slowly, bringing her hand to the back of his head, ruffling into the strands of dark hair at his nape. It was as soft to touch as it looked. She felt his breath hitch in his throat at the contact.
Bravely, she lowered her other hand to his bewhiskered jaw and cupped it in her palm, letting her nails scratch lightly against his beard. Then she slid her palm down the side of his neck as she shifted again, moving closer to him. His own breathing had become ragged as she touched him, moved nearer to him, but his eyes remained steadily on hers.
“Val,” he growled low. A warning.
Or a plea.
CHAPTER 10
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.
When he didn’t react for several long heartbeats, she felt mortification well up inside her chest and she pulled away quickly, dropping her gaze to the buttons on his shirt. “Oh God, I’m sorry—”
Hands bracketed her face and pulled her back to him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a low groan. She fell forward slightly, catching herself on his shoulders, her fingers tightening into fists in the fabric of his shirt as his tongue speared between her lips and sank into her mouth. His head twisted, deepening the kiss, his mouth slanting over hers voraciously. They kissed until they were both breathless, tongues tangling. His beard abraded her deliciously. Wet heat had pooled between her thighs. Desire like she hadn’t felt in ages roared through her veins.
He drew his mouth from hers, pressing his forehead to hers and rolling it there, her face still clasped between his large, work roughened hands.
“Tell me to go,” he groaned, his eyes clenched shut tightly, even as he continued to roll his forehead along hers. “Tell me to leave, Val.”
“I can’t,” she gasped, her fingers tightening in his shirt. “I won’t.”
He kissed her again, one hand sliding behind her neck to clasp her nape, beneath her hair. He tasted like bourbon, champagne, and strawberries. His kiss deepened again, and she moaned into his mouth. She was so wet. Aching.
Sliding one leg over both of his thighs until her knees were straddling his hips on the cushions of the couch, she settled on his lap. Her dress had bunched and pooled around her thighs. Shifting forward, she gasped audibly when she felt him, hard, against the junction of her thighs.
Her gasp had him yanking away from her sharply, moving her roughly off of him and onto the couch once more. He stood, striding away from her with jerky, stilted movements. Beau stood with his back to her, where he’d left her on the couch. He blew out a ragged breath and scrubbed his hand over his face and down his jaw, before letting his chin drop down until it nearly touched his chest.
Rejection tasted bitter in her mouth, made her chest ache painfully. But then she watched as he palmed the front of his jeans as he raised his head with a low groan, and she knew he wanted this. Wanted her.
Standing on silent feet, she crossed to where he stood, sliding her palms up his hard back. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away from her.
