“You have me,” she tells me before sucking my bottom lip into her luscious mouth.
I don’t even want to admit to myself how long I’ve waited for her to say those words.
“Not yet. But I will.”
Pulling apart long enough for me to slide my key card through the slot on the door, we both take the opportunity to catch our breath.
The last thing I want to do is to rush this. I want to take my time with her, show her my passionate appreciation for every inch of her body until the sun comes up. But I’m afraid if I give her too much time to think, she’ll remember all the reasons why this is a bad idea and the past will become a roadblock we can’t overcome.
The second she steps into the room, I pin her against the wall and tear the blazer, jacket, whatever the hell it is, from her shoulders. Taking advantage of its absence, I fasten my mouth hotly to her neck. The gratifying noises she makes in response send shocks of pleasure through my chest and straight down to my dick.
“You still smell and taste like strawberries.” My tongue ventures to the sensitive spot behind her ear that always rendered her boneless in my arms. Thank fuck it still does. “Let’s see if you taste the same everywhere else, shall we?”
Either she’s cold without the jacket or my words make her shiver. I don’t take the time to ask. Instead I drop to my knees with every intention of worshipping her in this position for as long as she can stand, both literally and metaphorically speaking.
“Dallas.” There’s a wary edge to her voice. She’s afraid. I don’t blame her. I’m the furthest thing from a safe bet that there is. I’m starved for her and she has to know that by now.
“Shh. I got you, baby. Tonight, I got you.”
I can’t promise her anything beyond that and we both know it. She doesn’t protest when I hook my fingers between the lace and cotton parts of her panties and pull them down. Without a word, she watches me while stepping out of them.
“Good girl,” I murmur, placing my mouth on her bare inner thigh.
Her head lolls back, bumping gently against the wall as I tease a circle around her petite folds with my tongue. Though she’s certainly trimming a little more these days, her sweet center is nearly the same as I remember. Delicate and delicious. Her scent calls to me, awakens the possessive streak in me. I want to strip her bare and fuck her hard against the window, shouting to everyone in hearing distance that she is motherfucking mine. But that might be frowned upon by the hotel, so I do my best to smother that urge.
Each stroke of my tongue opens her wider for me until I am dead center, lashing relentlessly into her, gripping her ass with flesh-denting fingers while she calls out my name.
Fuck. Yes.
I need more of her, need her spread out on the bed for me, so I stand and lift her in my arms. Her breathless cry drives my efforts as I practically sprint to the bed. Once I’ve lowered her as gently as I can manage, I divest her of the pretty lace dress that’s been taunting me all night. Robyn must sense that my patience is wearing dangerously thin because she unhooks her bra and flings it across the room like a grenade.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I tell her, the words exiting my mouth without my permission. “It shouldn’t even be legal to look this fucking delectable naked.”
She blushes all over like I’d hoped she would and I want to lick every single flushed inch of skin. Supple breasts tipped with pale pink nipples beg me to devour them. Who am I to deny them?
My mouth descends on the left then the right, and all I can think is What does she put on her skin to make it taste so fucking sweet? I don’t often indulge in dessert but I’d help myself to an entire meal of Robyn Breeland every single day if my life allowed.
Her fingers rake hard into my hair and she uses the leverage to pull my face to hers.
“Please, Dallas. Please, now.” It’s a blatant plea and her voice is shaking.