Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(78)

“Mav, we can’t…” She lifts her head and looks at me over her shoulder. “We can’t do this here.”

“Are you saying we can do it somewhere else?” My hands tighten around the lush roundness of her hips, move to palm her waist. “Because my apartment isn’t far away.”

She turns to face me, stepping back and out of my reach. “We can’t do this anywhere, but especially not at Zere’s birthday party.”

“You got the flowers I sent?”

She frowns, but her expression softens. “They were beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you. It just felt like I should shut everything down for a while.”

“It’s fine. I figured as much. It seemed like you needed a breath to think about things, so I backed off.”

“Thank you. I—”

“But that’s over now.”

“Mav.” She closes her eyes, the lashes long on her rose-dusted cheeks. Her face is a fresco of bold lines and beveled bones and rich pigments. I tip up her chin to get a full view. In her heels she’s my height and we look dead into each other’s eyes.

“Damn, you’re beautiful, Hen.”

A slow smile works its way onto her lips. “I thought I was Gorgeous.”

“Obviously.” I venture a hand back to the curve of her hip and tug her close in cautious inches so she doesn’t pull away again. “Zere’s new guy is here with her tonight. She invited me to the party. How much more proof do you need that she’s moved on?”

“You’re not the kind of man a woman gets over quickly,” she says, eyes fixed on the top button of my shirt and not meeting my gaze.

“You’re speaking theoretically, of course.” I tip her chin up with one finger, locking our eyes together and immediately feeling a tightness in my chest at the vulnerability I doubt she wants me to see. “Why don’t you try me for yourself?”

“So I can be where Zere is now?” She shifts to free her face from my touch. “Psssh. No, thanks.”

My brows snap together. “What does that mean?”

“Heartbroken and feeling like she wasted three years of her life.”

“I never misled her and never promised her marriage. Things started disintegrating between us long before the world knew we were done. We didn’t want the same things.”

“And what do you want from me?”

“If I lied and said I just want to fuck you, would you come home with me?”

She smirks. “Maybe.”

I lean close, letting my lips brush her ear. “Then I just want to fuck you.”

Her scent, the warmth of her skin, drugs me. I drop my head and press my mouth to the curve of her neck and across her bare shoulder.

“Mav,” she moans, leaning into my kisses.

I thread our fingers together and pull her closer. “I missed you this week, Hen.”

She nods. “Same.”

With my hand splayed at the small of her back, I kiss up the satiny column of her neck, over her chin until I reach her mouth. I expect resistance, but she’s already open for me, and our tongues meet in a starved tangle. She tastes of champagne—expensive and heady and effervescent—the kiss a swirl of decadence. I’m desperate, both hands reaching for her butt and squeezing hard.

“This ass,” I groan. “Fuck. And your legs and your…” I dip to the tops of her breasts, sucking the plumpness into my mouth and then running my tongue into her cleavage. Her scent is intense trapped between the full curves. Eyes locked with hers, I peel the bodice down a little, watching to see if she protests. My mouth is already watering for the first sight of her nipples, but instead there’s another layer of satiny fabric.

“Shapewear,” she laughs. “You think my body is naturally this smooth and tight? Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not disappointed. Just determined.” I reach around and find a zipper for the shapewear, pulling it down along with the dress until both pool at her waist. Her breasts are big and crowned with fat nipples the color of blackberries against her cocoa skin. I cup them, testing the weight in my palms, tracing the tips with my thumbs. She draws in a sharp breath and her head tips back, exposing the long line of her throat.

“Shit, Hen.” I don’t even sound like myself. My voice is a strangled stranger.

“You like them?” Hendrix raises her head and her eyes reflect the desperate heat of my own passion. The need to taste her steals rational thought, and I don’t care that the party is in full swing just beyond this coatroom. I don’t care that there’s no lock on the door. I dip my head and take one nipple into my mouth.

“Jesus, Mav,” Hendrix gasps. Her hands palm my head, and I don’t know if she’ll push me away or pull me in. With a broken sigh, she presses me closer, and it’s all the signal I need. I lave her nipples, discovering the velvety texture with just the tip of my tongue for a few blissful seconds.

“Don’t stop.” Hendrix’s words ride a breathy moan.

I suck one nipple into my mouth, gentle at first, but then hard enough to hollow out my cheeks. I rub the other between my thumb and forefinger, and it hardens under my touch. Sade’s “The Sweetest Taboo” seeps through the walls, and it’s in perfect tune with the first time I have her this way because she tastes forbidden on my tongue, but not wrong. So fucking right like my skin has been waiting, the most sensitive nerves dormant all my life until they felt her. Like the electrical impulses that make my heart beat were waiting for her, and she is the jolt that startles it into beating for the first time. Like nothing and no one else has been this right until now.