His gaze rose to hers, full of lazy amusement. “Sleeping naked?”
“With you,” she confirmed in a quavering voice. It felt like a lie. She definitely didn’t feel tired anymore.
“The bed is big enough we won’t bump into each other unless we want to.” His tone altered, becoming more businesslike. He straightened off the wall. “I expect Otto to attack the validity of our marriage. He may even report us to immigration. If he doesn’t recognize our union, he won’t have to honor the contract. For that reason, we’ll share a bedroom.”
“And I should lie back and think of Vorstoben?” she asked with acerbic irony.
“I do enjoy that bite of yours.” He ambled toward her. “You’re going to need it.”
Her stomach flip-flopped with nerves as he neared, but she stood her ground and bared her teeth, clacking them in a threatening snap.
“Not with me,” he chided. “You’re tired. I respect that. I won’t touch you until you say you want me to. But do you? Want me to touch you?”
He was so close, she had to tip her head back. Her neck felt weak as a broken flower stem, helpless to the crushing weight of his sex appeal. She felt the trace of his gaze against her lips as though it was his fingertip. His tongue.
She licked away the tickling sensation and saw the flash in his gaze.
“You have to say yes, Meine Schönste.” His maddening voice seduced her. “Say you want me to kiss you again. Küss mich bitte,” he prompted in a voice that was wickedly compelling. Mesmerizing.
“Küss mich bitte,” she repeated, trying the words, but also because she did want him to kiss her again.
It’s only a kiss, she thought before he cupped the side of her face and sealed his mouth over hers.
Immediately, they were back to that wedding kiss, but this time there was no one to stop them. This time, he rocked his mouth to part her lips and his tongue invaded her mouth. It should have been too blatant too soon, but she hadn’t stopped thinking about this. Wanting it. She brushed her tongue against his and delicately sucked.
A feral noise resounded in his throat, one that pleased her into almost smiling. Then his hand bracketed her waist, ran to caress her hip, then back to her rib cage and across her lower back.
Swirls of pleasure unraveled like yarn in her abdomen. His touch felt so good.
She moaned into his mouth and slid her arms up to his shoulders, angling her head in offering, twisting her body to invite the delicious stroke of his hands.Touch me, she telegraphed as he set her ablaze.
His mouth ravaged hers while his hands claimed the rest of her—spine and shoulders and the cheeks of her ass. His palms slid to draw drugging circles on her backside, then clenched her buttocks, making her lift onto her toes in erotic delight.
“Say mehr bitte,” he commanded in a rasp against her ear before his busy mouth moved to her neck. “More,” he translated. “Ask me for more.”
She couldn’t think, could only tremble while his lips sent shivers into her throat and delightful tingles into her breasts. Her nipples stung, and her arms clung, and she was arching to feel the thickness behind his fly against her mound.
“What do you want, Joy?” His head came up. His tongue flicked at the corner of her mouth. Then his wide palm pushed into the notch of her thighs, claiming her swollen mound with such deliberate, possessive pressure, lightning shot through her.
A ragged groan left her.
“You want this?”
No one had ever made her feel so good with so little effort. She had always had to self-serve if she wanted an orgasm, but she was already so aroused, so delirious with lust, she said, “Yes. More. Bitte.”
His kiss drew her back into the velvet darkness, and his hand pressed more firmly. Rocked. Deliberate and unhurried.
She was dimly aware of fisting her hands into his pullover and arching to ensure his touch was exactly in the perfect spot. Exactly the right amount of pressure.
Breaking from his smothering kiss, she gasped urgently, “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” She was taut as a bow, supported by the strength of his arm across her back.This is paradise, she thought. This was how it was supposed to feel. This was the kind of sex she’d been promised by books and movies and whispers and giggles over wine.
“What do you need?” He kept up the delicious rubbing, but added a tiny bit more pressure. A fraction more friction. Some low, filthy words about how he wanted his tongueright here…
His touch pressed the center of her pleasure, and she broke, crying out as contractions struck her middle, collapsing her knees.
He kept his hand there, practically holding her up while she clung and shook and panted. Her pulse had its home in his palm, ringing through her body while she turned her face against his shoulder and saw the door was still open to the lounge.
“Anyone could have seen us,” she said in horror, lurching away from him on shaking legs.
