Chapter 34
CLEMENTINE
His kiss was everything I’d been imagining and more.
It was more urgent. More demanding. I didn’t have to ask if he was serious about making this happen.
I could feel it. The tension that had been building and burning between us for weeks was coming to a head.
There was no way either of us could simply walk away.
Not now.
If he wanted to argue and tell me all the reasons why we shouldn’t, I would absolutely shut him down. I didn’t need him to look out for me. I was a big girl, and I could make my own decisions about who I slept with.
Age was just a number.
And we didn’t have to tell anyone. He was so worried people would talk. They didn’t have to know.
I melted into him. My hands found their way to his chest where I could feel his heart pounding as hard as mine.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire.
“What took you so long?” I teased, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I was starting to think you were immune to my cartoon taco pajamas. These are just about the sexiest things I own.”
I had come to his room with the sole purpose of talking. If I would have guessed there could be a chance for sexy time, I would have put on something a little sexier.
But it wasn’t like they were going to be on for long.
He laughed. “Trust me, those ridiculous pajamas are doing things to me that shouldn’t be legal.”
“Good,” I said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “Because I wore them specifically to seduce you.”
“Mission accomplished.” His hands found my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically in his lap. “Though I have to say, your timing is terrible. I just told you my father is a convicted felon.”
“And?” I shifted so I was straddling his thighs, enjoying the way his breath caught. “Am I supposed to be scared of you now?”
“Most people would be.”
“Most people are boring.” I kissed him again, softer this time, letting my lips linger against his. “Besides, you’re an amazing chef and pretty easy on the eyes. Everything else is just details.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” I said with a grin, then squeaked as he suddenly stood up, lifting me with him like I weighed nothing. “Rhett!”
“Bedroom,” he said simply, carrying me across the suite. “Unless you have objections?”
“No objections here,” I managed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Although I should warn you.”
“Warn me?”
“Sex with brooding chef types whose families could probably have me disappeared isn’t really something I’ve done before.”
“They wouldn’t disappear you,” he said seriously. “They like you too much. They’d probably adopt you instead.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s supposed to be reassuring?”
“With my family? Yes.” He set me down gently beside the bed, his hands framing my face. “Are you sure about this, Clem? Because once we cross this line…”
“We can’t go back,” I finished. “I know. And I’m sure. Are you?”
Instead of answering with words, he kissed me again, deeper this time, his hands tangling in my hair. I could taste the champagne on his tongue, feel the barely restrained hunger in the way he held me.
“These have to go,” he murmured against my neck, tugging at my taco-covered pajama top.
“Hey, don’t insult the tacos,” I protested, but I was already pulling the shirt over my head. “They’re lucky.”
“Lucky how?” His voice was distracted as his gaze traveled over my newly exposed skin.
“They got me into your room, didn’t they?”
He groaned, his hands spanning my waist. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“What a way to go, though,” I said, then gasped as his mouth closed over mine. I grabbed his shoulders for support.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he admitted as his lips trailed lower. “About you. More than I should have.”
“Good,” I managed, my fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. “Because I’ve been thinking about it too.”
He jerked his shirt and then his undershirt over his head and tossed it to the side. “And?”
I marveled at the lean muscles and the tattoos. “Better than I imagined. And I have a very good imagination.”
His laugh was cut short as I traced one of the tattoos with my fingertip. “What is this?”
“Later,” he said, his hands finding the waistband of my pajama pants. “Right now I’m more interested in mapping new territory.”
“That’s a terrible line,” I said, but I was grinning as I said it.
“I’m better with food than words.”
“Lucky for you, I find your cooking extremely sexy.”
“Just my cooking?” He was easing my pajama pants down my hips now, taking my panties with them.
“Well.” I pretended to consider this seriously, even as my breath hitched at the feel of his hands on my skin. “Your hands are pretty talented too.”
“I haven’t even shown you what these hands can really do yet.”
The promise in his voice made heat pool low in my belly. “Then maybe you should stop talking and start demonstrating.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft with wonder as he looked down at me.
“So are you.” I reached for him, pulling him down to me.
His mouth was on me again and thinking became impossible.
“I want to taste all of you,” he murmured.
His words sent a shiver through me. When he said he wanted to taste all of me, I believed him. The intensity in his dark eyes promised he meant every word. Rhett was not the kind of guy that did anything halfway.
