The cave of her mouth is cool and still tastes of lemon and salt. All I can think about is putting my tongue into other orifices and savoring the mingling of tangy tequila, salty lemon, and the sweet, creamy flavor of her body.
My mind is on the mixture of our fluids when I lean back to look down into her face. “I bet you’re not on any kind of birth control, are you?” It’s a random question, one that I probably should’ve asked a little more delicately. But my mind isn’t on being delicate. It’s on being voracious.
She smiles up at me. “Actually, I am. To regulate my periods.”
I’m pleasantly surprised. I expect birth control and regular testing from the experienced women I usually seek out. But with Sloane, although the testing isn’t an issue for a virgin, the other might’ve been. But it’s not. And it makes me even hungrier for her all of a sudden.
“I love it when Mother Nature cuts me some slack.”
Sloane laughs and I feel the husky sound vibrate through me, all the way down to my balls. Every part of me is champing at the bit to get inside this girl.
“I’ve never been too pleased about it. Until now.”
Reluctantly, I release her, reaching for her hand and nodding toward the crowded dance floor. “Let’s dance. Before I throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here.”
“You won’t hear me complaining,” I hear her mutter from behind me.
I don’t think she knows what she’s inviting. But she will.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - Sloane
I’ve never felt more alive, more like I’m experiencing life rather than letting it pass me by. Crushed between warm, writhing bodies on the dance floor, still all I can feel is Hemi’s heat surrounding me, his hard body rubbing against mine in time with the sultry music.
His hands glide over me and the lights pulse around me. He turns my back to him and pulls my body into his, grinding his h*ps against me. Fire pours through me, making my head feel light and my limbs feel heavy.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his lips tickling my ear.
“I feel wonderful. How about another shot?”
“Just one more,” he says. “I don’t want you drunk. I want you to feel relaxed, but I want you to be able to think. And feel…other things.”
A shiver works its way through me. “Then just one more. I wouldn’t want to miss…other things.”
I love this feeling. All these feelings. Most of all, I love being with Hemi. Touching him and being touched by him. I love the anticipation that’s building between us. I love that he’s watching over me, that he’s showing me some fun in a not-so-fun time. I love that he tried to stay away from me and couldn’t, that he’s not even trying anymore. And that he admitted it. I love everything about him and this night.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I look over my shoulder to meet Hemi’s eyes. They’re dark and mysterious in the flickering club lights. They’re also telling. He wants me. He’s not trying to hide it. And I don’t want him to.
“I’ll be waiting,” I tell him, holding his gaze until the crowd swallows him up.
I tip my head back and revel in the thud of the bass. The music is loud and consuming. It drowns out everything else. Everything except what I want to let in. And that’s Hemi. He’s all I want to let in tonight. Him and every experience and sensation he can show me.
I raise my arms above my head, enjoying the way the bodies around me bump and sway in time with mine, in time with the music. The rhythm directs the night. And I lose myself to it, lose myself to the dance. The dance of the clubbers. The dance of me and Hemi. I just give in to it.
And I’ve never felt so free.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Hemi
I make my way back to Sloane, carrying our shots. A bottle of water is tucked in my waist band. She’s gonna need it.
I weave through the tightly packed crush of bodies until they part enough that I can see her. Her eyes are closed and her body is moving to the deep thump of the music. I stop to watch her. I’m captivated by the gentle swing of her shoulders, mesmerized by the suggestive sway of her hips. The way she moves… Damn, it’s so sexy! I don’t think she realizes how much innate sensuality she has, how much appeal she exudes without even trying. I’ve known a lot of women. A lot of women very practiced in getting what they want, in enticing a man, but none of them have made me ache like Sloane does.
I want her. I want to take what she’s given to no one else. I want to be the first to show her everything. And to be the one she can’t forget. She’s like the blank slate I so crave for my art. I want to be etched onto her. Permanently. Something about that thought appeals to the primal man in me, to the animal and the conqueror.
