Page 20 of Dirty Player
His kiss unraveled me as our tongues twisted, taking and hunting but not giving, and I succumbed to his touch, to his idea.
To the thought of him, for one night, where we could play out whatever we wanted and walk away.
It wouldn’t be enough. I was smart enough already to know it based on the heat rolling off his skin, the tightness in his muscles as he devoured me.
I was also smart enough not to say anything as he pulled away, both of us gasping for breath when he harshly growled, “Turn around. When I make you come, I want you watching.”
I did exactly what he asked. I’d walked into this knowing what would happen. My body primed before he even held out his hand on the patio.
I twisted toward the bathroom mirror, legs shaking, wits scattered all over the marble floor.
“Hands on the counter.”
I did what I was told, unable to think. I was pulled to the look in Oliver’s eyes. Surly expression still in place like I’d made him angry. Like the thought of wanting me pissed him off.
“Oliver,” I whispered. His gaze flickered to mine in the mirror. I looked wild, reckless.
He appeared firmly in control.
“Do it,” I dared him when I saw his hands flex into fists at his sides.
He reached out and pulled down on my cover-up. The cheap, tube top cover I’d bought at Target just the day before fluttered to the ground and I was in front of him, barely dressed. Strapless bathing suit, twisted between my breasts, low-rider bottoms. It wasn’t a bra and underwear. It actually covered more than my usual panties.
His gaze traveled down my back and my backside and then switched so he could look at me in the mirror. He stared at me like I was already naked. He made me feel like I was already naked.
“I want to see your breasts.” He said it mostly to himself, but I still nodded. My silent approval. “I want to see everything.”
“Okay.”
His hands slid up my back, taking their time, trailing large circles over my skin. His thumb flicked over the clasp at the back of my suit. My hips rocked forward in response and the surliness in his expression faded to something else…something scarier. Something that looked like rapture mixed with desire.
His thumb rested on my strap again, tightening at the clasp. I inhaled a steadying breath while he deftly worked to undo it.
“Tell me. Are you wet for me already? After a kiss and some touches?”
Pink burned my cheeks and chest. “Yes.”
I was past the point of being embarrassed, too turned on, too needy to care.
“When?”
“When what?”
He finished working on my suit and let it drop to the floor. I stared at my breasts in the mirror, knowing that was where he was looking.
His hands slid from my back to the sides, fingertips brushing the sides of my breasts, and I gasped.
“When did you get wet?”
He stepped closer to me, until I could feel him at my back. He was so tall. This position would never work. I opened my mouth to answer when his hand covered my breast and he brushed the side of his thumb over my nipple.
A delicious scrape. It sent fire to my sex.
“When did you get wet?” he asked again, moving to my other breast, my other nipple. “Tell me. I want to know. When I kissed you? Before?”
“When I saw you talking to Rudolph.”
His smile lit up the small bathroom like I’d pleased him.
