It must have been his proximity that caused her to do it. She looked at the broad chest against her, wanting to taste the trickling bubbles of soda. She wanted to taste him. She breathed in his male musky scent. The hit kicked her inner vixen to life. She replied, a slow, sassy drawl.
‘I already am.’
She lifted her lashes and let the lust out. Unthinking, uncaring. Just wanting the moment. Now.
He stood stock-still, body rigid. His gaze slowly left hers and lowered, to her lips and down—to her perfectly dry top. Then he looked back up—and to her delight the gold had flamed into life.
His arm pulled her even tighter to him and she sucked in a breath as her body flared against the hard feel of his.
‘Yes.’ She was close enough to feel his breath on her skin, to see the stubble on his jaw—almost close enough to flick her tongue out to taste him. She couldn’t control it. Her tongue touched the tip of her own lip—a tiny, flickering movement.
He tossed the postmix away. She heard it clatter on the bar and then that sense shut down as his other arm closed around her. She became aware only of the feel of him. Close, so close. His gaze had fixed on her mouth and she lifted it as he brought his down slowly.
Their bodies touched, chest to chest, abdomen, hip, thighs and finally lips. Sealing them from top to toe. The kiss was slow. Soft. Simple. But it heralded complications of seismic proportions. From the second his mouth pressed on hers it was all over. There was no way she wasn’t taking this to completion—him to completion—and her.
He lifted his head a whisker and the pulse throbbing in her lips forced her to part them. Immediately he was back and the soft, slow kiss resumed.
He had patience, able to take time for careful consideration.
She didn’t.
She wanted it all. Right now.
So she slipped her hands up between her and him, wanting to unfasten the buttons of his wet shirt. But found she couldn’t. The wet made the material hard to manoeuvre. So she just pulled, heard the rip, then felt the warmth. Fingertips touching the smooth skin that sheathed hard muscle.
She felt her moan rather than heard it. Loved it when he yanked her that little bit closer in reply. Soft became stronger. His hands lifted and worked into her hair, holding it tight at the roots. He took a step forward, forcing her back against the bar.
She ran her hands across the top of his chest, loving the heated strength. His hands massaged in her hair, fingers working through its length. Then one came to cup her jaw, to hold her as his kisses grew in intensity and her response grew more fevered.
She’d never imagined he’d kiss like this. That Mr In Control could have her so out of control in just a few minutes. She felt the shift deep inside. Her body readying, ripening. Wanting it all.
He seemed to sense it. His hands moved from her hair and face to her waist where they gripped and he lifted her up to seat her on the bar. He lifted his head and looked at her while his hands went to her knees—pushing them apart so he could stand between them. Then he reached round her back again and slid her forward on the bar so she perched right on the edge of it—so her open body was pressed against his. Unhesitatingly she wound her legs around his waist. This was what she’d wanted from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. Lust at first sight. Suit be damned.
The kisses resumed—deep, his tongue searching, conquering. And she ran her hands over his shoulders, pulling at the remnants of the wet shirt, pulling it down his arms until he shook it free, flinging it over the bar. She took a second to study the bronzed torso before her. Still damp, super hot. Defined muscles bunched, taut nipples tempted her, but before she could do as she wanted and lean in to taste he was pushing her skirt up to bare her thighs. His fingers trailed fire, teasing, striking at her need. His smile grew wicked at her sharp inhalation of breath. He undid the button at the back. This guy might seem to be square but he was by no means inexperienced in the art of undressing a woman. Maybe he was more of a player than she’d realised. Maybe it wasn’t all work. Right now she couldn’t care less. In fact it was cause for celebration; the sooner they were both free of fabric, the happier she’d be. He unzipped the skirt and, bunching it in his hands, slipped it up, scooping her top at the same time and taking both off over her head. She raised her arms to help. Then she was in panties, bra and cowgirl boots. His hands smoothed over her thighs, rubbing ever upwards while his head bent to kiss soft, hot kisses from her collar-bones to her peaking breasts. She gasped, things were happening fast now—her body melting, desperate for him, but her brain couldn’t keep up. She needed to keep some semblance of control—of protection.
‘You know you’re still not my type.’ It sounded so schoolgirl but it was the best she could come up with under pressing circumstances.
‘And you’re not mine, but we’re doing this regardless.’
Oh, yes.
Her panties were wetter than his shirt had been and she didn’t have the postmix to blame. The sense of urgency increased.
His hands slipped the bra straps from her shoulders and unclasped the back of it. He stared at her bared breasts. She could see the flush in his face.
‘Condom?’ One word. Primitive male.
‘Bathroom.’ She panted. ‘Dispenser.’
He scooped her off the bar and she tightened her legs round his waist, kissing him. He headed in the direction of the toilets.
She pulled back. ‘Coin-operated.’
He swore and then swiftly headed to the back of the bar. His skill at walking while carrying and kissing her was impressive.
He punched at the cash register and took coins from the compartments.
‘Discrepancies in the till,’ she muttered as she lifted her head from nuzzling his warm, rough jaw.
‘I’ll replace it later.’
‘That’s what they all say.’ She felt his chuckle and giggled aloud herself.
He hoisted her higher so he could suck her nipples as he walked through the bar to the restrooms. Lucy was thankful she’d cleared the chairs from the floor space—ample room to weave over the floor in abandon.
They made it to the bathroom. He barged through the door and pulled up next to the vending machine.
She looked at him. He was unable to operate the machine while holding her.
‘I’m not letting you go.’ He grinned. ‘I can feel that wet heat through your panties on my stomach and it’s a sensation I’m not willing to give up yet.’
She twisted round to get the coins from him and dropped them in the slot. ‘Preference?’
‘You choose.’
He was making any kind of decision impossible, the way he was nipping at her breast. Teasing. She pressed the first button and with satisfaction pulled the package from the hold, waving it in victory above her head. He rewarded her with a kiss even hotter than before.
She had to break it, tipping her head, letting her hair tumble down her back, winding her arms tighter round his neck, enjoying the movement of his hard abs against her as he walked.
He strode back through to the bar and with single-minded purpose went to the far end of the room and laid her on the pool table. He kicked off his shoes and his trousers slipped from his waist. He stretched forward onto the table. His shoulders broad, his arms long and muscular as they braced over her. She lay back, propped on her elbows, delighting in the hunger she saw in his face as he skimmed down her body, stopping at her centre.
He pressed his open mouth to the crotch of her panties. Her hips jerked. Her hands fisted. Her squeal instant. Involuntary. Ecstatic.
He looked up to her and spoke, the old challenge back in his eyes. ‘I hope I’m