I take a step toward her and, as if sensing the stalk of a predator, she opens her eyes and they focus immediately on mine. Her lips curve the slightest bit. A provocative half grin that makes me think of pushing her onto a bed, rolling her onto her stomach and ramming into her from behind.
I grit my teeth. My patience is stretched to the point of breaking.
When I stop in front of Sloane, she takes a shot glass from my hand and grabs the salt from the bend of my arm. “I’ll go first again,” Sloane says, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Before I can argue, she’s wiggling her tongue over the skin of my throat then standing back to shake a little salt on it. I feel it sprinkle down my arm and chest, doubting that much hit the spot she prepared, and not caring either way.
With her lips and tongue, she licks salt from my neck, tosses back her shot and sucks on the lemon wedge. I see the challenge in her eyes as she watches me over the yellow slice she’s holding between her lips. My patience dissolves like the salt on her tongue.
“You know what?” I ask, pulling her close so she can hear me. And so I can feel her.
“What?”
“I’ve got tequila and lemons and salt and music at my house.”
I lean back to look down at her. Onyx eyes search mine. She knows what I’m saying, what I’m asking. “Then let’s go.”
I hand my shot to the guy standing behind me and I take Sloane’s hand, leading her to the door. I can’t get home fast enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - Sloane
When I opened my eyes and saw Hemi watching me, I knew tonight would be the night we’d take the next step, whatever that might be. But I want it. More than anything.
I want him. I want tonight. I want right now. I want the impulsive, the spontaneous. I want the passion. And I’m about to get it.
The music is just loud enough that we don’t speak the entire way back to Hemi’s house in the posh Atlanta suburb. When he cuts the engine, he gets out, comes around to my side and helps me out, leading me quietly to the front door. Once inside, Hemi takes my purse from my fingers and throws it on the sofa. He turns back to me, cupping my cheek with his palm. “How’s your head?”
“It’s fine. It’s perfect,” I answer with a smile.
“Not too fuzzy?”
“No, it’s just a little…light.”
“Then how about the sauna? The heat will intensify the buzz you feel now, but I’ll take some water so it doesn’t get out of hand.”
“The sauna sounds good,” I say. And it does.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Hemi confesses with a grin. “Be right back.”
A couple of minutes later, Hemi returns with an ice bucket full of ice and an assortment of other things. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall and through a door. The hardwoods turn to beautiful travertine tiles that lead into a short corridor that’s filled with big pots filled overflowing with exotic plants. I can smell chlorine, so I know the pool is close.
Hemi stops in front of a solid wood door with a tiny window at the top. He fiddles with a dial on the wall and then sets the bucket down.
“Have you ever been in a sauna before?”
I shake my head. “No, but I know what they are.”
“Then you know they’re hot and humid. And we’ll sweat.”
“I know.”
“So it’s better to go in with no clothes on.”
I feel like smiling and moaning at the same time. Something about Hemi’s face and his voice and this night is pleasing to me in so many ways, I’m almost confused by the onslaught of feelings and anticipation.
“Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen me na**d before.”
His eyes darken, from cool blue to dark, steamy midnight. “How can I forget?” He reaches for the hem of my shirt. “Let me help you,” he says, raising the material.
Hemi pulls my shirt over my head and drops it onto the floor. Beneath it, because of the cut of my top, I’m wearing a strapless bra. Hemi’s eyes rove over me like I’m wearing nothing. Taking me by the shoulders, Hemi turns me to face the door and presses me up against it, raising my arms above my head, palms flat against the wood.
I feel his fingers tickle down my sides, skating to the center of my back to release the clasp of my bra. I gasp when he runs his hands up my stomach and cups my br**sts where they’re smashed between bra and door. I groan and arch my back. When he moves his hands away, taking my bra with it, he leans into me, pressing my na**d skin against the cool wood of the door. I gasp. “Does that make your ni**les hard? The cold door against that hot skin of yours?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. And I don’t give him one. I’m too focused on his hands as they travel back down my sides, to the edge of my shorts.
