Page 11 of The Trouble with Flings

He brings his lips a whisper away from mine. His grin is utterly sinful, his eyes holding me captive as he says, “That’s my good girl.”

His words ignite me from the inside out.

I barely have time to process those sensations when a faster song comes on, with a Latin beat that pulses through me. Fitz steps back just enough to let me move, and I feel the heat of his gaze like a second skin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, so I match his seductive energy. Turning my back to him, I give myself over to the music, raising my arms and swaying my hips close to his, knowing he feels my body heat.

He grips my hips, pulling my back against his chest. I feel his fraying restraint in the press of his fingers, his hot, ragged breath on my neck. We move to the beat together, and I tip my head back against his shoulder, losing myself in the feel of him. His mouth finds my neck without warning, and I inhale sharply. He smiles against my skin. His hands are unhurried, moving over my hips, up my stomach and ribs, then back down again, and somehow that’s even more overwhelming than urgency would be. His thumbs trace slow circles at my hips, while the beat drives us, and the warm night air presses in around us until everything else falls away.

There’s only this, us, his chest against my back, his breath on my neck, and the combustible heat between us growing impossibly hotter with every move.

He turns me in his arms, pushing his thigh between mine again, his piercing eyes boring into me. My hands curl into his chest. The song drives on, but we slow down, dancing to a beat all our own.

By the time the song ends, I’m breathing faster than the dancing warrants, and we both know it. I feel every point of contact, his hand at my back, his other hand holding mine against his chest, his heartbeat fast beneath my palm.

His lips find my temple, but he doesn’t kiss me. He taunts, his warm breath coasting over my skin. I try to lean into it, but he keeps that minuscule distance in place.

“Not yet,” he whispers authoritatively, anticipation making my every nerve feel like live wires. His thumb moves along my back in one slow stroke, and I feel it travel the length of my spine. I close my eyes, reveling in it.

I am so far from the woman who walked onto this boat three hours ago telling herself she had everything under control that I’m not even sure who she was.

The song that comes on next is all thundering bass and impatience. Everyone around us starts dancing faster, talking louder, as if they were just waiting to be set free. I respond, too, falling into the rhythm of it, because if I don’t, I’m afraid I’m going to go up in flames.

Fitz’s jaw is tight, his eyes as dark as night, and he watches me for exactly three seconds before he takes my hand, heading off the dance floor and descending the stairs without slowing down.

I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I’d go anywhere with him right now.

He leads me to a dark area on a lower deck, on the side of the yacht. The air is warm and thick with the scent of the ocean and the lust between us. The lights of the coastline are closer. We must be heading back toward the marina.

I grab the railing, breathing deeply to try to take the edge off, but his arms circle me from behind, and he kisses my neck. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his mouth on my skin. His kisses are feathery light, then brutally hard. I grip the railing tighter as he grazes his teeth along the curve of my neck, sending scintillating sensations raining down over me.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” he rasps.

“Don’t,” I warn, knowing what his words do to me.

“Those sounds you make when my mouth is on your pussy,” he says, ignoring my warning.

My body floods with desire.

“The way you try to keep them in at first,” he says, one hand moving down to my thigh, the other sliding up to cup my breast. “But you can’t, because the pleasure is too intense.”

“Fitz,” I pant out, rocking my hips as he squeezes my thigh.

“I love hearing you say my name like that, full of want.” He nips at my jaw, and I gasp again. “I intend to make you say it just like that many times before this week is over.”

A needy sound slips out, and I hate that he has this control over me, but I get off on it even more. I crave it. He is the only man who has ever made me feel this way.

“Good girl. I want to hear all of those sounds.” He sinks his teeth into my neck, rocking his hips forward.

I feel every hard inch of him, biting back the greedy sounds trying to escape because I know it’ll get us both even more on edge.

“Touch me,” he demands. “Feel what you do to me.”

I don’t hesitate. Reaching behind myself, I palm his rock-hard cock, squeezing tight.

“Remember how well you took my cock in your mouth?” he taunts.

“Yes—” rushes from my lungs. “I want to do it again.”

“You will. When I’m good and ready.” He slips his hand beneath my dress, pushing his thick fingers into my panties. “Mm. You’re nice and wet for me. I ought to bend you over this railing and fuck you so hard, they hear you scream my name on the mainland.”