Page 6 of Lennox Lane

Lane arched a brow. "You’ve been taking notes, Jackson?"

"On everything,” he answered with a wink as he handed her the glass, letting his fingers brush against hers, lingering a second too long, "The way you take your coffee or the face you make when Tariq tells those corny ass jokes.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“I know the spot on your neck that jumps when you're pretending you don't feel something when I’m near you,” he flirted.

Lane took the drink but didn't sip; she couldn’t. Her pulse was doing that traitorous thing again—hammering beneath her collarbone where her caftan gaped. "And what am I pretending not to feel right now?"

Lennox set his glass down before getting close enough to take hers and set it down too as he stepped into her space. He was close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough that she could smell the rum on his breath and the cedar-amber scent that had been haunting her since she walked into the villa.

"That you want me to touch you," he said. The roughness in his voice had been stripped of its usual smoothness. “That you’ve been thinking about it since Miami, but you're scared because you know if I get you, I won’t come off you."

Lane should've had a quip ready; instead, her mouth was dry, void of some sharp-edged deflection that would put him in his place and restore the power balance. Now here she stood with her body betraying her, leaning toward him like he was magnetic north.

"Then touch me," she whispered, "Or stop talking."

His mouth crashed into hers with a hunger that made her knees buckle. Lennox caught her waist and began walking her backward until her spine hit the cool stone of the villa wall. The heat of his touch mixed with the chill of the stone as night air danced on her exposed skin was the perfect contrast to make her gasp. He swallowed the sound as he kissed her deep and messy, like he'd been starving and she was his first meal in weeks.

"Let’s go," he growled against her throat as he sucked and bit, hoping to leave marks that she'd have to cover with concealer tomorrow, "Unless you want someone to see you begging me for your release against this railing."

He left Lane breathless and dizzy with lust. "Since when do you care about being seen?"

"Since I realized I won’t share you," He answered, pulling back, staring into her eyes in a way that made her stomach flip.

She didn't know what to say or if she could even speak, considering the lump that had formed in her throat—so she grabbed his hand and led him to the villa she was sharing with Nova. The moment the door clicked shut, she found Lennox all over her again, this time slower and reverent. He untied the caftan, letting it pool at her feet as his gaze raked over her like he was memorizing every dip and curve. Lane stood in nothing but a lace thong, feeling seen and undressed in a way that had nothing to do with clothes.

"Beautiful," he murmured, the word sounding like a prayer falling from his lips.

"Stop being gentle," she ordered, reaching for his shirt buttons, "I don't need gentle."

Lennox caught her wrists with a firm gentleness. "Yeah, you do. You need somebody to be soft with you, but you don't know how to ask for it," he declared, guiding her backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and her back met the mattress.

He placed Lane’s legs on his shoulders, kissing her left ankle then the right, before moving to her calf then the inside of her knee as he continued working his way up with agonizing patience while Lane's fingers twisted in the sheets and her hips rolled restlessly.

"Impatient," he observed while smiling against her thigh.

"You're teasing me,” she whined.

"I'm savoring my feast," He spoke before nipping the sensitive skin where her leg met her hip.

She gasped as her body arched off the bed.

"Something tells me nobody's ever taken their time with you. Always rushing to get to the main event, yeah?" He asked rhetorically.

Her reactions to his touch told him everything he needed to know. Lane didn't answer because he was right and she hated that he could read her so easily. Lennox hooked his fingers in her thong bikini bottom and dragged it down her legs before tossing it aside.

What he did next made her brain short-circuit—he licked the seat of her thong and moaned like it was a Michelin star meal. Thinking he couldn’t snatch her soul any more, he lifted her foot and pressed a kiss to her arch before he took her big toe into his mouth. sucking gently while swirling his tongue around it like it was the most incredible thing he'd ever tasted.

"Oh, fuck," Lane breathed.

Her whole body flushing hot. She'd had men do a lot of things to her, but never with the filthy reverence Lennox was doing it.

"You like that?" he asked as he switched to the next toe, then the next while keeping his eyes locked on hers to watch her unravel.

"Yes. God, yes."

"Good," He kissed his way up her shin, then her knee while spreading her thighs wider to settle between them, “Because I plan on making you feel everything tonight."