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“Thank you.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, revealing the length of her neck. The neck he still wanted to kiss his way down. “For the dress, for the night out, for the music, for everything.”
“You look beautiful.” Bronze silk the color of her eyes glistened next to her pale golden skin. The dress skimmed over her slight figure, peaking over her nipples. She glowed like a goddess risen from the molten depths of the earth.
The copper in her eyes blazed when her mouth curved in a knowing smile and she took a step forward, slipping her hand into his. He had called her Helen of Troy. A siren. Some temptress risen from the deep to test him on his journey through life. But then he’d seen her at Healthy Food, smiling and teasing the regulars, and with his mom, taking care of her. And now he knew she was more Penelope than Lorelei. Underestimated for her cleverness and resourcefulness, like Penelope, using tricks to keep her unwanted suitors at bay. Her femininity and softness made her a tougher character, not a weaker one as a less confident man might think.
Her dress rustled when he tugged her close to him. He lifted one hand to her face and ran it down the length of her neck to smooth the stiff neckline of her dress away from her collarbone. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He could sweep the dress completely off her shoulders and worship at her breasts until his body burst into lava. He could melt with her.
He bent to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, just once, feeling her heart beat against his lips, and someone moaned. “I could barely pay attention to the opera, wondering what your skin tasted like.”
“Liar.” She tilted her head to the side in offering, and he didn’t hesitate. When he licked the line of her clavicle she gasped and lifted herself up onto her toes. “I was sitting right next to you. You were entranced.”
“I’m a good actor.” He slid one hand down to grasp her butt. Silk slipped under his fingers as he lifted her leg up, pulling her so that his erection was settled against her belly and she had to rely on him to stand. He was beyond want; he needed her. He needed her to need him.
She righted her head and turned her eyes on him, her lips opening in invitation. He would be engulfed in flames if he didn’t kiss her lips. Still…
“You don’t have to do this.” He’d said similar words once before, and that night had ended with him taking a cold shower, but the words needed to be said again. “The dress, the opera—none of that has a price.”
“I want to.” She hadn’t finished her sentence before he finally felt the lush softness of her lips melt under his.
* * *
KARL SLIPPED HIS tongue into Vivian’s mouth and all her reason disappeared, replaced with a blessed insanity and the knowledge that his cool lips burned. She thrust her hips forward, but he was too tall for her. She didn’t want the feel of dress and wool against her skin. She wanted him—his cool skin, his fine brown hairs, his hard length and lean muscles. She moaned and shifted, meeting his tongue with hers. When she ran her tongue over his bottom teeth he grunted and lifted her leg higher, pushing himself against her but still not meeting her where she pulsed with desire.
She broke the kiss. “This will never work.”
His chest rose and fell in exertion as he closed his eyes and nodded. “I understand.” His hand slipped from her butt.
She reached around to keep it there. “No.” She smiled, and the uncertainty she hadn’t even been convinced was in his eyes disappeared. “Standing. This will never work standing. Either I grow several inches or you shrink.”
He pulled back enough to sweep her into his arms. “It’ll be more expedient if I carry my wife across the threshold—any threshold.”
She tilted her head back and allowed herself to be a princess, swept off her feet into the arms of a waiting prince. A fairy tale of a girl plucked from daily toils and lifted into a castle tower. There was no question of whether she deserved this—all women deserved to be swept away at least once in their lives.
A down comforter embraced her when he set her gently on his bed. She’d not been in his bedroom before. Two weeks of living in his apartment and she’d never been willing to broach the doorway and invade his privacy. Now she was too overcome by his hand running down the length of her body and hiking up the skirts of her dress to do more than notice that his pillows smelled like his shaving cream. Desire coursed through her body, and she lifted her arms over her head to give the craving an escape. All she succeeded in doing was speeding up her heart rate.
