I pull her to a stop beside a stone planter overflowing with pink roses. She leans against it and looks up at me, and whatever she sees in my face makes her forget to breathe.
“This is supposed to be fake.”
“I know.” Her voice is a whisper.
“I don’t think I can do fake anymore.”
I cup her jaw and tilt her face up. Her breath catches, lips parting, and her eyes go dark.
“Then let’s stop pretending.”
I pull her against me and kiss her hard, one hand buried in her hair, the other pressed flat against the small of her back, and everything I’ve been holding in all night flows into the kiss. She opens her mouth for me, and heat bolts down my spine. I groan into her mouth, and she pulls me closer, her arms tightening around my neck.
Her lush breasts press against my chest, and I drop my hands to the curve of her hips and pull her against me. I press my hips against her, showing her how hard I am, and her breath catches as she rolls her hips into mine.
I back her into the planter, and orchids tremble above us. She’s pinned between my body and the cool stone, flushed everywhere I can see, her eyes black in the dim light.
“Archie.” My name in her mouth is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I drag my lips down her throat, her collarbone, the soft skin above her neckline. She arches into me, one leg hooking around my calf, pulling me between her thighs. The heat of her againstme is unbearable. I want to be inside her. I want to lay her down right here among the orchids and make love to her until she’s trembling, until she’s moaning my name.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she gasps.
I pull back enough to look at her. Lipstick smeared, hair tumbling loose, damp curls clinging to her neck. Gorgeous. And looking at me with an intensity that makes my whole body ache.
“Let’s stay here,” I say.
Her eyes go wide. Then her mouth curves into a smile that nearly makes me come in my pants.
I kiss her again, slower this time, and slide my hands to the hem of her dress. The silk bunches under my fingers as I draw it up over her knees, along the soft skin of her thighs, and the sound she makes against my mouth is worth everything in the world.
CHAPTER 6
TESSA
His hands slide the silk higher up my thighs, and I shiver as the humid air of the Conservatory hits my bare skin like a warm breath. I don’t care that we’re fifty yards from three hundred guests and a string quartet. I don’t care about anything except his mouth on my throat and his fingers gathering my dress and raising it to my hips.
“Archie,” I moan as he drags his tongue along my neck, then sucks on my earlobe.
He pulls back and stares into my eyes. I reach for his belt and pull him closer.
Archie kisses me again, walking me backward until we’re at the stone bench where I draped his tuxedo jacket.
“Sit,” he murmurs against my mouth.
My legs are shaking enough that I don’t argue. He stays standing for a beat, looking down at me—bow tie hanging loose, shirt half untucked—and the raw want on his face makes my stomach dip.
Then he drops to his knees.
His hands push my dress higher, thumbs tracing the soft skin above my stockings.
“This okay?”
“God, yes.”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and draws them slowly down my legs. His knuckles drag along my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He tucks them into his pocket without breaking eye contact, and the casual possessiveness of it sends heat flooding through my slick core.
He eases my knees apart, presses his mouth to the inside of my thigh, and I realize he’s going to take his time. He’s going to make me wait.
