Backwards.
“Γαμ? τον Θε? μου,” I breathe.
Fuck my God.
That move. That reckless, ruinous move. Tomcat only does that for me. His silent little signal that he’s thinking the same dirty thoughts currently rioting through my brain.
His eyes never stray from mine as he stalks through the door, every step deliberate, predatory, his gaze firing questions at me.
Where?
When?
How?
My body betrays me, need blazing so fiercely my brain scrambles to catch up with dignity.
Here. Now, please. On the counter. On the floor. In a booth. I’m not picky. Just give me a second to tear off my underwear and spread myself out like a proper offering.
Hard. So hard I forget how to walk, how to think, how to even breathe.
Anywhere. All day. Every day. Until my own damn name slips from my mind.
Oh, man. This is bad. Catastrophically,world-endinglybad.
Each step he takes toward me sends my heart rattling in my chest, a wild drumbeat that thrums in my ears. My skin prickles with a static charge so deep I swear I might burn. I retreat, caught in the electric pull, matching him step for step, until the countertop jolts my escape to a halt. He cages me in with his hands gripping the counter, arms forming a barrier on either side, his gaze searing through me with molten heat.
“Those eyes are begging me to do bad things, Goldie,” he murmurs, his voice rough and gravelly.
A pulse of heat tenses my thighs, desire flickering through me before I can stop it.
His breath skims my cheek, lips and nose gliding torturously slow along my jaw until he buries his face in the hollow of my neck.
Then…
Oh.
Oh, my god.
He inhales deeply, a low, pleased growl vibrating against my skin.
Holy shit.
He just sniffed me.
Why does that turn me on so much?
“If I were to put my tongue on you,” he rumbles, “would you taste as good as you fucking smell?”
I think I whimper.
Maybe moan.
I definitely roll my hips like the shameless creature I am.
Bad girl.
“I bet you would,” he murmurs.