Page 48 of The Last Kiss

“Breakfast.” I grab him back. Don’t break the rules, my kiss insists. The rule is your mouth has to be on mine until one of us is about to pass out from lack of air.

One of the better ways to pass out, I think.

Anchoring my elbows into the cups of his palms, he lifts me slightly so he can carry me, edge me back further into the bedroom. I let him lead, willing to see where he wants to take this, what he needs from me.

By a chair he turns us, sitting down and drawing me onto his lap, fingers dancing at the nape of my neck as he keeps my ravenous mouth on his. My skirt gathers around my thighs as I straddle his legs and I pull at his tie, sliding it down gently so I don’t tighten the knot. I dot little kisses at the unbuttoned top of his shirt, planting kisses that grow into a heady kiss of tongues and clashing teeth. His hands run down my spine making me arch and straighten like a cat.

Damn, Barney.

I push him from my head. He can survive one night without an extra-large serving of Whiskas.

“Where have you gone?” Romeo pulls back, hand slipping through my hair, gaze intent.

A grin breaks on my face as I shake my head. “Sorry, was thinking my cat hasn’t had dinner.” I peck another kiss on his mouth.

“Your cat? You’re thinking of your cat?”

“Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

His kiss tells me it won’t happen again. His tongue demands complete focus and adherence. I can do that, I answer back, sweeping mine against his, diving deep into warm places.

“Is this crazy?” I ask, words just bubbling.

“What?” he asks my throat as I lean back.

“This. Us.”

Lifting up, he meets my gaze and I warm into a molten pool of hot metal at the rawness in his gaze. “Only time can tell, ma petite.”

His fingers reach for my black blouse, ending further conversation. He probably thinks I only have one outfit. It’s not my fault Friday seems to be our day. Good news is I have on my best underwear. Strangely, the hospital visit, which was my reason for putting it on, seems far away. Like it could have happened in a different life.

Which I guess I wish it had.

I block the thought as he gently and painfully slowly undoes the buttons, cool fingers dipping inside the material. He leans in following his lips along the same path. Until he stops and pulls back.

“Juliette? What is this?” With the tip of his middle finger, he runs southward on the pink scar down the middle of my chest. Not old enough to be hidden in the moonlight, it stands out in stark relief. A crimson splash on alabaster.

“An accident.” I lie, but it sits uneasily on my stomach. “It’s nothing.” His midnight gaze watches me. “Are you taking this blouse off today or tomorrow?” I tease, knowing I’m setting myself up for the most pleasurable form of torture.

I rush, he slows.

A delicious dance. A two-step between us, unique to the way he makes me feel.

“Are you rushing me?”

“No!” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, fighting my smile.

With his hand, he lifts my hair, brushing it over my shoulder, running it through his fingers as he straightens up and pushes us close together, his lips dancing at my ear. I drop my fingers to his shirt, unbuttoning one fastening after the other, smoothing my thumbs along the warm skin of his chest.

I need to be skin on skin. I arch myself while his dark eyes watch me curve, the articulation of my body begging for more.

He moves my blouse an inch and I growl in frustration, his answering chuckle vibrating against my neck.

With his shirt open, I rock back and unloop his leather belt, running it through the buckle and unhooking the fastening of his suit trousers.

Flashing the devil’s grin, I slip from his lap and come to my knees on the floor, shining a smile up at his shadowed face. Moonlight floods the room, bathing the surfaces it touches in pewter. His fingertips brush the crown of my head and I lean up, unzipping his fly and easing his trousers and boxers down with a gentle pull of his hips.

His gaze is all hooded burning desire and power rushes through me, waking me up to the strength I have inside me. Dipping my head, I lick his length, savouring the smoothness of his skin. That ripple of power tickles down my spine as he sighs, slumping back a little, his long arm still stretched towards me, heavy hand on my shoulder.