Cuff Me(69)

Jill squirmed, but he tightened his grip, keeping her hips anchored against his.

Truth be told, he’d never really understood the appeal of kissing before now. It was nice, certainly, but merely the precursor to bigger and better things.

But kissing Jill—kissing Jill felt like the main event. Not that he wanted it to be the main event—he wanted other things, definitely.

Wanted to peel off her robe, wanted to hear what kind of sounds she made when he touched her. Wanted to know if she liked it gentle or rough, playful or intense.

But for right now—right now, it was enough to feel her tongue against his, taste her lips, to feel the way their breath mingled together as they fought for the same air.

Jill’s fingers released their grip on his jacket, only to wiggle underneath as she tried to pull it off. She let out a little sound of frustration when it got caught on his shoulders, and he smiled at the realization that her urgency matched his.

He released her, pulling back just enough to yank the jacket off, their mouths never losing contact as he tossed it blindly aside.

Vin felt Jill’s fingers go for the sash of her robe, but his fingers manacled her wrists, winding them around behind her as he walked her backward into the wall.

“Not yet,” he whispered against her mouth.

He wanted to see her. All of her. But he’d waited a f*cking long time for this. No way was she going to rush him through it.

She tugged at her wrists, but he held firm as he deepened the kiss until they were both breathless and writhing.

Jill’s wrists were small enough for him to hold with one hand as the other slid up her side, his palm just barely skimming the outer curve of her breast before very lightly wrapping around the base of her neck as he pulled his mouth back from hers.

“Tell me you want this,” he said roughly.

She let out a little laugh, her eyes cloudy. “Isn’t it obvious?”

His fingertips pressed against her lightly and he saw her eyes flare with passion. Interesting.

“Don’t play games with me, Henley.”

In response she went on her toes and licked his bottom lip. Vincent growled, stamping a hard kiss over her mouth before pulling back once more.

“Tell me. Tell me you’re done with him. Tell me you’re not marrying someone else.”

It came out as a gruff command, and he was grateful for the raspy quality of his voice. Kept him from what he really felt like doing…

Begging.

He wanted to beg Jill to be his and only his.

His tongue trailed down the soft, smooth column of her neck as she tilted back with a soft sigh.

“Tell me,” he said again, his lips moving back up her neck and coming to rest at a sensitive spot under her ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

It was more, perhaps, than he should have revealed, and for a heart-lurching moment of silence he thought he’d pushed it too far—pushed her too hard.

She pulled her face away from his, and Vin swallowed his disappointment, his fingers slowly releasing her wrists as he started to step back.

Jill pulled him back.

Her fingers came to his waist, fisting in the fabric of his T-shirt, waiting until he met her eyes.

And then she smiled. “I’m yours.”

Vincent’s breath came out on a rush as his mouth slammed down on hers once more, lifting her off her feet and slamming her backward once more toward the wall.

Jill met his urgency gasp for gasp, her strong legs wrapping around his waist as her arms locked behind his head, fusing their mouths.

He greedily explored her legs, fully exposed now by the robe that had hiked its way up around her hips.

His hands moved over her calves, fingertips brushing against the soft skin behind her knee as she made small begging noises.

His palms ran along the back of her thighs until he cupped her ass in his hands, angling her body so that the fly of his jeans rubbed against her in just the right way to make her moan.

“Please,” she whispered against his mouth as she wiggled.

It was all the invitation he needed.

He pulled her against him more fully, her small frame making it easy for him to walk them both those few crucial steps to her bedroom.

Her bedroom was a fussy, feminine affair. Lots of purple and white and flowers.

Vincent barely noticed as he dropped her none too gently on the bed and then crawled over her, caging her with his body as he stared down at her.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The sash of her robe was nearly all the way undone now, her breast inches from exposure. He’d only have to hook one finger beneath the fabric to reveal the soft skin…

Vincent lifted one hand. But instead of drifting down, his hand went up to where her hair was fanned out on the bedspread. He rubbed the blond strands between his fingertips. It felt like silk.

Her eyes drifted closed, and before he realized what he was doing, he’d leaned down and gently, reverently kissed both her closed eyelids before trailing along her high cheekbones, down over her pointy little chin, before brushing against her lips.

“Vincent.”

It was a sigh—his name was a sigh on her lips, and that’s all it took. That one simple sound, and he was lost.

His hand slid down her neck, his fingertips brushing gently against the hollow of her neck, until one finger was hooked under the lapel of her robe.

He eased slightly to his left until he was on his side, his leg still draped over both of hers, pinning her as his finger slowly pulled her robe down millimeter by millimeter, exposing her pale skin to his gaze.