The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(65)

“You haven’t even touched me.” Frustration has me feeling bold and I glance over my shoulder to find he’s watching me, his expression dark.

Hungry.

“I thought we were looking at the view.” His gaze is on me, not the city spread out before us. “You want me to touch you?”

I nod.

“Are you wet?”

Shock courses through my blood, his words making me wetter. No one has ever asked me that question before.

“Well?” he urges when I haven’t answered him.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Touch yourself and show me.”

What?

I’ve never done that before either. Not for someone else.

My sexual experience is extremely limited. He might not get all of my firsts, but he’s definitely getting plenty.

He slowly approaches me again, so close I could touch him if I wanted to.

But I keep my hands on the glass, just as he said.

“Are you shy, Charlotte?”

My gaze meets his, noting the storminess in his blue eyes. I decide to be honest with him. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch you? See if you’re wet?”

Relief floods me and I nod. “Please.”

His smile is wicked. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He surrounds me from behind, his arms coming around me, one hand flat against my lower belly while the other slips beneath my skirt. His mouth is at my throat, breathing heavily against me as he slides his fingers over my mound, pausing there.

“You’re bare.”

A secret smile plays upon my lips. “I went to a spa yesterday and got the full wax treatment.”

He curses under his breath.

“Are you sore?” His fingers slip down, teasing between my lower lips.

I furiously shake my head, wanting more.

He slides those fingers deeper, sinking them into me, barely brushing my clit. A choked sound leaves me when he removes his hand, frustration coursing through my veins, making me want to stomp my foot in protest.

“Very wet.” He holds his two fingers up in front of my face, my juices glistening on his fingertips. “Want to taste?”

All the breath leaves my body and I lean back into him, nodding.

His fingers come to my mouth slowly, and a sigh leaves me when he slips them between my parted lips. I lick them, tasting myself, and he sinks them further into my mouth, until I’m sucking on them, rubbing my ass against his erection, not even aware of what I’m doing.

I’m just running on pure instinct right now.

He growls near my ear and then he’s picking me up, lifting me right off the ground as he slings my body over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. My world is upside down for a moment, my head spinning, and when he dumps me unceremoniously onto the massive king-sized bed, I fall onto the mattress, rolling over onto my back and propping myself up on my elbows so I can watch him.

Perry climbs onto the foot of the bed, his hands making quick work of my thong and removing it from around my ankles, tossing it over his shoulder so it lands on the floor. I spread my legs, giving him room to crawl up the mattress between them, the skirt of my dress pushed up around my hips, exposing me completely.

He glances down, his eyes hot as he studies the juncture between my legs and I’m half tempted to cover myself. I’ve never been waxed so completely in my life. There isn’t a single hair down there and I feel incredibly exposed.

But the gleam of appreciation in Perry’s eyes reassures me that he approves.

When his mouth finds mine, I sigh, my arms coming around his neck, my fingers toying with his too-long hair. He pushes his hips against me, the fabric of his pants rubbing against my bare skin. The friction is delicious.

Unbearable.

I don’t want him to stop.

We kiss for long, languid minutes, the kiss turning sloppier and sloppier. Until we’re thrusting against each other rhythmically, the front placket of his pants nudging against my clit, making me moan. Our mouths are wild, all tongue and teeth and sighs and moans and then his fingers are in between my thighs, stroking me there, brushing against my clit. Circling it.

“Oh God,” I choke out when he increases his speed.

And then he’s gone, climbing completely off the bed as he reaches for the front of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons. I watch in muted, frustrated fascination, my entire body throbbing with the need for release, my gaze going wide when I note the tattoos scattered all over his skin.

There are words etched in the center of his chest and I squint into the darkness, wishing I could read what it says.

But I get distracted by the bulge of his biceps muscles when he shucks the shirt off completely, and I forget all about the tattoo.

All I can do is stare at him.

“Are there more?” When he lifts his head to study me, I continue, “Tattoos.”

His smile is slow. Devilish. This is a completely different Perry than the one I’m used to. This version is bold. Serious—and hot. Demanding. I thought I wouldn’t like that sort of thing. I never thought Perry would be so bossy, or that I would find it sexy.

But I like it. I love it.

I don’t want him to stop.

“I have a few more,” he says mysteriously, his hands going for the belt buckle. He makes quick work of it, undoing it with a few flicks of his wrists, and when his pants drop to the floor, I stare at him blatantly, my gaze zeroed in on his erection thrusting forward, stretching the black cotton of his boxer briefs. A little shiver of fear moves through me.