Bait (Wake, #1)(74)

He wore a perfectly tailored suit and looked so masculine in profile. It fit to his tight body in magical ways. His hair was tamed back with that miracle product he used to make it look controlled, and in the light, I could see the front was beginning its rebellion, loosening and falling forward more than it should.

He looked like a king. King Casey.

He closed the door gently and pocketed his hand into his slacks making the fabric taught over his already visible bulge.

I licked my lips.

I wanted another shot, but I didn't dare move.

His blue eyes glittered from the lick of the flames behind me.

The song changed. I recognized it within the first few chords. The single guitar. The arpeggio. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.

I swallowed. Eyeing him standing there, looking at me, the beautiful confusion of it all made my mouth water.

His eyes wandered over me like a search light, both warning and guiding my body home.

He walked toward me and I started forward to meet him halfway, but he held a hand up and stopped where he was when we were still feet apart.

“You look like my wildest dream.” His perfect hand still hung in the air. “Let me look you at you little more. This memory has to last me long time, honeybee.” He pandered his time. I watched him examine every detail of me. I thought I'd feel self-conscious, but the opposite happened.

I was proud, and having him take the time to look at every one of the things I'd done to get his attention felt so gratifying. I had prayed that at least one would capture his interest.

The corners of his lips quirked when his eyes shifted focus down toward my garter clips. He faked coolness by biting his bottom lip, but he didn't fool me.

Finally, he said, “Come here.”

My right leg, my left leg and I, we all went to him together. My entire body working on its own. It was so easy.

“Wait, one more thing,” he interjected. Then did the international sign for spin-it-a-around, his smile bleeding through every feature on his face. His eyes looked like neon in the darkness.

I did a slow twirl, looking over my shoulder on my way back around. I batted my eyes to get a reaction.

“You look like the definition of temptation.” His eyes squinted and he pantomimed a come-here head nod. God, his claws were sunk so deep into me. If I looked like temptation, he looked precisely capable of charming-the-pants-off the Queen of England.

With my shoes, the height brought my eyes to his lips, my favorite latitude on planet Earth.

He ran a hand over my hair and pushed it behind my shoulder. “I can almost taste you, you smell that good,” he said, hushed. “You did all of this for me?”

“I did.” I was fixated on his mouth. I wanted to put my lips on him. I wanted to touch and undress him, but this was his show and I was only too happy letting him run it. The energy coming off him was palpable.

“Do you know how hard I am? I don't know if you considered my lack of restraint when it comes to you this close to me.” His hands grazed way down my arms. “What is all of this?”

“I wanted to do something for you.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “I want to make you happy. I want to be your Valentine.” I took a deep breath, the anticipation of his body hot against mine at the forefront of my thoughts. “Open me.”

Ten fingers rushed my face and his lips crushed mine. Then he lifted me into the air. Eye to eye. Mouth to mouth. His arms wrapped around me and held me close. Mine went straight into his hair, my fingers spreading to get a grip on my unavoidable man.

“You taste like the night we met,” I heard him say.

He walked us farther into the room, me in his arms, our mouths tasting one another, his tongue circling mine to a beat unheard before.

I let my head fall to his neck and I opened my mouth to wet him with kisses, inhaling his scent—earthy and masculine and something sweet and only him.

The music changed again, but at that time, I couldn't tell you what the song was.

When my feet touched the floor again, his hands were urgent. He undid the bow where my robe tied in the front and he pushed the silk off my shoulders. The fabric easily slid off me.

The look in his eyes was feral. “Look at you. You're trying to kill me, aren't you?” He teased as his hands found my breasts and cupped me. Like he couldn't decide what he wanted to touch, he roamed me. Over the tight trussed-up corset, around to my ass, and back in quick succession.

“I’ve missed you. I know I'm not good to you and I'm sorry,” I said, not knowing where the words were coming from.

With a finger over my mouth he said, “Shhh. I'm a big boy. I can handle it.”

He was right. He did handle it, but what I didn't know was how. I could barely manage.

He continued, “You're my Valentine. Tonight you're mine. Understand me? Even your thoughts.” He caressed my cheek. “Don't think about anything but me. That's what I want. I'm going to take everything you're wearing off. I'm going to touch every inch of you with my mouth. And I'm not going to pretend this is just a fling tonight, like I've done every time. For one night, I want you to pretend like it's me you're promised to,” his thumbs ran over my lips, “Mine to care for and adore. Say yes to me. Even if it is only for tonight. Please?”

His words came honest. I knew he didn't always say what he felt, because of me. Because I fought my feelings hard and so, battled his as well.