Page 17 of Wicked Design
Chapter Five
Clover had never been as warm. Her condition had nothing to do with the oppressive temperature. Yearning filled her, her need deep enough to hurt and make her bolder than she’d already been with him. She hadn’t planned to strip or come on quite as strong as she did now. Somehow it seemed right.
Given her background and upbringing, ditching her clothes certainly wasn’t unusual.
She stroked Van Gogh’s achingly soft lips.
His lids fluttered. A rough groan poured from him, the sound glorious. What she hoped would mark an end to her loneliness and wanting. Unable to stop herself any longer, she dove in for a kiss.
He stilled, then slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, cutting off escape.
She wasn’t going anywhere else tonight.
They sagged to the bed. Their dinner spilled on the floor, the bags smacking, paper crackling.
Pressed close, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth. Taking, not asking. Using. Pleasuring.
No way was he shy. He freaking rocked this.
Thrilled, she suckled him deep and held tight, his shoulders hard as stone, muscles bunched. So damned masculine they stole what scant breath she had.
He angled his head right then left, seeking deeper penetration. Filling her as no other man could. Proof how perfect he was, right up there with the gods. If she could have made a sound, she might have squealed. Surrender became her only option. His hair brushed her cheeks in a gentle caress. His stubble scoured them. She welcomed the biting rasp and clasped his skull, keeping him at his task.
Their kiss grew frenzied. They rolled from side to side.
She wrapped her leg around his.
He ground his cock into her mound and grabbed her breast.
There wasn’t much for him to hold on to but he cupped the small globe, flicking his thumb over her puckered nipple.
Riotous pleasure tore through Clover, pulling soul-deep desire from her core, where she’d hidden her feelings for too long. Not anymore. This was their night to enjoy, indulge, and begin a journey she couldn’t wait to take. One she hoped wouldn’t end.
She gripped his hair and crushed her mouth against his, her teeth cutting into her bottom lip. A small price to pay for such delight.
He grunted and rolled them over, her on the bottom, him on top, pure caveman. There wasn’t a bashful bone in him now. Loving it, she devoured his mouth.
He pulled free with surprising ease, her strength no match for his.
Their panting collided with noise from the oscillating fans, vehicles rushing past, stereos playing, passersby’s laughter and conversation.
“More.” She claimed his mouth.
He tore away and gulped air. “Not now.”
“You don’t like to make out? You’re a rock star at it.”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “You are, too, but there’s other stuff we should enjoy.”
Hopefully, he wasn’t talking about dinner. “The food?”
“What? No. You. Me. This.” He ground his hips against hers.
“Get naked.”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
