wears shoes like that on a first date?”
I resist the urge to slap his arm. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times. I get way too handsy. “The kind of woman who’s busy doing what she was told.” The wind makes the trees whisper, the leaves dancing above us.
Dominic’s eyes go all hooded and lustful. This immensely serious look wipes away all traces of good humor. “Do you like it when men tell you what to do?”
With anyone else, the warning bells would be going off in my head and I would be in serious stranger danger mode, but Dominic puts me at ease. My eyes stray to his lips. Would they feel as good as they did last night if I kissed him right now? Would he pull me in close? Would he run his hands up my back, under my shirt? Skin against skin?
I realize he’s just standing there, watching me stare at him. Waiting for me to answer his question. I blush and swallow hard. Shrug and turn away. “Depends on the man,” I say over my shoulder.
“Stop.” Dominic’s voice is husky. Almost harsh. There’s an edge that sets my blood on fire.
I do what he says. Freeze in my tracks but don’t turn back around.
“Don’t move,” he says, his voice still thick and warm, so sensuous it sends goosebumps racing across my flesh. The jingling and jangling of his backpack tells me he’s moving and then there’s the sweetest rush of contact as he traces his fingers ever so lightly up my arms. I shiver and my lips part. Dominic’s breath is warm on the back of my neck, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.
I hesitate. If I turn around, I’ll be so close to him. Face to face. Chest to chest. Will he kiss me? Or better yet, will I kiss him? Impulse control has never been one of my strongest qualities.
“Turn around, Dakota.”
My name in his voice is a siren’s call to my libido. I do as I’m told. Spin slowly, carefully. Ever so aware of the tiny sliver of space between our bodies, charged with heat and desire. Dominic is smiling down at me. Without a word, he leans in. Craning his neck to bring his mouth to mine. My lips part. My chest is heaving. My body thrumming and throbbing with excitement. I close my eyes.
His lips never touch mine but I can feel how close they are. Our breath mingles. It’s like electricity racing against the delicate flesh of my lips. I open my eyes. Consider reaching up, closing the distance, forcing the kiss. He turns his face and I turn mine. He brings his hands to my hips, again, a touch that’s just barely a touch. The tiniest bit of contact that is somehow more powerful than if he had grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth to mine. These delicate whispers create a need in me, a flame I won’t be able to ignore until I have more of him.
“Am I that man?” he asks, his lips moving against mine, fanning the flames. “That man you’ll give control to?”
I want to answer, but I’m struck dumb by this man. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I lean in, almost without knowing, needing to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine.
“Answer me, Dakota.”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. I give him the answer that should embarrass me. The answer that is so unlike me but so very true because I’m sure that as soon as I do, he’ll end this delicious torture and kiss me.
Dominic pulls away and if disappointment had a face, it would be mine. “Good,” he says and takes off walking, leaving me in a big heap of lustful, wet-pantied confusion. “Come on,” he says with a little jerk of his head and damn if I don’t scamper after him.
We walk for a bit in silence, pausing every now and then for Dominic to take a picture. At first the pictures are of the trees. A flower. A close up of a moss covered rock on the bank of a small creek. But more and more often, he takes pictures of me.
“Put your hands in your hair,” he says when he has me leaning on a tree.
“Look down,” he says
I resist the urge to slap his arm. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a million times. I get way too handsy. “The kind of woman who’s busy doing what she was told.” The wind makes the trees whisper, the leaves dancing above us.
Dominic’s eyes go all hooded and lustful. This immensely serious look wipes away all traces of good humor. “Do you like it when men tell you what to do?”
With anyone else, the warning bells would be going off in my head and I would be in serious stranger danger mode, but Dominic puts me at ease. My eyes stray to his lips. Would they feel as good as they did last night if I kissed him right now? Would he pull me in close? Would he run his hands up my back, under my shirt? Skin against skin?
I realize he’s just standing there, watching me stare at him. Waiting for me to answer his question. I blush and swallow hard. Shrug and turn away. “Depends on the man,” I say over my shoulder.
“Stop.” Dominic’s voice is husky. Almost harsh. There’s an edge that sets my blood on fire.
I do what he says. Freeze in my tracks but don’t turn back around.
“Don’t move,” he says, his voice still thick and warm, so sensuous it sends goosebumps racing across my flesh. The jingling and jangling of his backpack tells me he’s moving and then there’s the sweetest rush of contact as he traces his fingers ever so lightly up my arms. I shiver and my lips part. Dominic’s breath is warm on the back of my neck, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“Turn around,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear.
I hesitate. If I turn around, I’ll be so close to him. Face to face. Chest to chest. Will he kiss me? Or better yet, will I kiss him? Impulse control has never been one of my strongest qualities.
“Turn around, Dakota.”
My name in his voice is a siren’s call to my libido. I do as I’m told. Spin slowly, carefully. Ever so aware of the tiny sliver of space between our bodies, charged with heat and desire. Dominic is smiling down at me. Without a word, he leans in. Craning his neck to bring his mouth to mine. My lips part. My chest is heaving. My body thrumming and throbbing with excitement. I close my eyes.
His lips never touch mine but I can feel how close they are. Our breath mingles. It’s like electricity racing against the delicate flesh of my lips. I open my eyes. Consider reaching up, closing the distance, forcing the kiss. He turns his face and I turn mine. He brings his hands to my hips, again, a touch that’s just barely a touch. The tiniest bit of contact that is somehow more powerful than if he had grabbed me and crushed my body to his, his mouth to mine. These delicate whispers create a need in me, a flame I won’t be able to ignore until I have more of him.
“Am I that man?” he asks, his lips moving against mine, fanning the flames. “That man you’ll give control to?”
I want to answer, but I’m struck dumb by this man. For the first time in my life, I’m speechless. I lean in, almost without knowing, needing to feel the warmth of his mouth on mine.
“Answer me, Dakota.”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate. I give him the answer that should embarrass me. The answer that is so unlike me but so very true because I’m sure that as soon as I do, he’ll end this delicious torture and kiss me.
Dominic pulls away and if disappointment had a face, it would be mine. “Good,” he says and takes off walking, leaving me in a big heap of lustful, wet-pantied confusion. “Come on,” he says with a little jerk of his head and damn if I don’t scamper after him.
We walk for a bit in silence, pausing every now and then for Dominic to take a picture. At first the pictures are of the trees. A flower. A close up of a moss covered rock on the bank of a small creek. But more and more often, he takes pictures of me.
“Put your hands in your hair,” he says when he has me leaning on a tree.
“Look down,” he says
Similar Books
