She skimmed her hand down his chest, knowing she was being provocative, but no longer caring. She was in a dream and she meant to take full advantage. In a dream she could do anything, have anything, and she wanted Ryland Miller. "And you think I should be talking about such things here in this very public place."
Ryland laughed softly. "Not so public tonight. I had them shut it down for us. A private showing. And I can't stop thinking about the underwear, Lily, whether you're completely naked beneath that outfit, or whether you're covered." His fingers dipped lower, over the swell of her breast. "I have to know."
"What are you doing?" Lily asked breathlessly. His hand skimmed down the front of her blouse, as if brushing crumbs from her silken top, yet lingering on the dark nipples hidden beneath the thin material. He brought her body to instant life, her nipples taut, her breasts full and aching.
His fingers brushed over her breasts a second time. Slow. Unhurried. This time sliding a button open. Her blouse gaped slightly, giving him a better view of her cleavage. She was beautiful, her breasts full and firm, swaying gently beneath the silk as she walked beside him. And she wasn't wearing a bra, just as he had suspected. His body instantly reacted, hard and thick and full with heat.
"I don't know, honey, something about this place just turns me on." He grinned at her, outrageously uninhibited, sinfully wicked. His eyes were hot with desire. His fingers tangled with hers and he tugged her off balance so that she fell against him. Her body molded to his, fit perfectly.
Right there, in the room filled with hundred-year-old paintings, he lowered his mouth to hers. She tasted his desire, a hot, masculine passion that instantly ignited an answering flame in the pit of her stomach. She lost herself in his strength and hunger. His hands slid down her back, shaped her body, feeling his way through the material of her skirt.
At once his heart began to thud in reaction to the knowledge. His groin tightened to the point of pain and a fire spread in his belly. There wasn't a single pantie line. His mouth grew hotter and he pressed her tightly into him. Whips of lightning streaked through him with the contact against his throbbing arousal. "We need a bed, Lily," he breathed into her mouth. "Right now. The bench is looking darned good."
She kissed him, deliberately rubbed her body along his, her breasts pushing hungrily into his chest, her hands exploring the muscles of his back. "We don't need a bed, we don't have time for a bed. I don't have a single stitch on underneath this skirt." It didn't matter, it was a dream. She could go with erotic, she could be totally without inhibitions. She didn't want reality, she wanted Ryland.
His breath slammed out of his lungs. "Are you wet, Lily, hot and wet waiting for me? Because I'm as hard as a rock."
"I never would have guessed."
She was laughing at him, teasing him. The world would be bleak and cold without Ryland. It would be empty and the knowledge of betrayal would come creeping in to push a knife through her heart. "They have security cameras," she reminded, determined to stay with him within the framework they had set.
He dragged her to the relative privacy of a small enclosure housing three rare paintings by some artist he couldn't name. "We're in a dream so it doesn't matter, now does it?"
His mouth was hot and wild, deliberately dominating, demanding her response. She opened for him like a blossom, heat for heat, her tongue as demanding as his own. Breathing hard, he sat on the small bench, stretching out his legs to ease the bulge in his jeans as much to pull her between his thighs.
"What are you doing now?" Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body shivering in anticipation as his fingers circled her ankle and he began to slowly raise her skirt. Instantly she was hot and moist, her muscles clenching and throbbing. Hungry for him, hungry for him to fill her emptiness. The temperature of the room seemed to go up a hundred degrees. She waited, her body still, every nerve ending aware of his hand circling her bare ankle like an anklet.
Slowly he began to slide his palm up the contour of her leg, caressing the back of her knee, stroking her thighs. His legs urged her to a wider stance, exposing her more fully to him.
The slow revealing of her expanse of skin nearly caused an explosion in his gut. It was like unveiling a masterpiece. Exquisite. Beautiful. For him alone. Moisture glistened in the dark curls of her triangle. He bent his head to taste her unique flavor. His tongue caressed her lightly, just a taste. Her body clenched, jumped. He took his time, his fingers stroking, memorizing every secret place. When she caught his shoulder in a tight grip, in a silent plea, he pushed two fingers into her tight sheath, in a long stroke that had her crying out.
He knew what they were doing was dangerous. They could be caught in a dream, lost forever together, but he couldn't have stopped if his life depended upon it and maybe it did. Ryland didn't know all that much about walking in dreams. The excitement, the sheer pleasure washed over him in such intense waves it was difficult to remember it wasn't wholly real. She was so beautiful wanting him. He loved the cloudy, sultry look on her face, the heat of her body as her muscles clenched tightly around his fingers. He loved the way she trusted him so completely even if she thought it only an erotic dream.
He pushed deep, insistently, long strokes so that she moved with him. Her body tightened, a hot, moist sheath for his fingers. He felt it coming, the beginnings of hard release, and he pulled his fingers away, dragged her to him and buried his tongue deep. Her climax was wild and he shared it, the rippling explosion, the hot liquid, the intensity of pleasure exploding in her body, in her mind.
Lily's legs were rubbery, shaking, fine tremors seizing her. She opened her eyes to look at him. His face was so perfect to her she brushed a caress over his scarred jaw. She could see the lines of strain. It wasn't difficult to see why. The bulge in his jeans was huge, as hard as a rock. She simply reached down and unzipped him so that he sprang free, erect, thick, engorged with need.
"Lily." It was a protest. A plea for mercy. "It's too risky. We can't, baby, not here." But it was already too late, she simply lifted her skirt and straddled him, right there on the bench while the eyes from the portraits stared at them with shock. Or maybe indulgence. "I'll never hold the bridge, never, not when you're distracting me," he told her, his hands at her waist to lift her away.
She settled over him slowly. It was torture. She was so hot, so wet, so tight he had to push his way into her velvet folds. A growl escaped him, a throaty note of pleasure/pain he couldn't stifle. Her muscles, still rippling from her orgasm, gripped and milked him as she began to move.
"Let them come, Ryland," she whispered wickedly, her blue eyes staring straight into his. "I don't care if they find us locked together. Do you know what it feels like to have you so deep inside me?"
Her words nearly shattered him. He knew what it was like to fill her, to stretch her. He knew what it was like to have her ride him, slick with hot heat, and he knew what it was like to thrust almost helplessly, violently into her, spearing her deeply. Over and over, hard and fast, uncaring that they might be locked forever in this dream. Nothing mattered at that moment except the sheer indulgence of each other's hunger.
The roaring started in his head. The fire flamed in his belly. Her muscles spiraled around him, her sheath so tight she milked him into an explosion so intense he couldn't muffle the yell torn from his throat. For a moment colors seemed to burst around him. He clung to her, breathing deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control. They clung together tightly, holding each other while their hearts tried to slow down, while their lungs tried to find air.
The low murmur of voices drifted to them. Late-night visitors to the museum. Intruders into their dreamworld. Lily reluctantly slipped off of him, felt his seed trickle down the inside of her thigh. How had visitors managed to invade their dream? She looked around, saw the sudden flashing light of the alarms. Blazing lights spilling around them, pointing an accusing finger at them. Two freaks of nature who no longer belonged in the world with others.