“You know this color lipstick is my favorite,” he said. His fingertip swept the seam of her lips and made them tingle. “It’s distracting. Is that why you wore it? So you could distract me?”
She’d forgotten she was wearing ruby red lipstick. In truth he preferred her to be au naturale, but when she wasn’t his favorite color lipstick was ruby red. He said the color gave her lips a fullness and plumpness which turned her mouth into an invitation, begging to be kissed.
“I didn’t wear it for you,” she said.
He took her hand, and a shiver of awareness raced up her arm. He ran the blunt tip of his thumb over the spot where her rings used to be. Her pulse started to dance, faster and faster. “One little kiss, Dani.” He pressed his lips to the back of her fingers.
The inside of her belly trembled, as if a family of moths had taken up residence there. He pulled her closer, and she went to him with little resistance. She was shaking. She wanted him to kiss her. Badly.
One hand went to her back and trailed up and down her spine in a slow caress. Despite his cold, cruel nature in business, Cyrus was a sensual man and a master of seduction.
He drew her closer until she pressed against him. He was semi-erect, fitting because she was semi-wet.
Against the stimulus of his hard chest, her nipples pebbled and her breathing became shallow. She felt his hard strength and fought the reaction the best she could, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.
His labored breathing could be heard in the quiet room. “Do you know how long it’s been since you left me?” he asked. “Three years, one month, eighteen days.”
Her heart pounded, echoing in her ears. He’d kept track, even down to the day?
“And five hours,” he added.
Her lips parted in shock.
“I know exactly how long you’ve been gone, and it’s been even longer since we’ve made love,” he said. “One little kiss, Dani.” His breath brushed her mouth and created a tingling sensation across the skin of her lips. “One little kiss for your husband.”
It wouldn’t be one little kiss. She knew it and was certain he did, too. He would consume her, because that’s what he did. She lost all sense of the present and time when caught up in his arms.
Cyrus lowered his head, and in the next instant their lips fused together. This kiss was different from the one at the restaurant. It was tender, even affectionate, and Daniella leaned in, enjoying the flavor of him way too much. She held onto his biceps, the power and strength of his arms sending little darts of pleasure along her spine.
Engulfed in the thrill of touching him again, she was unable to move away, and she certainly didn’t want to. His lips were warm, and little by little he increased the pressure against hers. The hand at her back dipped to her backside and tightened. She gasped into his mouth, the blossom of heat invading her thighs.
When he lifted his head, she felt bereft, and he must have felt it too, because his nostrils flared and he groaned—the sound in the back of his throat so low she almost didn’t hear it. Need flashed in his half-closed eyes. He dipped his head again and heaven help her, she lifted her mouth to meet his and parted her lips for his invasion.
A few seconds before there had been no tongue, just their lips meeting, reacquainting with each other. This time, his tongue foraged into her mouth and the arm around her waist tightened, drawing her even closer against the swelling hardness of him.
“Damn, I love kissing you,” he muttered. He wasn’t only concerned about his own needs. He wanted to make sure she enjoyed it, too. He was amazingly thorough, and oh-so-good at it. Just like he was at everything else.