“Like what?”
“Like buying American-made cars. Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Like moms and dads who dance in the kitchen after the kids have gone to bed. Like the magic of moonlight. Like babies. Like love.”
And now not only was her heart pounding and her blood running hot, but there was also a lump sitting in the middle of her throat. The things he believed in were so pure. So simple. And to hear them come out of the mouth of such a complex, mysterious man who operated every day in a complex and mysterious world just made them all the more poignant.
“I also believe in asking for what I want,” he went on, a dark, carnal gleam in his eyes. He pulled a wad of gum from his mouth and tossed it in the little trash receptacle. Uh-oh. That’s telling. A thrill skittered through her. “I’ll even ask for it nicely,” he continued, “just like you said.”
She cocked her head.
“When we were standing on the street in Cusco and you told me I’d be amazed what asking nicely would get me,” he clarified.
She swallowed. Or gulped, really. And even though her lungs were working overtime, she couldn’t catch her breath. It was like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. Where’s the mask that falls from the ceiling when a girl needs it?
“Wh-wh-wh—” Seriously? She gulped again and managed, “What do you want, Dan?”
He licked his lips, those wonderfully male lips, and caught the bottom one between his teeth. “Can’t you guess?”
“Tell me.” She wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it. It thrilled her when he said he wanted her, when he explained exactly how he planned to assuage that want.
“You, Brooklyn,” he murmured, palming the back of her neck and pulling her down until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. As always, her heart tripped over itself at the nickname. “All I want is you.”
“Tell me more,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I want to kiss you on your soft lips and suck on your wet tongue until you beg me to do the same to the tips of your breasts.”
“Yessss,” she hissed the word, closing the distance between them until… Oh! Warmth. Liquid, bold, unhesitating warmth. That was his tongue plunging into her mouth to claim and conquer, to pillage and plunder.
Dan was not a man who hesitated. About anything. And he didn’t hesitate now, kissing her like he always kissed her, kissing her like she’d never been kissed before. With an intensity that spoke of his unwavering self-assurance. He knew what she wanted, what she needed. And he knew he could give it to her. Period. End of story.
She realized then, standing there while he made love to her with his mouth so expertly that her sex grew heavy and swollen with desire, that Dan’s nickname “The Man” didn’t have anything to do with him being loyal and upstanding and filled with the kind of macho knowledge that allowed him to build a rocket ship to the moon with a paper clip, a rubber band, and some C4. Or, at least, it didn’t just have to do with those things.
He was “The Man” because, quite simply, he was a man. In every sense of the word. Domineering. Potent. Virile. Lionhearted. Powerful. And above all else, completely unafraid to be exactly who he was. To show her, no holds barred, exactly what he wanted from her, what he needed from her, what he demanded from her.
“Dan,” she murmured against his firm yet deliciously smooth lips. His breath tasted minty and fresh. “Please.”
“Please what?” he whispered back, taking a nip at her bottom lip. The sting was a challenge, as were his next words. “I told you what I want. Now you tell me what you want.”
Wetness coalesced between her thighs at the thought of what she wanted. “What you said,” she allowed.
“Tell me,” he demanded again. “Give me the words.”
The tips of her breasts stung, ached as they brushed against the lace of her bra with each breath she took. There was no room. No room to do all the things she wanted to do. But she needed something. Something he was forcing her to put into words. And it terrified as much as it titillated.
She was not as bold as Dan. Not as sure of herself. To speak her desires, her wants aloud, was admitting more than her simple physical urges. He would know how much she needed him. How much she wanted him. How much she adored him. In each and every way.
“Tell me, Brooklyn,” he husked, his eyes a hot challenge. His fingers on the back of her neck rubbing and massaging, succoring her even as the hand on her hip inched back until his fingers curved around the globe of her ass in a blatant demand. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and he wasn’t letting her go until she did as he commanded.
Well, okay then…
“I want you to take off my sweater and my bra.” Heat climbed up her neck and cheeks.