Page 48 of Pleasure Payback
Damian sauntered to the bottom edge of the chaise and lowered himself onto the seat. ‘She’ll do. Personally I prefer something a little older.’
His hands curled around my ankles and lifted my feet into his lap.
My breath caught when my instep connected with the hard ridge in his trousers. ‘How much older?’
Warm fingers trailed up my silk-covered calves. ‘Puccini holds my attention. Vivaldi equally so.’
‘Ah, you’re thestuffyopera-loving type.’
His smile was a touch warmer but he didn’t look up from where his thumbs gently dug into my calves. ‘Something that lifts your soul can’t be stuffy. I’m also equally moved by a Bowie song.’
His magic fingers reached the backs of my knees and lingered. I couldn’t help my gasp as heat lanced my body.
When his gaze stopped pointedly at where I held the robe closed at my thighs my fingers tightened. I fought the urge to open myself up to him. Instead I wanted to dig deeper beneathhissurface even though he’d clearly stated that he’d prefer me not to.
‘What else moves you?’ I asked, ignoring the breathlessness in my voice.
‘You. You move me, Neve, even when I don’t want to be.’
The terse, unfettered confession strangled my breath.
I cautioned myself against being taken in by it. We were living a fantasy. Closed off in a bubble of searing desire that had no substance outside these walls. It would be foolish to get carried away by anything that happened here.
Anything that didn’t feed my goal to have Damian at my mercy.
‘Show me,’ I commanded. ‘Show me how much I move you.’
His nostrils flared as I tugged on my belt. The hands cupping my knees tightened and his fingers dug in, adding another searing layer of lust to my already rampant arousal.
His gaze fixed at the opening to my robe, probing as his hand trailed back down to ease off one heel. Firm hands caressed my foot, then raised it to plant a soft kiss on my instep. He trailed his lips over my ankle bone, up the inside of my leg to my knee before repeating the intoxicating course with my other leg.
Damian shifted, hitched one knee onto the seat and arranged my legs on either side of his body. Then he prowled forward until his upper body was draped over me. Catching the sides of the robe, he slowly eased them apart, swallowed thickly as his gaze hungrily raked over me.
My lingerie was authentic French lace and expensive satin, bought as a birthday present to myself. The moss-green material formed a corset that cinched in my waist and blatantly emphasised my curves with the tops of my breasts almost spilling free of it.
‘Jesus,’ he rasped hoarsely.
‘Do you like what you see, Damian?’
‘Bloody hell, yes,’ he replied in a strained voice, whispering his hands over the satin in a light dance over the tops of my breasts before rising to caress my neck.
After a moment, his fingers dipped beneath the robe, slid it from my shoulders and down my arms before lifting me free to toss it away.
He sat back on his heels.
No longer restricted, I draped my arms over the chaise, and moved one foot towards his lap, shamelessly rubbing his rock-hard erection.
His eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace lancing over his features before he speared me with a sizzling stare. ‘Tell me what you would’ve done if I hadn’t come.’
The unexpected question threw me, as did the possessive throb in his voice. I hadn’t quite taken Damian to be the possessive type.
‘Why?’
‘Because I intend to make it better than you could ever have managed on your own.’
‘That’s a bold boast.’
‘Tell me,’ he insisted.
