Just One Taste

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He rose from his stool and unbuttoned his jeans. Loving the eagerness and desire in her eyes, he turned his back and flipped the waistband over, knowing what she’d see on the back of his left hip. He was fairly certain he’d surprised her again.

“It’s a rose,” she said after a moment, the excitement in her tone draining.

“Mmm.”

“I was thinking it would be…”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “What?”

“Something else.”

“A dragon?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“A snake.”

“No way.”

“Maybe an anchor?”

“Definitely not.”

“You’ve got a problem with roses?”

“Well…no.”

“You’re allergic?”

“No.”

She grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. Of course, he took the opportunity to get closer. He wedged himself between her thighs and braced his hands on her hips. The scent of his soap rose from her skin. Desire and possession surrounded him, and he breathed deeply, praying he could hold himself in check. A least for a little while longer.

“A rose?” she asked, still confused.

“I lost a bet.”

She waggled her fingers in a come-on gesture. “You’ve got to do better than that.” When he hesitated, she added, “I’ll tell you my story.”

“Ladies first.”

“Mia and I got them on graduation night from culinary school. We’d celebrated with a little champagne.” At his skeptical look, she added, “Well, a lot of champagne, and the next thing we knew we were at the tattoo parlor getting decorated. Mia got a chameleon on her hip, and I got the butterfly.”

“Why the butterfly?”

“Because I finally felt free, and alive, for the first time.”

“It suits you.”

“I think so. Now, your turn.”

“I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

“So it is. I got mine in high school. I bet another guy I could, ah…get a certain girl into bed before he did.”

She angled her head. The expression in her eyes wasn’t complimentary. “Men are pigs.”

“Definitely. I was young, chère. Forgive me? I lost, after all.”

“One, I can’t imagine you losing. Two—” she slid her hand across his shoulder and cupped the back of his head “—I really like when you call me that.”

“I’ll keep doing it then.” In Cajun French, he whispered a naughty suggestion in her ear. “Now you know all my secrets.”

“I do?”

He smiled. “No.”

“We don’t know each other at all.”

Leaning forward, he tongued her earlobe. “I can fix that.”

She let her head fall back on a deep sigh, exposing her throat, which he took full advantage of. He laid his lips against her warm, pine-scented skin, dragging his mouth along her jaw, then down her neck, pushing his hands beneath the robe, then pushing it off her shoulders.

His heart hammered in his chest as more of her beautiful body was revealed, and his own body throbbed in response. Was she part of his path to redeem himself from past sins? Or would she be a new sin he’d be compelled to atone for?

He wished like hell he could turn off his conscience and embrace hedonism as he once had, but his inner sense of duty—from wherever it had sprung—had been given a voice, and it wasn’t likely to be silenced again.

Though the sound of Vanessa’s ragged, need-filled breathing could no doubt drown out any sensible thought he managed to form.

Placing slow, lingering kisses along her neck and shoulders, he untied the robe, sliding his hands up her bare sides to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed the peaks, which hardened like pebbles.

She moaned again, her eyes still closed, while he, on the other hand, kept his wide open. Seeing the flush of desire creep over her skin was a sight he didn’t intend to miss.

He continued moving his thumbs back and forth across her nipples. She moved sinuously, pushing herself more firmly into his touch. Heat surged through his body. Watching her give herself over to pleasure so shamelessly made him as hard as a rock.