The scrape of wood on wood echoed in her ears as he grabbed the leg of her stool and tugged it in front of his. And just like that, she was between Wes’s legs, his chest at her back, his voice in her ear.
“That’s the kind of heat that makes you forget where you are. Who’s around.”
His hand came to rest on her hip, and her eyelids drifted shut as he traced his thumb along the waistband of her jeans, stopping just beneath her belly button.
“His world is just her right now.”
The reminder of the dancing couple made her open her eyes in time to watch the guy’s hands as they migrated up from the girl’s waist. His fingers were dangerously close to her breasts, flirting with that intoxicating line between PDA and public indecency charges.
“All he can think about is touching her.”
With the flick of Wes’s thumb, the button on Viv’s jeans went slack. She swallowed against the rush of warmth between her thighs.
“About getting his hands on her.”
She couldn’t hear her zipper over the music, over the beat of her own heart, but she felt the denim grow even looser.
Wes’s mouth was so close that his breath tickled her ear. Her lips parted on a silent sigh.
“That buzz is everything. The build of anticipation. The throb of it in their veins.”
The thrall of lust wound through her, consumed her.
“He’s so hard it hurts, and do you know why?”
“Why?” she breathed the word so softly, she wasn’t sure if Wes heard it over the bar din, or if he was just so deep in his story that her answer was irrelevant.
“Because he knows she’s wet for him.”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. So, so wet for him.
“He can smell her arousal. Feel the way she trembles beneath his touch.”
Her whole world had narrowed to the burn of his fingers on her abdomen.
“Until they’re so turned on, so wild with need, that they can’t handle the tease for another second.”
Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut as Wes slipped his hand in her panties. The stroke of his finger, precise and unerring, as he circled her clit with just the right amount of pressure.
An involuntary moan escaped her lips at the contact, half relief, half desperation.
“God, you feel so fucking good, Viv.”
She bit her lip as he pushed his hand deeper, so he could slip a finger inside her. Yes. It was too much, and not nearly enough. She mewled in frustration.
“You want more?”
Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer before pressing a second finger inside her. Her body stretched to accommodate the slow, slick slide of his hand, and she leaned back against his chest, something solid as the promise of pleasure began to make the rest of the world go a little wavy.
She could feel the heat of his chest seeping into her back, the jut of his erection pressing against her ass.
Before long, she was rocking her hips in time with the steady drive of his fingers in her mindless quest for climax.
“Jesus. You make me so hard. I wish I was inside you.”
Wes finally gave her what she wanted, and with the twist of his wrist, the pad of his finger brushed her G-spot with every thrust.
Vivienne bit her lip, working herself against his hand, desperate for release. She was close. So damn close.
The rasp of his breath in her ear let her know he knew it, too. “That’s right. Come apart for me.”
Her body tightened at the sexy order, squeezing around his fingers, and then Wes pressed the heel of his hand against her clit and caught her earlobe between his teeth. The weightless free fall of orgasm rushed through her with unstoppable intensity.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“LET ME TAKE you home.”
That’s what he’d said when she could finally breathe again. When her heart rate had returned to normal operating parameters and she’d settled back into her body to find they were still at Señor Taco’s and that she hadn’t transcended into another plane of existence all together.
Which was why she shouldn’t have been surprised when Wes pulled up at his place, not hers. And as much as she wanted to look around the ritzy loft, with its big windows and manly, brown leather furniture and surprising sense of hominess, that was going to have to wait.
Right now, she needed to get Wes’s pants off.
She would have, too, but he impeded her progress by shoving her up against the door the second it closed and pinning her arms over her head so he could capture her mouth with his. The flavor of beer and tacos on his tongue might not do it for some women, but Viv figured their youthful antics had classically conditioned her to drop her panties faster for that taste than any response Pavlov had managed to get with his stupid bell.
With a groan, Wes pulled his mouth from hers, let go of her wrists.
“Not here.”
Since she disagreed with that assessment, Vivienne slid her hand between his legs, and did her best to change his mind. “Not exciting enough without the taco crowd? We could move this in front of the window and hope a bunch of people walk by.”
His answering chuckle loosened something in her chest. “Tempting, but this time I want you all to myself.”
Before she’d realized his intentions, Wes ducked down and hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Her stomach hurt from laughing by the time he’d marched her across the floor and dumped her on his mattress.
He dragged his T-shirt over his head. “I mean to have you in my bed, wife.”
Vivienne froze at the pronouncement. Wife. She was his wife.
He was her husband.
She watched as he shucked his jeans and underwear, revealing the perfection of his body. Strong. Sexy. For two years of her life, he was all she’d ever wanted. And tonight, he was really hers. Boyish and eager, with mussed-up hair and sex on his mind.
Despite
