His eyes glittered darkly. His hand on her backside burned. His desire rose to surround her, a column of palpable lust and heat, consuming. She didn’t know him. She didn’t care.
Tomorrow she’d be gone.
Tonight, in this moment, only one thing existed. “Stay.”
He lowered his hand, cupped her, his fingers close to the crevice separating her cheeks. “You draw the line. I’ll step back.”
Her heart in her throat, she nodded and once again begged him near, swaying, the music soft but urgent. Donovan. Nova. He smelled of a day’s work, the skin of his neck damp, and salty when she tasted him, not a kiss but with the touch of her tongue.
A sound throttled low in his chest. She felt it, heard it. Beneath her silk tank, her nipples tightened, and the sound came again, involuntarily, making them painfully taut.
He wanted her, and in that most basic of ways. No manipulation. No games. His body. Her body. Oh, how she’d missed this honesty. Sex for pleasure, not offered as a reward, or withheld as punishment.
She slipped her leg between his, pressed her hip to his groin and felt the thickness of him.
He said nothing, but nuzzled his face to hers, his jaw hard, the stubble of his beard a scraping reminder of their differences and shooting sparks from her nape to the base of her spine.
“A good sound, I hope?” His voice rumbled, intense and deep.
She thought she might come from no more than this. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I think I do,” he said, the press of his erection to her hip reminding her.
“Yeah.” Her skin was on fire. “It’s that kind of good.”
“It can get a whole lot better.”
She wanted better. She wanted more. She wanted everything. He was in her head already, tempting her, teasing her, and her panties were damp with the wait.