Samara grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him against her. It was all the invitation he needed. He gave in to the need to touch her, a demand he didn’t know how to put into words. Touch me. See me. The dress was soft and slick and brought to mind all the things he wanted to do to her—with her.
She moaned, arching closer. Beckett coasted his hands up her sides, liking the feel of the dress sliding over her skin. It was softer than he expected, but then Samara was as well. She kissed him like she needed his air to breathe. He let go of her hips and slid his hands along her jawline, tilting her head back to give him better access to her mouth, and into the heaven that was her hair. She could put on her power suits and professional dresses and act like a younger version of his aunt, but her hair gave lie to the image. She was wild down to her core.
He tore away from her. Each breath was a razor through his chest, and every muscle in his body clenched with the need to have her against him again, but he embraced the agony. “Turn around, Samara.”
“This is a mistake.” Her breath was as harsh as his, and he almost groaned at the sight of her nipples through the dress.
“Maybe.” He reached around her to flip the lock on the door. They’d walk out of this room when they were damn well good and ready, and he refused to allow an interruption to fuck it up. Beckett traced his thumb over her bottom lip. “Let me see you.”
This was the moment when she’d either tell him to go to hell—something he rightly deserved—or she’d obey and prove that they had more than a few things unfinished between them.
Samara dug her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m going to regret this.”
“No, you won’t.”
She shook her head. “Yes, I will.” But she turned and braced her hands flat on the door.
God. She was fire in his arms, the quiver in her body belying her hesitance. He shifted her hair off her neck and kissed her there, taking his time. Her dress dipped low in the back, the entire thing held in place with two tiny straps over her shoulders, and he took full advantage of all that exposed skin. Beckett dragged his mouth down her spine and licked the twin dimples on either side of the small of her back. She was all defined muscles beneath smooth skin. Her ass…Fuck. He palmed her there, letting his thumbs dip beneath the hem of her short dress. “Fuck, Samara.”
She spread her legs, the tiniest bit, and arched her back in a clear invitation. Even with those signs giving him the green light, he wanted this out there in the open between them. He slipped his hands beneath her dress and growled. “I’m going to taste you now.”
Silence for a beat. Two. “Do it.”
He hadn’t had a plan when he’d started this, but there was no going back now. He might tear this fucking room apart if he didn’t taste her in the next breath. He drew a single finger through her wetness, spreading it up and over her clit. It wasn’t nearly enough.
Beckett bracketed her thigh with one hand and guided her legs even wider, opening her for him completely. He tilted his head and closed his mouth over her pussy from behind. Her startled gasp turned into a moan almost immediately. He should feel victorious that he’d managed to shut her smart-ass comments up, but all Beckett felt was totally and completely out of fucking control.
One taste wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
He sucked on her clit once, twice, a third time, until her legs shook on either side of his head and she was trying to move against him to guide his rhythm. He tightened his grip on her thighs, forcing her to hold still.
Too much. Not enough. He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to.
He spread her legs wider and fucked her with his tongue. She tasted…
She tasted like coming home.
Samara couldn’t breathe. She twisted to try to see Beckett, but their positions meant she was well and truly at his mercy. What the hell am I doing?
He pushed two fingers into her and her brain shorted out. All the very specific reasons she had not to let this get out of control went up in smoke. She ached for him. Samara pushed back against his hold. “Beckett, please.”
“Tell me what you need.” She felt each word against her clit.
“I need to see you.” The words were barely voiced when his mouth was gone. He lifted her and half tossed her into the chair next to the small conference table. Beckett went back to his knees in the same move, as if he couldn’t stand more separation than strictly necessary.
“You taste so fucking good.” He guided her legs up and over the arms of the chair. All the while, his gaze never left her pussy. “Can’t get enough of you.”
But what happens tomorrow when we go back to normal?
It was just as well that Beckett speared his fingers back into her before she could forget herself enough to actually say the words aloud. Samara arched her back, giving herself a few seconds just to enjoy the sensations.
If you don’t do something, you’re going to be begging for his cock and then everything you’ve worked so hard for will be gone for good. Regain control.
She inhaled, trying to think through the pleasure. “Your mouth. My clit. Now.”
Beckett grinned at her, more wolf than man. “You keep talking, I’ll give you anything you want.” He flicked her clit with his tongue and then got down to business. Beckett went at her like she was his favorite flavor of ice cream and he couldn’t let a single inch of her remain untasted.
She had no intention of touching
