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“Do you invite many of your friends over for weekend visits?” She says it with a hint of attitude, but her sassiness drops away and her hands start fidgeting.“Actually. Don’t answer that.”
I finally let myself touch her again, sliding my hand onto her lap, over hers. Reaching between each finger, I hold on, steadying her. I feel steadier while touching her too, I’m surprised to discover, but the touch ignites us both.
“No. I don’t make a habit of inviting ‘friends’ to stay the night.” My other hand moves behind her neck. “Not female ones, anyway.”
She swallows and bites that damn lip again.
Chari’s hair is as soft as I’d imagined. I let my fingers roam a bit before resting them on her neck, pulling her closer.
“And I suppose you don’t treat them to a two-thousand-dollar dinner either.”
I laughed in the car when she looked up our restaurant and found the price of the table online. She chastised me for not inviting two more people since the cost is the same for two or four. As if I would have shared her with anyone tonight.
“Sixteen hundred dollars,” I correct her.
Just a few more inches. It’s like we’re moving in slow motion, each movement charged with anticipation. With desire.
“Can I kiss you, Chari?” I ask out of respect.
I ask, praying for the answer I need.
I ask because I know this kiss will change everything.
“Please do.”
12
Chari
This entire night has been like something out of a movie. It can’t be my real life. Just a temporary fake one, culminating with the most gorgeous man on the planet asking to kiss me. Is he serious right now?
I can’t believe this is happening.
As he pulls me the remaining distance toward him, I find myself wondering if I’ll remember how to kiss properly. I can’t seem to do anything else right tonight, stumbling along in this borrowed life. In this dream world. But when his lips finally touch mine, I’m no longer worried.
Passion takes over, my lips parting, my head slanting for better access. I barely have time to get accustomed to the feel of him when his tongue touches mine, gently at first. I can’t help but groan at the feel of him.
Enzo DeLuca knows how to kiss.
Because of course he does.
Before long, his touch is no longer gentle. No longer exploratory. It’s more insistent now, and I’m ready to give as well as take. Neither of his hands have moved, but I want them to. I want him to touch me everywhere at once.
It’s taken exactly ten seconds for this kiss to spiral out of control.
“Chari,” he whispers, his voice molten lava against my ear. Kissing that too, Enzo pushes hair back from my shoulder. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first walked into that bar last weekend.”
He trails kisses down my neck and onto my shoulder, leaving me a puddle on his couch. I knew he would be a good kisser. But not this good. Part of me wants to take this slowly so I can remember everything about it, about him, but the rest of me just wants more.
With my free hand, I reach around to grab a handful of hair, to push him . . . where? He can’t be everywhere at once.
“You taste like coconut,” he murmurs. “So fucking perfect.”
His words send a bolt of longing through me, and I run my hands through his thick black hair the way I’ve wanted to do since, well, forever. Pulling back just slightly, I think I’m regaining control of myself, of my senses, when he takes the hint and kisses me again.
Hard.
His mouth covers mine until I can’t breathe. And I don’t want to if it means this kiss has to end. If it could go on forever, I’d welcome it. But now I’m too distracted by his other hand, which has let go of mine and is currently sliding up my leg.
