Eyes drifting closed, a low whimper leaves my throat, and I grip his muscled forearm.
Abruptly he breaks away.
I chase his mouth, not done with him yet, but he evades.
“What I say goes.” He punctuates his remark with a short, brutal kiss. “The second you sent me that list, you gave up control to me.” Again his lips claim mine.
Dizzy with desire, his words, the press of his mouth, pushes past my nerves and reservations. All my overthinking.
He rips his mouth away, and I practically fall into his lap. “When I ask you something, I expect an answer, not questions.”
My body and mind are so confused I can’t form a sentence.
But I needn’t have worried because his mouth crashes down on me, and there is no more thought. The invasion of his tongue eradicating all doubt how he is handling me.
I surrender to it. Yes, this is exactly what I meant.
He releases my mouth. Grip remaining tight on my neck he growls, “Now tell me if you’ve ever had a fucking orgasm.”
Eyelids flying open, I meet his penetrating gaze.
I can’t deny my response. My body practically vibrates with it. My nipples are hard. The fabric of the black underwear I wear, damp. And he’s barely touched me.
After sending the email this morning, I’d promised myself to go unabashedly for what I want. Come hell or high water. It’s time to put my money where my mouth is since he clearly isn’t going to let this go. And he’s right, this is exactly what I’d asked for, I just hadn’t known it.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
The corners of his mouth soften. “If you’re not sure, then you haven’t.”
I square my shoulders, tilting my chin. I know, I know, it’s pathetic I’ve never technically had an orgasm, but at least I’m taking action. And the last thing I want is for him to feel sorry for me.
He leans in close and flicks his tongue along my bottom lip. “Trust me, Abby. I find everything about you sexy as hell.”
All I want is to throw my arms around him in gratitude.
The waiter chooses that moment to take our dinner orders, but Lukas sends him away since our menus lay unopened on the table. When we’re once again alone, he picks up the cream-colored menu and hands it to me.
I swallow, trying to work some moisture into my dry throat. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“You’d better. You’re going to need your strength.”
The wicked smile he bestows on me makes my blood race.
“Oh.” Thankful for the distraction over my humiliating admission, I bend my head to study the entrée selections with elaborate concentration but little interest. I decide on the first pasta dish I see that doesn’t have long noodles I’d be forced to slurp into my mouth.
The server returns, and after we place our dinner orders, Lukas shifts his attention back to me. “Have you ever tried to get yourself off?”
Oh my god, haven’t I admitted enough? I shrug.
“That’s not an answer.”
I blow out a hard breath. “Fine! I’ve tried, but it never works.”
His hand slips onto my bare knee and I jump in surprise. With his thumb stroking the inside of my leg, he asks, “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” His hand moves higher and I press my thighs together.
He nips my earlobe. “Did you rub your clit?”