I’d meant for it to be soft and tentative, at least to begin with. But that lasted about half a second. He inhaled sharply and suddenly he was everywhere. His tongue parted my lips, dipping in and tasting me until I moaned.
His responding groan sent hot zings of pleasure shooting straight from where our mouths met to between my legs. His fingers glided up my arm and gripped the side of my neck, tilting my head to give him better access to me.
This man knew how to kiss! I was about to liquify into a puddled mess at the way he plundered my mouth, nipped my bottom lip and then swallowed my shocked little mewl.
I tangled my hands into his curls, and with a deep grunt, he hauled me from my spot beside him in the spa until I was straddling his lap, one hand holding my jaw so he could take my mouth, the other gripping my hip, pressing me against…
I gasped.O Doamne! His erection was enormous, and as I squirmed, it pulsed against my core, flooding me with heat and achy need.
“Catnip,” he murmured into my mouth, then pulled back, breathing hard. He touched his forehead to mine, fingers tight on the nape of my neck. He still had me locked against his throbbing dick, and every twitch was sending me closer to the point of no return.
“Why’d you stop?” I panted, dazed and more than a little disappointed.
“We shouldn’t,” he rumbled, chest heaving. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because …” He shook his head.
“That’s not a reason, you know,” I murmured, cupping his burning cheeks. “Doyou have a good reason why we—a husband and wife—can’t kiss each other senseless in the privacy of the spa on your super yacht?”
He released the iron grip on my hip, fingers trailing lines of fire over my waist and ribs and back down again.La naiba, he didn’t even need to kiss me, and I would melt for him, just from the reverent way he touched me.
No man had ever touched me like that. Most of them touched me in ways that were so vastly different, it didn’t even fall under the same definition.
“Do you?” I prompted.
“Do I what?” he growled. His cock jerked against my pussy again, and I bit back a moan of pleasure.
“Do you have a good reason why we can’t do this, Henry? You said we need to be convincing as a married couple—as a loved-up couple.”
“Ri … Outside of when it’s necessary for our little ruse to be believed, I don’t want you to have to pretend …”
I snorted. “I’m not pretending to enjoy kissing you!”
He sucked in a breath. “You’re not?”
“And neither are you, big boy.” I grinned, wiggling on his pulsing erection. He let out a shaky groan, face warming even more between my palms.
“It’s so unfair that I can’t hide my … enjoyment,” he muttered, which had a laugh bubbling out of me. “And I don’t want to make the next two years awkward for you.”
Kissing him felt like the least awkward thing I’d done in years. I gritted my teeth against that truth. He was trying to be a gentleman. And he was also probably right. What if kissing led to fucking … and then fucking led to feelings … and then feelings led to friction, and fighting, and resentment, and still having to coexist for two whole years while silently hating one another?
Damn it, I liked kissing him! I liked kissing him more than I’d liked anything, with any of my partners, ever.
“But we need to be believable when we’re pretending!” I exclaimed. It was the only protest I could think of that didn’t sound like me begging for him to put his mouth on mine again. “How can we do that if we don’t practise?”
He met my eyes for long enough to give me a ‘really?’ look. “I don’t necessarily think that immigration officials are going to expect you to bounce on my boner to prove the legitimacy of our love.”
A peal of shocked giggles exploded out of me, shaking my body until every movement was more friction where his still-hard cock met me.
“I’m so pleased that you find me amusing,” he remarked wryly. I wiped the tears from my eyes, noticing his tight jaw, the way he held himself so rigidly.
“Oh!” I climbed off his lap, settling beside him once more. “Sorry … was I making you a bit too excited there, buddy?”
His flustered frown brought on a fresh wave of mirth. “I’m sorry!” I wailed, wiping a tear from my eye. “It’s just that you’re usually so proper, I think the last thing I ever expected to hear come out of your mouth was ‘bounce on my boner’.”
“So,” he began, cocking an eyebrow, his expression curious, and maybe … hopefully … a little flirty. “Should I have said ‘rotate your hips over my engorged phallus’?”
