Chapter 14 #3
Time seemed to slow, stretching like honey as we sat there, the remains of our dinner forgotten.
The city lights twinkled beyond the windows, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt almost dreamlike.
The soft jazz from hidden speakers mixed with the gentle clink of silverware and crystal, while shadows from the candles danced across the table.
It should have been romantic. Instead, it was pure torture.
Because Jason was right there, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
His arm draped casually across the back of my chair, fingers occasionally brushing my shoulder in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
Every movement showcased the play of muscles under his fitted shirt, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d felt under my hands in the library.
“Tell me about your favorite book,” he said, casually offering me a bite from his plate. The domesticity of sharing his fork, combined with the intensity of his gaze on my lips as I accepted the morsel, made my pulse race.
“My… what?” His thumb was now tracing circles on my bare shoulder, and coherent thought was becoming impossible.
“Books,” he repeated, his lips quirking in that knowing way that said he was fully aware of what he was doing to me. “You enjoy reading, don’t you?”
I did. I had. Before I’d somehow landed in one of those books and found myself sitting next to a hero who was even more devastating in person than on paper.
The book had described his eyes as piercing blue, but it hadn’t captured how they darkened when he looked at me like that, or how the candlelight brought out flecks of silver in them.
“I…” His hand moved to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and I completely lost my train of thought. “Words. I like… words.”
His low chuckle vibrated through me as he leaned in to brush his lips against my temple. “Words?” The heat of his breath against my skin made me shiver. “Any particular ones?”
Yes. Several. Most of them unsuitable for dinner conversation and all of them describing what I wanted to do to him right now.
“How’s the lamb?” he asked, his thumb now stroking just behind my ear in a way that made my toes curl.
“The what?” I managed. His other hand had found its way to my thigh, drawing maddening patterns that were definitely not helping my concentration.
“The food, Victoria.” His voice had dropped to that deep register that made heat pool in my belly. “The dinner you’ve barely touched.”
Oh right. Dinner. That thing we were supposed to be doing instead of me fantasizing about climbing into his lap and…
“It’s…” His fingers trailed up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “…good?”
“Just good?” He was definitely teasing now, his face close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Gregory will be disappointed.”
I turned to argue and found myself nose to nose with him.
The city lights reflected in his eyes, turning them stormy.
His lips—those unfairly perfect lips that had been driving me crazy all evening—curved into a slight smile.
I could feel the heat of him, smell that subtle cologne that made me want to bury my face in his neck.
His hand was still in my hair, thumb brushing my jaw in a way that made thinking impossible.
“I…” The words died in my throat as his gaze dropped to my mouth.
All evening, I’d been fighting a losing battle with my self-control. Every touch, every look, every casual brush of his body against mine had been slowly dismantling my resistance. Now, with him so close, looking at me like that, I couldn’t remember why I’d been fighting it at all.
To hell with it.
I grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward me, crushing my lips to his.
He responded with a growl that vibrated through my entire body, his hands moving to tangle in my hair as he angled my head just so.
I parted my lips on a gasp and he took full advantage, his tongue plunging into my mouth with a hunger that matched my own.
Our tongues tangled in a desperate dance, and I moaned shamelessly into his mouth, completely past caring about anything but getting closer.
The kiss was wild, consuming, nothing like the polite exchanges I’d read about in romance novels.
This was pure fire, raw need, every sweep of his tongue against mine sending liquid heat coursing through my veins.
I clutched at his shoulders, pressing closer as his hands roamed down my back, leaving trails of electricity in their wake.
When we finally broke apart, we were both panting like we’d run a marathon. His eyes had darkened to midnight, pupils blown so wide the blue was just a thin ring of storm clouds. I could feel his heart thundering under my palms, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Victoria,” he breathed, his voice rough and deep in a way that made my toes curl and my insides melt.
“So,” I managed, trying for casual despite my racing pulse, “your place or mine? Though technically, they’re both yours, so really, you’re just choosing which direction to walk.”
His answering smile was pure sin. “I’m thinking somewhere more…” His thumb brushed my lower lip, making me shiver. “…comfortable. Where I can properly appreciate that clever mouth of yours.”
In one fluid motion that would have made action movie choreographers weep with envy, he stood and scooped me into his arms. I wrapped myself around him like an octopus with better fashion sense, already drawn to that tempting spot below his jaw that had been driving me crazy all evening.
The taste of his skin was addictive—salt and expensive cologne and pure male—and the groan that rumbled through him when I nipped gently made me feel like I could conquer worlds.
“If you keep doing that,” he warned, his voice deliciously strained as he carried me toward the stairs, “we might not make it to a bed at all.”
I grinned against his neck, drunk on desire and the heady power of reducing this controlled man to barely contained need. “What’s wrong with right here? I’m sure your interior decorator included some strategically placed flat surfaces.”
His grip tightened almost painfully, and his stride lengthened. I took that as encouragement, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, letting my teeth graze his earlobe. The sound he made was pure animal, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.
“You,” he managed between ragged breaths, “are playing with fire, little temptress.”
I pulled back just enough to meet his darkened gaze, letting him see exactly how much I wanted this—wanted him. “Good thing I’ve always been a pyromaniac at heart.”
His answering growl promised to burn us both to ashes.