When Hemi’s tongue touches my back, I lean further into the door for support. He licks all the way down my spine as he drops to his knees behind me. His fingers curl in the waistband of my shorts, dragging the material over my h*ps and down my legs, leaving me standing before him in only my panties and heels.
“You have a mouthwatering ass,” he groans, stroking one cheek with his tongue and then biting it lightly. I exhale, feeling more lightheaded than I did when we arrived. He eases the silk of my panties to the floor, running his hands back up the insides of my thighs. “And the most beautiful legs I’ve ever seen.” His hands stop just shy of where I’m beginning to ache. “Every time I look at you from behind, I want to come all over your ass and watch you shiver when it runs down between your legs. Like this,” he says, pushing my legs apart to trace a path from the base of my spine to the tops of his fingertips. But he stops when he’s so close. So close…
I feel a whimper build at the back of my throat.
“But not yet,” he says, dragging his hands slowly away, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied.
Hemi pulls me away from the door and opens it. A gush of steam wafts out from the sweetly scented interior. “Have a seat. I’ll be right in.”
I kick off my shoes and step inside the sauna, moving to the wide top ledge and sitting primly on the edge. When I look back toward the door, it’s to see Hemi stripping off his clothes and grabbing the ice bucket. His movements are quick as he steps into the sauna and turns to close the door behind him. It’s when he faces me, the ice bucket and some towels tucked against his hip, that I see what true masculine perfection Hemi possesses.
I’ve seen him mostly na**d before anyway, at the beach and then again in the hotel. But to be able to look my fill, to see him standing before me wearing nothing but an intense look and the ink that I’ve helped apply to his skin is breathtaking.
My eyes travel from his square jaw to his wide shoulders and down his muscular arms. I make note of his flat, rippled stomach and his lean h*ps before my eyes pause on the excited appendage nestled between them.
I’ve seen a na**d man in real life before, but never one like this. Never one so amazingly constructed. Or so…big. It gives me a thrill that Hemi is excited, very obviously so. His erection is long and thick and lies firmly against his lower abdomen, stretching all the way to his navel. My mouth goes dry just thinking about him trying to fit that inside me, but my body aches for him to try. And soon.
My gaze skims Hemi’s strong thighs before returning to his. “Don’t worry, little girl,” Hemi says hoarsely, “I’ll show you how to use it before the night’s over with.”
Heat gushes to the throb between my legs and I nod.
I watch as Hemi sets the bucket on the first ledge and kneels at my feet. He spreads out three thick towels on the wooden seat beside me. “Lie back on these. They’re softer,” he says, tucking one under his knees, too. When I do as he says, he reaches for the bucket, taking a bottle of water from inside it and twisting off the top. He takes a sip then throws a little on the hot coals, causing a burst of steam to fill the room. Then he turns back to me. Hemi holds the bottle to my lips and I lean up onto my elbows. “Drink. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
Doing as I’m told, I close my lips around the end of the bottle. Hemi tilts it up just enough that the cool liquid touches my tongue and then he lowers it. It tastes incredible—cold and refreshing, especially in contrast to the hot environment.
“More?” he asks. I nod and he tips up the bottle again, this time further, so I can get a bigger drink.
Liquid spills from the corner of my mouth and dribbles down my chest, leaving a cool trail behind it. I gasp at the shock of it.
“Cold?” he asks. I nod again.
Dipping his head, Hemi puts his tongue to where the drop stopped half way down my stomach and he licks its wet trail all the way back up to my throat.
“More?” he asks.
I nod yet again.
Hemi holds the bottle of water over my mouth without letting it touch my lips. He pours some onto my waiting tongue then lets some splash onto my collarbone. I suck in a breath as Hemi moves the bottle further, tipping it up and letting cool water cascade over my puckered nipple. It runs down my stomach to the crease of my thigh.