“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers quietly, his voice gravely. “Because a woman shouldn’t tell a man what her fantasies are unless she wants that man to fulfill them.” He turns his head ever so slightly, so his mouth is against my ear, and I close my eyes, breathing him in, letting his scent travel through me, and relishing his closeness. Why can’t I fight this attraction to him? Whenever he gets close to me, my body starts firing on all cylinders. He draws a reaction out of me, and I can’t seem to fight it; it’s out of my control.
“I’ll tell you, though,” he continues. “I want a lady—a woman that blushes when asked to describe her fantasies. What I want is a woman that sees past the rough exterior and sees me . . . the man I am. I want a woman that trusts me to give her everything she needs; in her life and in bed.”
Then, he backs away slowly, softly dragging his face against mine as he moves, leaving me aching and stunned. He looks off and signals to our server for another round of drinks as if he didn’t just paralyze me with his words. There’s no doubt I’m buzzed, and maybe that’s contributing to all of these . . . feelings I’m feeling. But as I replay his words, one thing occurs to me. He said I shouldn’t tell a man my fantasies unless I want said man to fulfill them. But he told me his fantasies . . . or at least what he wants. Does that mean . . . Connor wants me to make his wants a reality? Or am I reading too much into this? Probably looking too much into this.
Shit.
He finally moves his gaze back to mine and has the sexiest smirk on his face. My body is wracked with nervous excitement, my mind a whirl with his words, but his dark stare captures me. It’s as if he knows what I’m feeling—what I’m thinking—and has the strength and patience to wait it out—to wait for me to tell him.
“I want to feel worshiped,” I blurt out. I’ve surprised him. His mouth falls into a flat line as he steps toward me, his eyes saying, Go on. I look to the floor, unsure of how to explain myself or what words to use without sounding like an idiot. His finger finds my chin, and he lifts my head, so I’m forced to meet his gaze again.
“You deserve to be worshiped,” he tells me, his tone certain.
I lick my lips and breathe in. I’m telling Connor Stevens my desires. In his mind, I’m telling him that he’s a part of those desires. Is that what I want? It is. I want him.
“I want to feel so loved and wanted that my body moves to a man unconsciously like we’re magnets—positive and negative. Like being in his presence draws me to him. I want to feel wanted and sexy. I want to feel like the man I’m with couldn’t even think of another woman because I give him everything he needs; because I am everything he needs.” When his hand cups my cheek as I look up at him, I can feel his body tensing. My admission is revving him up and feeling that; knowing that I’m affecting him this way, only makes me heady with courage. “I want it fast and rough and soft and slow. I want him to know me so well that he knows when to push my limits, how to read my body language even when my words are saying something else. I want to be so consumed with want and need that the world just doesn’t exist when I’m in your arms.”
His brows rise, and my cheeks flame with heat. I said your arms, not his arms. I blink rapidly, unsure of what to do. He’s so damn quiet, and it’s only intensifying my freak out. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I stand. But he doesn’t back away so when I do, we’re an inch apart.
“Sorry,” I shake my head. “I think I got a little carried away there.”
His hand threads in my hair and he presses his mouth to my forehead. “That was beautiful,” he murmurs, then meets my stare again. “Thank you for telling me.”
Lexi has a failure rate of nine out of ten when it comes to interrupting at times I might actually want her to, but on this occasion, I couldn’t be happier to have her obnoxiously break up an intense moment.
“Demi,” she yells as she grabs my hand, jerking me with her as she heads toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance.” We hit the floor, and I do my best to keep up with her, but my mind, body, and heart are all tuned into one person: Connor Stevens. I shouldn’t have told him those things. It’s wrong, and I know it is. But I can’t deny . . . it felt really good.