Cupcakes and Killer Heels. Heidi Rice
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grossly manhandled in her entire life. Unfortunately, she’d never been so turned on, either.
Had he actually carried her up the stairs? Like Rhett Butler to her Scarlett O’Hara?
Of course, she didn’t find his domineering behaviour romantic in the least—because it wasn’t, in the slightest, she told herself staunchly. But there was definitely something exhilarating about a guy who could heft her up two flights of stairs. After all, she wasn’t exactly light as a feather.
And then there was the feel of him to consider, pressing against her belly as he gave her one of the biggest love bites of her life. She was so excited, her pulse points weren’t just throbbing any more, they were dancing a jig. And her nipples were so erect she could probably drill for oil with them.
As he propelled her into the bedroom she took in the terraced doors that opened onto a wrought-iron balcony overlooking the Heath. But she barely had a chance to register the dying sun turning the trees on Parliament Hill a brilliant orange before the hiss of her zipper had her whipping round.
She clasped her sagging bodice to her chest. ‘Now wait a minute!’
Oblivious to her outrage, he placed a finger on her shoulder, and gave a gentle shove. The backs of her knees hit the bed, and she toppled unceremoniously onto the pale blue duvet. She scrambled up, abandoning her grip on the bodice, which promptly fell to her waist revealing her red lace bra.
‘I told you, I don’t like to be rushed.’ She heaved out a breath, her insides going molten at the wicked glint in his eye as he knelt on the bed.
One strong hand clamped around her ankle.
‘Who said anything about rushing?’ The rough murmur vibrated across her nerve-endings as his hand tightened.
Slipping off her shoe, he flung it over his shoulder. Then dug his thumb into the tight muscles of her instep. She groaned, her body bowing back, as heat shimmered up her calf and made her thigh muscles quiver. He massaged with strong fingers until the muscles went liquid, then transferred his attention to the other foot.
Her heart lurched into her throat as he lifted her foot to his lips, those emerald eyes locked on her face, and bit into the arch.
She gasped, astonished to realise he was discovering erogenous zones she hadn’t known existed as his callused fingers trailed up her legs, stroking and caressing with purpose. Butterfly kisses followed in their wake, distracting her as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties.
She raised her bottom as he drew the scarlet lace down, welcoming the slight breeze from the terrace as he lifted the hem of her dress, bunching the skirt round her waist. She glanced down, and realised on a surge of horrified excitement that she was completely exposed to him.
‘What are you doing?’ She shuddered, so breathless, her lungs felt as if they were about to explode.
He looked up, the deep green dark with appreciation. ‘Savouring you, remember.’
‘But you can’t … I’m not …’ Her protest got lodged in her throat when his tongue swirled across the inside of her thigh. She didn’t even recognise the low, guttural moan of longing that echoed in her ears as her own. Her head dropped back on the pillow as she surrendered to the delicious torture of his open-mouthed caress.
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