He started at my collarbone, pressing soft kisses along the delicate ridge before trailing lower. His mouth left a path of fire across my skin. I arched beneath him, my hands fisting in the hotel’s crisp white sheets.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with desire.
I wanted to respond with something clever, but coherent thought became impossible as his mouth continued its journey south.
He took his time, savoring every inch like he was tasting a perfectly crafted dish for the first time.
His hands followed the path his lips blazed, mapping the curves of my body with the same precision he brought to everything else.
When he reached my breasts, I gasped. He looked up at me, those dark eyes holding mine as his tongue flicked across one sensitive peak.
“Rhett,” I breathed, my back arching off the bed.
“I love the way you say my name,” he said before lavishing attention on the other breast.
My fingers tangled in his thick black hair, holding him to me as sensation crashed over me in waves. I had never felt anything like his complete focus. The worship of my body like it was something precious and perfect.
He continued lower, across my ribs, my stomach, pressing kisses to my hip bones. By the time he settled between my thighs, I was trembling with anticipation.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his breath warm against my most sensitive skin.
And then his mouth was on me, and I forgot how to breathe.
He was methodical, like he was determined to learn every response that made me gasp and moan. His tongue moved across my clit, building pressure that had me clutching the sheets and calling his name like a prayer.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice vibrating against me. “Don’t hold back.”
I couldn’t have held back if I tried. The pleasure built and built until I was right on the edge, my entire body strung tight as a bow.
When he added his fingers to the mix, finding that perfect spot inside me, I shattered completely. The orgasm crashed over me in waves so intense I saw stars.
He worked me through it, his mouth gentle now as the aftershocks rippled through me. When I finally collapsed back against the pillows, boneless and breathless, he pressed soft kisses to the inside of my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, crawling back up my body to gather me in his arms.
“That was wow.”
“And just the beginning,” he promised. “I need to be inside you.”
“Please,” I whispered. I’d had one orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. It barely took the edge off. He reached for his pants nearby and pulled out a condom.
“Always prepared,” I teased.
“Boy Scout training,” he said with a grin, then grew serious as he positioned himself at my entrance. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I told him, and it was true.
He entered me slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. The stretch was intense, overwhelming, perfect. When he was fully seated inside me, we both went still, adjusting to the sensation.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
“More than okay,” I managed. “You can move now.”
He did, setting a rhythm that had me seeing heaven. It was everything I hoped for and nothing like I’d expected—tender and fierce, playful and passionate. When I started to climb toward that peak again, he shifted the angle slightly, hitting a spot that made me cry out.
“There,” I gasped. “Right there.”
“I’ve got you,” he promised, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased his own release. “Come for me, Clem. I want to feel you.”
I did. My body clenched around him as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He followed moments later, my name on his lips as he buried his face in my neck.
Afterward, we lay curled together, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
“So,” I said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “that was nice.”
“Nice?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m wounded.”
“Fine, it was earth-shattering and life-changing and now I’m ruined for all other men forever. Better?”
“Much.” His arm tightened around me. “Though I’m particularly proud of the life-changing part.”
I laughed and tilted my head up to look at him. “Your ego is showing.”
“Can you blame me? You were the one making all those sounds.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I was not that loud.”
“The people in the next room might disagree.”
“Oh God.” I buried my face against his chest. “I’m mortified.”
“Don’t be. It was sexy as hell.”
This was it, I thought. This was the beginning of us, really and truly us. Not just a month-long fling or a casual hookup between two people with great chemistry. This felt like the start of something real, something that could last beyond whatever came next.
I didn’t care what anyone else thought. Opinions were like assholes—everyone had them. No one was going to tell me it was wrong. I didn’t care that he was older than me.
“Rhett?” I said softly.
“Mmm?”
“Thank you for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy, talking about your family.”
His hand stroked my shoulder. “Thank you for not running away screaming.”
“Where would I go? I’m in my pajamas.”
“Good point.”
I pressed another kiss to his chest. “Besides, I told you—I don’t care where you come from. Only where you’re going.”
“And where am I going?”
I looked up at him, noting the vulnerable edge to his question. “Wherever you want.”
“Stay tonight?”
“Try and make me leave,” I said, already settling more comfortably against him.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not nearly done with you yet.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”