His hands stilled her fingers. “I can’t make you promises, Iris.”
She lifted her gaze to his while a bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t need promises. I just want tonight. No strings, no expectations.” Her fingers resumed their downward trail.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve promises. You deserve-”
“Mickey? Shut up and kiss me.” She cupped the bulge in his jeans, proving to them both that despite his hesitant words, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
He reacted with a sharp intake of breath, a growl, and then his lips captured hers, hungrily, painfully-biting, licking, sucking on her mouth until she gasped for breath. And then he gentled beneath her hands, his hips rocking into hers with a need that matched her own. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, enjoying the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Feeling his hands at the small of her back, unzipping her skirt, she barely refrained from shouting an exultant “Finally!”
She couldn’t recall ever wanting to be naked with someone so much. This wasn’t just desire. This was destiny.
Her skirt slid down her bare legs to pool at her feet. Mickey’s gaze slid down her body. “God, I love your legs.” He lifted his eyes to hers, the predatory gleam sending a thrill through her. “Let me see all of you. Take your top off.”
Swallowing, she ignored the self-conscious doubts. She grasped the hem of the tank top and slowly pulled it over her head. It tangled in her curls, but Mickey’s fingers helped free it. When she shook her head clear, she saw his other hand was busy unfastening his jeans, releasing his erect penis to the air. That glint in his eyes had turned positively carnivorous.
Her body shuddered with anticipation as he stepped toward her.
With a feather-light touch, Mickey’s thumb stroked her breast in an ever-diminishing orbit until he brushed her erect and very sensitive nipple. She gasped at the ripples coursing across her flesh, straight down her belly and between her legs. In the muted light, Mickey’s jaw tightened as he tried to hold back a smile. Leaning forward, he captured her other breast in his mouth, laving the nipple with his wet tongue until she writhed in his hold.
“Touch me.” God help her, she was already willing to beg.
She felt his smile as he moved his attention from one breast to the other. “I am touching you.”
“No,” she said. “Touch me.” To drive her point home, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed gently.
“Easy there, tiger.” He pulsed in her hand. But he got her message, because he dipped one hand between her legs.
Her brain went positively blank when his hot fingers worked past her panties and stroked her wet folds.
He groaned out loud, and in reply, she leaned against his chest and captured his lower lip for a quick kiss. A short squeal escaped her as he picked her up, cradling her to his chest, and strode for the bedroom.
He perched her gently on her bed before yanking his jeans off his legs. He stopped long enough to root in a pocket for his wallet, and from there he withdrew a small crinkly packet. As he pulled off his briefs, Iris snagged a thumb in the elastic of her silk panties.
“Don’t take those off,” he warned. “I want to do that myself.”
She hid a smile as he rolled the condom onto himself. He might be a petty thief, but he obviously took responsibility seriously. And he cared about her. She sensed it in his touch.
And now he touched her in a whole different way, leaning down to grab her panties with his teeth, nipping at her thighs as he drew the skimpy fabric down her legs. Stealthily, he worked his way back up, stoking the anticipatory fire within her as he tasted the skin at the back of her knee, scrubbed her inner thigh with his bristled jaw, bent to study then taste her in that most intimate of places.
She knotted her hands into his shoulders. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“Is that a complaint?” He skewed a brow at her.
“Honestly, about now you could do anything you wanted.”
He raised his head to look at her. “Do not tempt me like that.”
Her skin tingled, but she was unsure of his meaning. Without a word, she slid down, bringing her face level with his. “What is it you want from me?” she whispered.
“You.” He bent his head and captured her lips again. “Like this.” Sliding his fingers into her slickness again, he whispered, “And like this. You want me. That’s more than I deserve.”
Tears stung her eyes. Without flowery words, this man made her feel more wanted, more precious, than any other ever had. David, for all his eloquent protestations, had never made her feel so coveted. Banishing her fiancé to the furthest corner of her brain, she summoned her strength and rolled Mickey onto his back until she straddled him.
Pushing her hair back from her face, she grinned down at him. But words eluded her.
That swashbuckling smile spread across his features as he stretched his arms over his head and folded them on the pillow.
Iris bit her lip at the oh-so-tempting landscape of muscle presented to her. Raking her fingers down his shoulders, across his chest and ribs, she gripped his hips and, in one tempestuous movement, she impaled herself on him.
This time, it was Mickey who gasped with surprise. His eyes widened, darkened and he gripped his lower lip with his teeth. His fingers laced with hers, and he supported her hands as she adjusted slightly.
Her muscles stretched to accommodate his heat, his girth, her every sense attuned to him. She blanked her mind to all conscious thought. Tonight was about feeling, experiencing…
Sharing.
Beneath her, Mickey ground his hips in a motion so slow, so tantalizing, Iris thought she might go quietly insane with her need. As she was about to open her mouth and beg again, he took both her hands in one of his.
His other hand crept to where their bodies joined, making her breath hitch. His thumb made contact with her highly sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t control her hips as they started to rock.
“Ride me, Iris.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks at his invitation, but her momentary embarrassment was no match for the storm building within her. She rocked with his rhythm, lifting and sinking with his thrusts, spurred on as he increased the tempo of his thumb. A wave built within her, seeking escape, seeking voice. She gasped for breath. “Oh, God. Mickey-”
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
His forehead was dotted with perspiration, his eyes glowed up at her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Come on, give it to me, Iris. Give yourself to me.”
She bent to kiss him, but the new angle pushed her beyond the physical world. Her core exploded in a rainbow of sensation, like a prism shooting light in all directions. For a few seconds she was the light, the color, the power.
Mickey gripped her hips with both hands, pumping into her with a roar that overshadowed her fractured yelp of release.
When the room stopped revolving, Iris realized they’d both stilled. The only sound in the bedroom was their heavy breathing. Steeling herself, she glanced down at Mickey. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw tight, and he held his thin lips closed.
God, what was she supposed to say now? In fact, what the hell had she just done?
And then she noted the tear at the corner of his eye. Iris leaned down and gathered him into her arms.
He clutched her tightly. Long seconds passed before he cleared his throat. “That’s the first time since Brian…” He drew a breath and exhaled sharply. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever want…”
“Shhh.” Pushing aside her own insecurities, she rolled to his side and cuddled him close, stroking his hair, smoothing his brow. “What you need is a good night’s sleep.”
He grasped her fingers and kissed them. “What we need is a shower and some food. And I want you again, Iris Fortune. Tonight’s not over yet.”