“Here. There. Everywhere. But only if it’s legal.”
“The things you to do my body are clearly illegal, so I think we’ve already violated all the clauses.”
“Gorgeous, there are so many more ways I want to violate you. I’ll never stop wanting to infringe on morals when it comes to your sinful body,” he said, then licked a path from her collarbone, up to her ear, and she purred, her arousal ratcheting higher.
She pointed to the bar. “Go over there. Pretend you’re a stranger.”
“I’ll see if I can find the hottest woman here.”
“You do that.”
He let go of her and walked away. He leaned against the bar, scanning the club, ably playing the part of a single man cruising for chicks. She watched him as his eyes drifted across the sea of bodies, writhing and twisting, tangling and untangling, then landed on hers.
They locked eyes, and she kept her gaze fixed on him as she danced alone. She ran a hand through her hair, then shook out her red strands around her face. Moving her right hand to her br**sts, she let it travel through her cle**age, down her belly, and then to the top of her skirt. She danced, a sexy, subtle dance for him and her fingers splayed across her stomach, the tips of them precariously close to dipping under her skirt. He never stopped watching her, and she thrilled at his reaction, at the way his eyes were only on her, at the lusty look in them. He stalked across the dance floor, and yanked her against him.
“Hey stranger, I’m thinking pretty seriously about taking you to that dark alcove in the corner, and showing you what I can do with my hands.” He tipped his forehead to the corner of the club where tall windows looked out on the terrace, home to more dancing, drinking, and sweating. Each window was framed by an arch, giving the tiniest bit of privacy if you wedged yourself in just right.
“Show me,” she said, and let him guide her to the farthest one.
He boxed her in, resuming their position from the dance floor. The lower half of her body was hidden by the wall below the window, the upper half visible against the glass to anyone on the balcony who cared to look at the lovers pretending to be strangers. He rubbed his erection against her rear, then slipped his hand around her waist, his fingers inching under her blouse, spreading over her belly. She drew a sharp breath. “Since I’ve never touched you before, I’m not sure how you like it. I’m going to have to try different things.”
“I’m all for experimentation,” she said as he traced soft, lazy lines over her belly, knowing full well that she loved it when he touched her stomach.
“What about this then?” he said, drawing a path up to her br**sts. “Is there any chance you like having your br**sts touched?”
“As a matter of fact, I like it when my man f**ks them.”
He growled in her ear and slammed his hips against her. “And what about this?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, tapping them against her underwear. “I don’t suppose you’re a fan of manual stimulation?”
“I’m quite fond of it, as a matter of fact. I did it to myself this afternoon.”
He inhaled sharply, breathing hard against her neck, his arms tightening around her. He’d be reaching that point she craved soon, all heat and tension and palpable need for her. She loved that he was like this. That he still wanted her as much today as he had the night they’d met. “Will you still want me this much in a year?” she whispered, letting go of their play.
“I thought we were strangers,” he said.
She shook her head, shedding the role-play. “I don’t want to be strangers with you.”
“Good. Because I don’t either. I want to be the man who knows you,” he said, his voice gentle, his touch tender as he brushed his lips against her neck.
“I like it better like this,” she said, letting him hear the vulnerability in her voice, in her heart. “I love that you know me. I love that you know my body, and my heart, and my mind.”
“I love knowing you, Julia,” he said, cupping her cheek and turning her face so he could look her in the eyes. “I love that we’re not strangers. That we’re not uncertain. That we’re not on opposite coasts anymore.”
“That we’re together,” she added, flashing him a smile that wasn’t sexy or naughty or wicked. That was simply true, like all she felt for him.
“Always,” he added. “I want to be the man who loves you always.”
“I want to be loved by you always,” she said, and her heart skipped ten thousand beats. They were treading near the territory that she desperately wanted. She’d hoped so hard that he’d propose this weekend, and while she knew he wasn’t about to get down on one knee in a nightclub, her heart filled with joy at how he promised—so easily—to love her always. He brushed a thumb over her lips, and she swore she could see forever in his eyes.
“You will be,” he whispered, and she knew that he meant every word, that he would love her like this—deeply, passionately, truly—for their whole lives. He closed his eyes and fused his mouth to hers in a slow kiss that turned her knees to jelly. Equal parts desire and love surged through her as her stomach flipped wildly.
He took his time kissing her, his lips lingering on hers, savoring her mouth, lapping at her tongue. She moaned softly, and he broke the kiss. “Always,” he added. He ran his hand down the fabric of her blouse and she shivered against him.
“God, you make me feel so good. Everything you do turns me on, Clay. When you tell me you want to f**k me it turns me on, and when you tell me you love me, it turns me on,” she said as the loud music pulsed around them, and club-goers danced on the balcony. But the lights were dim, the corner was dark, and he was all that mattered to her.
“I love you and I want to f**k you,” he said as his fingers skipped past her belly and down the front of her skirt.
“Mmmm,” she murmured, a thrill racing through her, and turning into heat between her legs. “Like that. That turned me on.”
“Let me check,” he said, slinking his hand up the inside of her thigh, and flicking it once against the cotton panel of her panties.
“Oh God,” she gasped even as he took his touch away.
“You love being touched, don’t you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. It was the full truth.
“By you. Touch me more, please,” she said, her voice shaky with want. She felt like she’d disintegrate if he didn’t touch her right now.