skin hypersensitive to even the slightest breeze. His gaze felt like a zillion tingles whistling over her flesh.
“I haven’t forgotten about your redhead, you know.” Was that a warning to him or to her?
“Neither have I,” he said honestly. “And I never will. She’s been a part of me since I was a kid. That doesn’t mean I’m a saint, Eve. It doesn’t mean I haven’t had flings or girlfriends or fallen in love before. Doesn’t mean I find you any less attractive. She’s not here now, and I intend to live my life to the fullest before she arrives.”
He set his knife and fork down and changed the subject. “Ya know, I would leave every last bite of food on this plate, maybe even give up food for good, if you would come on over here and let me feed you that chocolate mousse.”
She blinked. “Y-you want to feed me?”
“I want to watch, close up, how you savor every spoonful. The look on your face, the dreaminess in your eyes… It’s like you’re having an orgasm. Or approaching one fast.” He swallowed. “Get on over here. I wanna witness it up close.”
“W-why?”
“Because, it’s sexy as sin. And watching you eat is giving me the hard-on from hell.” He groaned softly and pushed his chair back, standing. “Forget it,” he rasped. “Don’t move. Not an inch.”
The second he rose, she spotted that hard-on. It was impossible to miss. And damn, it did funny things to those tingles on her skin. Intensified them. Made them feel like sharp darts of carnal need.
And then he was beside her, taking the spoon from her hand and dipping it into the bowl. “Open wide, beautiful.”
He held the spoon to her mouth.
She stared up at him, stunned, trying not to think about the erection from hell, which honestly she equated much more with heaven, the one mere inches from her cheek.
“Open,” he urged in that deep baritone of his. It sent shivers down her spine.
She opened.
A soft growl of satisfaction filled the air, and he touched the spoon to her lower lip, drawing it over the sensitive skin before pulling his hand away.
Drops of mousse stuck to her lip, and she licked them off, dabbing at them first with her tongue, then with her teeth, cleaning away every last bit.
The creaminess of the mousse burst on her tongue, an explosion of rich sweetness, made even sweeter by the fact Zachary fed her.
Another soft, masculine growl reverberated down her spine, and the spoon was back. This time he let her have a mouthful. It melted on her tongue, the flavor sparking every one of her taste buds.
He fed her another spoonful, and then another.
Eating became almost impossible. It was hard to swallow when his gaze tracked her every move, his green eyes not moving from her mouth.
Each time she licked her lips, he mimicked her, licking his own lips until his mouth glistened. She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to.
Neither did she want another spoon of mousse. Not anymore. Now it was Zachary she burned to taste. His mouth, his lips, his kiss.
His erection.
Zachary touched the spoon to her lower lip again and then to her upper one.
“Uh-uh,” he breathed when she attempted to lick them clean. He placed the spoon in the bowl. “My turn.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t remember how. Her heart hammered as he caught her chin with his finger, tilted her face upwards, and ever so slowly leaned in.
Helpless beneath his touch, her eyes slid shut.
Zachary flicked his tongue over her upper lip, just a whisper of wet heat as he licked at a drop of mousse. And then another one. He took his time, savoring the treat, tasting every inch of her lip.
A soft rumble of appreciation resonated in his chest.
Sensation, wicked and frantic, washed over Eve, making her shiver.
Zachary turned his attention to her lower lip. Only he didn’t sweep his tongue over it. No, this time he caught it between his lips and nibbled.
Desire rocketed through her, fierce and hot. Her knees turned to jelly and moisture pooled between her legs. She couldn’t hold back the moan as he suckled on her lip.
Eve was a violent inferno of need and want and lust, while Zachary was all gentle touches and soft caresses. He released her lip only to press his mouth against hers and run his tongue ever so slowly over her teeth and her tongue.
His moan echoed her own.
As fierce and demanding as the previous two kisses had been, so this one was tender. And beautiful. And delicious.
It captivated her.
Eve returned the kiss, tangling her tongue with his, molding her lips to the shape of his. She wanted to attack. Wanted to kiss him harder, make him hers. Damn, she wanted to own his mouth. Own him.
Or maybe she wanted him to own her.
She tamped down on her rampant excitement, on her fervor. Forced herself to move at his speed. To slow down and appreciate the moment for what it was.
A perfect kiss. An exquisite experience. A blissful blending of man and woman. It was almost as if Eve had been born to share this moment with this man. Born to share his mouth, his passion, his tenderness. Born to breathe the air he breathed.
Which was ridiculous really, as she hadn’t been born with red hair or green eyes.
The thought hurt, slamming home, and instinctively Eve tried to kill the moment, pulling away. Zachary refused to let her go.
He simply kissed her harder, more ardently, as Eve had desired. Trapped her with his mouth and wouldn’t release her lips.
Heat tingled up her back and down her arms. Her breasts grew heavy, needy. And still he increased the heat of his kiss, ramping it up, caressing her lips with his, seducing her with his tongue.
She lost herself to the zeal of his mouth, lost herself to the rapture, to the storm building in her belly…and lower. The muscles in her pussy clenched, fed by a voracious hunger. A desperate need for more of Zachary. So much more.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he forced them open and stared at her, seemingly dazed.
“I haven’t slept with a woman in months, Eve. Haven’t wanted to.” He closed his eyes with a hoarse groan. “But God help me, I want you. Want you so bad.”
His mouth reclaimed hers, his words still echoing in her ears like the soft beat of a drum, rhythmic, hypnotic, making her heart pound.
His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her upright, pulling her against him, lifting her into the air. He held her so tight, not even air could pass between them. Her breasts were squashed against his chest, her hips pressed into his stomach as her legs found their way around his waist, clutching him.
At some point her arms had wound themselves around his neck, holding him just as close as he held her.
All the while he kissed her, seduced her with his sinful mouth, made her think dirty thoughts. Made her want wicked, delicious things from him.
He turned and rested her ass on the table, nestling between her thighs, his groin pressed against hers, the stiffness of his erection a solid bulge against her aching pussy.
His mouth devoured hers, his chest rubbed against her swollen breasts. Her nipples beaded and throbbed with the hunger to be touched—skin upon skin.
Somehow he must have understood, because his hands found the hem of her shirt, and just like she’d wanted to do in the stadium—and every time she’d looked at him since—he tugged it up and over her shoulders, breaking their kiss only to pull it over her head.
