Page 8 of Tempting the Player
“Very nice,” she murmured.
He chuckled, and his lips brushed hers once more. “Well, I have to do better than nice.”
Her heart doubled its beat.
His hair brushed along the underside of her chin, soft as silk, and her fingers itched to touch them, but she didn’t dare move. Chad’s fingers had slipped through the mass of hair, and his hand was now cradling the back of her head.
There was a moment, so full of anticipation and the unknown, that Bridget’s heart stuttered, and then his mouth was against her pulse again and her body tensed tight. His lips were warm and smooth, and she got lost in the feel of them. His tongue circled the area he’d kissed, and then he moved on, trailing tiny kisses down her neck. He nipped at the skin gently, and she jerked. He repeated the tiny scrape of teeth as he went to the hollow between her neck and shoulder, chuckling against her skin when she gasped again.
“Was that very nice?” he asked.
Breathing rapidly, she squeezed her hands into fists. “It was good.”
His mouth moved against that tender spot. “You’re killing me, Bridget. We have to do better than good or nice.”
Chad’s mouth was pushing aside the wide scoop collar, exposing more skin for his oddly tender and wholly sensual explorations. He pressed a kiss to the ridge of her collarbone, and then his free hand was suddenly on her knee, his fingers slipping up under the hem of her dress, curving along her thigh, and she thought about the couple on the dance floor, of what the man’s hand was surely doing under the scrape of denim, and then she stopped thinking. She’d slipped into a world where everything was about feeling and wanting, and she uncrossed her legs.
A near animalistic sound tore from Chad’s throat, and if it had been quieter in the club, people would’ve stopped to stare. Bridget’s silent invitation must’ve had a powerful impact on him, because the grip on her lower thigh tightened, and when he kissed the space under her chin, she was scalded.
He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes did more than sear her. It caught her on fire. His hand found hers, lightly wrapping around her fingers. “I want you. I’m not going to even fuck around. I need you. Now.”
And she needed him. Her entire body had turned to liquid heat, her very veins pumping molten lava to every part of her. Never before had she had such a quick response to a man.
She wet her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue, and the blue hue of his eyes churned. Her stomach was twisting into knots and dipping, plummeting.
Chad stood, his grip not leaving her hand but not tightening. He was giving her a chance to say no. He waited.
“Yes,” Bridget said.
