couldn’t breathe, certainly didn’t have the willpower to resist.
She wanted Lijah to kiss her. Wanted so much more than kisses. Had been wanting them—him, for hours now.
She expected his kiss to be hard and demanding. Instead, his hands moved to cup either side of her face as he tilted it up toward his and those chiseled lips claimed hers in soft exploration. Testing her response as he sipped and tasted, giving a low groan in his throat when her lips parted tentatively beneath his and her hands glided up the warmth of his chest, fingers grasping hold of his muscled shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she silently pleaded for more.
Maddeningly, he continued those slow and tempting kisses as the heavy weight of his erection pressed and rubbed against her, his hips arched into hers.
“Lijah, please,” she pleaded between those frustrating kisses that really were only that starter he had suggested, a promise of what was to come.
His teeth nipped at her jawline. “You haven’t said yes yet,” he reminded, voice dark and smoky from his restrained desire.
They could eat, or they could fuck.
It was an offer so raw, so utterly basic, and with absolutely no suggestion of his ever wanting anything else from her. Lijah wasn’t even asking for her to like him, only that she want and desire him.
The desire was a given. And she did want him. Over her. Inside her. Claiming her. Pounding into her relentlessly as he took them both into mind-numbing, pleasure-filled oblivion.
She needed this.
She needed Lijah.
“Yes or no, Callie,” he encouraged throatily, gaze holding hers as his hands moved slowly down and then up her sides to hold the weight of her breasts in his palms, fingers caressing, finding and then gently squeezing her hard and aching nipples.
The pleasure of those caresses shot directly to her core, the lips of her labia swelling, relaxing in readiness for him as they became slick with her juices—
“No.” Lijah was the one to groan in harsh protest.
“What?” Callie looked up at him in bewilderment as he straightened abruptly, his expression bleak, the lust having faded from those dark indigo eyes. “What’s wrong? I didn’t say no. I didn’t say anything!” To her shame, her voice broke emotionally as Lijah stepped away from her, removing his reassuring heat and the promised pleasure in that hard, aroused body.
“Didn’t you hear someone’s banging on the fucking door?” Anger darkened his face as he turned to glare in the direction of the door through which they had entered the warehouse earlier. A door within the much bigger door that had obviously once moved up to allow deliveries into the warehouse.
Callie hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door. She hadn’t been aware of anything except Lijah and the pleasure of having his hands, lips, and eyes on her.
“Stay here,” Lijah directed distractedly, glaring his displeasure as he turned to stride toward the door.
No one—absolutely no one—came here. No one was ever invited here. No one was allowed to come here.
But someone was definitely daring to invade his privacy. Lijah felt so pissed, he wanted to open the door and rip the head off the shoulders of whoever was standing out there.
And not just because they shouldn’t be here.
His cock was once again pounding in a painful, demanding rhythm. He had been so close, so damned close to carrying Callie upstairs to his bedroom, and now this.
Whatever—whoever, this was.
He wrenched the door open with such aggression and a scowl on his face that the man standing outside took an instinctive step back. “Who the hell are you?” Lijah growled in challenge.
The man wore a nondescript dark suit and plain white shirt with a neatly knotted dark tie, which did absolutely nothing to lessen the bulging muscles beneath.
Lijah knew he had never set eyes on this man before.
The other man seemed to gather himself together as he straightened. “I’m Mr. Wynter’s chauffeur.
She wanted Lijah to kiss her. Wanted so much more than kisses. Had been wanting them—him, for hours now.
She expected his kiss to be hard and demanding. Instead, his hands moved to cup either side of her face as he tilted it up toward his and those chiseled lips claimed hers in soft exploration. Testing her response as he sipped and tasted, giving a low groan in his throat when her lips parted tentatively beneath his and her hands glided up the warmth of his chest, fingers grasping hold of his muscled shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she silently pleaded for more.
Maddeningly, he continued those slow and tempting kisses as the heavy weight of his erection pressed and rubbed against her, his hips arched into hers.
“Lijah, please,” she pleaded between those frustrating kisses that really were only that starter he had suggested, a promise of what was to come.
His teeth nipped at her jawline. “You haven’t said yes yet,” he reminded, voice dark and smoky from his restrained desire.
They could eat, or they could fuck.
It was an offer so raw, so utterly basic, and with absolutely no suggestion of his ever wanting anything else from her. Lijah wasn’t even asking for her to like him, only that she want and desire him.
The desire was a given. And she did want him. Over her. Inside her. Claiming her. Pounding into her relentlessly as he took them both into mind-numbing, pleasure-filled oblivion.
She needed this.
She needed Lijah.
“Yes or no, Callie,” he encouraged throatily, gaze holding hers as his hands moved slowly down and then up her sides to hold the weight of her breasts in his palms, fingers caressing, finding and then gently squeezing her hard and aching nipples.
The pleasure of those caresses shot directly to her core, the lips of her labia swelling, relaxing in readiness for him as they became slick with her juices—
“No.” Lijah was the one to groan in harsh protest.
“What?” Callie looked up at him in bewilderment as he straightened abruptly, his expression bleak, the lust having faded from those dark indigo eyes. “What’s wrong? I didn’t say no. I didn’t say anything!” To her shame, her voice broke emotionally as Lijah stepped away from her, removing his reassuring heat and the promised pleasure in that hard, aroused body.
“Didn’t you hear someone’s banging on the fucking door?” Anger darkened his face as he turned to glare in the direction of the door through which they had entered the warehouse earlier. A door within the much bigger door that had obviously once moved up to allow deliveries into the warehouse.
Callie hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door. She hadn’t been aware of anything except Lijah and the pleasure of having his hands, lips, and eyes on her.
“Stay here,” Lijah directed distractedly, glaring his displeasure as he turned to stride toward the door.
No one—absolutely no one—came here. No one was ever invited here. No one was allowed to come here.
But someone was definitely daring to invade his privacy. Lijah felt so pissed, he wanted to open the door and rip the head off the shoulders of whoever was standing out there.
And not just because they shouldn’t be here.
His cock was once again pounding in a painful, demanding rhythm. He had been so close, so damned close to carrying Callie upstairs to his bedroom, and now this.
Whatever—whoever, this was.
He wrenched the door open with such aggression and a scowl on his face that the man standing outside took an instinctive step back. “Who the hell are you?” Lijah growled in challenge.
The man wore a nondescript dark suit and plain white shirt with a neatly knotted dark tie, which did absolutely nothing to lessen the bulging muscles beneath.
Lijah knew he had never set eyes on this man before.
The other man seemed to gather himself together as he straightened. “I’m Mr. Wynter’s chauffeur.
Similar Books
