Page 63 of Naughty Heart

I stared up at him, my lips parting slightly. I wanted this. I wanted Malcolm’s kiss more than anything else in the world right now. “So, do it. Kiss me like you want to kiss me.”

Something washed over him, his expression looking a mix of excitement, determination, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I might have been able to figure out what it was if I had more time, but Malcolm didn’t give me the chance. He leaned his head down and gently brushed his lips against mine.

It was everything I could do not to whimper. The tenderness in that touch had my belly trembling as my knees got weak. He’d barely done anything yet, and I was already a mess.

Malcolm lifted a hand to the side of my face, drove his fingers back into my hair, and settled them at the base of my skull, his grip firmly in my hair. With a gentle tug, he tilted my head back to give him better access, then he claimed my mouth completely.

Gone was the featherlight touch of his lips against mine. Malcolm crushed his lips against mine, forcing a moan up my throat.

I held on tight, my knuckles likely turning white at the grip I had on him.

The moment his tongue swept into my mouth to taste me, I knew I was in for a wild ride. Because Malcolm could kiss.

Even with my limited experience, I didn’t doubt his capabilities. He was extraordinary, and I wanted more.

When he tore his mouth from mine and looked down at me, both of us struggling to regain control of our breathing, his eyes roamed over my face in a way that felt primal. Like carnal urges were at play, and he was waging a battle with himself.

Not wanting him to hold back, desperate for him to give me whatever he wanted to give, I begged, “Take me to my room, Malcolm.”

That was it.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Malcolm took half a step back, released my hair, and took my hand in his. Then he took me to my room.

We’d barely made it through the door when he turned me around and backed me up against the door, pressing his solid body into mine as he captured my mouth in a bruising kiss once more.

I kissed him back, taking everything he was giving me and seeking more. And when the first groan crawled up his throat, the need for him only grew stronger.

My head dropped back against the door; Malcolm’s mouth moved along my jaw and down the side of my throat.

“Malcolm,” I breathed.

He nipped at the skin on my neck, growled, and lifted me clean off the floor before he turned and moved through the suite toward the bedroom.

If everything that had happened all week long and throughout the earlier part of the evening tonight had been about the buildup, what happened next was all about the reward. Malcolm might have taken his time bringing us to this point, but he was no longer interested in taking it slow.

“Turn around, darling,” he ordered after he set me down on my feet in front of him and shrugged off the jacket of his suit so he could toss it aside.

A shiver ran along my spine at the sound of that endearment. Darling. Malcolm Westwood had just called me darling.

If he continued to do that, I’d do anything he wanted. But it was hard not to take my eyes off the sight in front of me. Malcolm had loosened his tie and began working his hands at the cuffs of his sleeves. After he’d rolled one sleeve up and moved to the other, he urged, “Evelyn, darling, please turn around.”

The words indicated he was asking nicely, but there was an edge of impatience in his tone.

Wanting to please him, wanting whatever he was gearing himself up to do with his beautiful forearms now on display, I honored his request and spun around.

A moment later, I felt his knuckles brush up against the skin on my back as he began unzipping my dress. When it reached the bottom, he brought his hands to the straps at my shoulders and peppered kisses along the skin there while he urged the straps down my arms.

The gorgeous red material pooled at my feet, leaving me there in nothing but a pair of lacy panties. Malcolm stepped closer and pressed the front of his hard body into the back of mine. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered in my ear, his hands resting on my hips.

As soon as I dropped my head back to his shoulder, his hands drifted up my sides and toward my breasts. He wasted no time, squeezing them in his hands and kneading the flesh before stroking his thumbs over my nipples.

I whimpered, my legs buckling while my hands reached behind me to grab hold of his thighs.

“Malcolm,” I panted.