He grinned and shook his head, nipping a kiss. “I’m going to say it to you every day for the rest of our lives, but not until this is over, so whatever happens, you know I’m coming back.”
“Was this whole talk a clever strategy to get me to wear the pink thing?” she teased before nipping his bottom lip and licking over the bite.
He kissed her harder, rougher. Already breathless, he asked, “Did it work?”
“Out. Give me five minutes,” she murmured, indulging in one last, thrusting kiss before pulling away and shoving him out the door.
Humor gleamed in his eyes as he backed out of the room, biting his tongue playfully as he watched her. Behind that look, she could see he was shaken, struggling to stay in the moment.
Jaw pulsing, shoulders back, feet ready to take off. “Turn on some music,” he said, his expression dark despite the sultriness of his tone. “Trust me.”
Nerves on fire, Trace flicked on some music. Mood music, apparently? An odd request, considering the circumstances were odd at best. She quickly dug out the skimpy getup from her suitcase and worked her way back into it, adjusting the girls—the upper and lower bits—into place. In the corner mirror, she did a few Insta-worthy poses until she felt like a complete idiot and decided she was never doing that again.
She opened the door a crack, and he was just coming out from the bathroom, his hair damp from where he’d splashed water over his face.
Lips curling into that wicked smile, easing slowly as one sided lifted higher than the other, he stalked toward her, and she absolutely knew that his targets were intimidated as hell when he came after them. They wouldn’t get to see that smile though, nor see the spark he could never hide from her.
She pushed the door open and set her hands on her hips, flashing a daring nod.
As if she’d stabbed him right in the heart, his mouth opened a breath, brow drawing together hopelessly, and he slowed his pace. “This is the pink thing?” he asked as he reached her. Waiting, tormenting her, he didn’t touch her.
“Yes,” she said, drawing the sound of the word out, feeling completely, utterly silly and sexy at the same time.
“I like it,” he said, voice low and froggy, gaze scanning every scrap of fabric and every part of her that wasn’t covered by fabric.
“It’s not black lace,” she said, tilting a curious, devious look, daring him to play.
He shrugged lightly, that uneven, devilish grin lifting higher. “I fucking love this pink thing even better than black lace.”
Lifting his hand, he traced his fingertips down her sternum, brushing a knuckle across the curve of her breast. Without any sign of a rush, of the imminent threat looming over the house, he took her completely in, curious, appreciating, savoring, each look and light touch making her feel like the only thing on his mind.
His quiet perusal sent electricity tingling up her spine, skin prickling in the wake of his touch.
As her legs turned to jelly, melting, heat rushing through her veins, he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him and moved her toward the bed.
She squeaked as he hooked his hands under her and dropped her onto the bed.
He crawled over her until reaching her mouth, the smile that he hadn’t been able to mask from his eyes spreading until he was grinning with the same thrill she was.
She laughed as he was on all fours, leaning down and teasing her with playful kisses along her jaw. “You’re making great progress on your bear crawls.”
“It’s all about the right motivation.” He laughed and nibbled at her collarbone.
He nipped at her breast and she laughed out loud, quickly quieting as she realized she really, really didn’t want her voice to carry down the stairs.
He trailed his tongue along her breast, dipping under the fabric.
“Fuck black lace,” he said, moving his way down her body and nipping along the way. “Pink silk is it for me now.”
“It’s ridiculous,” she said, keeping her voice calm as he shifted between her legs.
With unshakable focus, he braced his hands on her thighs and shifted the fabric apart with his thumbs. Breath hot against her core, he murmured, “Impractical. But so fucking hot.” He trailed a long, wicked kiss over her, then sunk his tongue thickly into the center of her.
Hands braced on her thighs, thumbs pinning the fabric out of his way, he isolated his focus. Resisting the urge to close her eyes just yet, she looked down and watched as he breathed slow and heavy, braced over her, touching his tongue to her core, slowly and methodically, each lick sending her a degree higher.
Faster, longer, he worked her until her control slipped. Back arched, chest rising as she breathed hard, sounds vibrating her throat and beyond her ability to silence, she savored each sensation.
Although night had faded to full dark outside, safety lights brightened the forest behind the house to near daylight. She bit her lips together to keep quiet, pulse beating faster, control slipping as her sighs became gasps.
