“Kiss you?" he asked, and the wariness in his tone almost made me doubt myself.
Actually, not even almost. More like, I wondered if I should doubt myself.
But I didn't. I didn't doubt myself at all.
I'd always been confident. I'd had the good fortune of being raised first by a father who instilled power in me, and then an older sister who made sure I felt my worth. Ironically, Sabrina had often lacked faith in herself, probably because, as the oldest, she had felt the burden of filling the woman of the household role at such an early age, our mother having died young and then our father only a handful of years later.
And, to be honest, mothering wasn't Sabrina's strong suit. It made sense that she struggled with her self-esteem, as she’d been thrown into that role when she’d never asked for it. I loved her grotesquely, exactly the way she was—strong, opinionated and smart as hell—but she tended to be too strong for much of the traditional world. Too opinionated. Too smart. Weren’t women supposed to be dainty and quiet and demure? Sabrina didn’t buy into that, and I so very much appreciated her paving the way for me to walk behind her with my head held high, no matter what form of femininity I wore.
So I felt pretty secure with myself for the most part. I knew who I was—talented, but not quite good enough to pursue a career based on selling my artwork. Smart enough to understand the chemistry and archeology that went into my nearly completed masters of art conservation. Attractive—no one would ever confuse me for a model, but I did turn heads. I certainly wasn’t desperate. I got to choose who I paid attention to, and when I liked someone, I told him. I had no reason to play hard to get.
But even though I was fun and romantic, I never felt like I wasn’t grounded or that I needed someone else to anchor me. I especially never needed a man for that.
Yet, I did like having a man in my life. When I had a boyfriend, the world spun around him. I was a love with the whole heart kind of gal. I didn’t enjoy being alone, and I’d been single now going on five months. That had been purposeful. After the last relationship that had blossomed and thrived everywhere except the bedroom, I’d decided something had to change.
Finishing school, though, had been the priority, and I hadn’t thought much about how I was going to bring about that change.
I was visiting Sabrina in New York for Thanksgiving break, and I’d intended to give her all my focus, not expecting that her head would be wrapped up in a guy. Not that I was resentful. She deserved some happiness.
Just…her preoccupation with Donovan left me free to, well, notice. Notice Sabrina’s boss, the tall, sophisticated, much older Brit with the chiseled jaw and brown wavy hair. Notice the way his eyes melted like chocolate as he got more buzzed on wine. Notice how his gaze lingered on me throughout dinner, despite the two other people present. Notice the crackle and the spark of electricity that traveled between us.
Notice how he noticed me.
And, wow, was he fantastic to look at. And listen to. And be noticed by. It made me beam and pulse. A lot like when Mr. Gregori, my favorite art teacher, acknowledged my work in class. That was what Dylan felt like—a professor. A very sexy, very hot professor. The kind of professor who could teach a girl a thing or two. The dirty professor who obviously had naughty thoughts about his young student but was restrained enough not to act on it. He let those thoughts simmer and stew instead.
It wasn’t like any other attraction I’d felt before. There was no pretense. No expectation. Just this raw, primal interest drawing me to lean in, to angle my body toward him. Drawing me to be bold.
Drawing me to have ideas.
“Yes, kiss me,” I repeated, my hand on his thigh. I swear I could feel the temperature of his skin rising through his pants.
Still, he made no move to grant me my request.
“Am I supposed to fall in love?” he asked, studying me with an intensity that made my heart beat against my ribs like a caged madman.
Gosh, he was noble. Wrestling with propriety even as his desire pressed against the wall he’d so firmly built around himself.
Or perhaps he feared that wall wasn’t as sturdy as he proclaimed.
“Are you worried about it?” I challenged.
His eyes never left me. “Of course not.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
His restraint broke, and his mouth swooped down on mine like a wolf descending on its prey. There was no foreplay. No sweet seduction. Just hungry determination as he placed a hand at the back of my head and attacked with fierce ardor. He was firm and aggressive. He was skillful and demanding. He was in charge.
Silly, stupid, willing lamb that I was, I latched myself to him, throwing my arms around his neck and licking at the greedy plunge of his tongue between my lips. I wanted his taste of wine and smoked bass to be my taste, to be the only taste I could remember. I needed to drink him and devour him the way he seemed to need to drink and devour me.
We were frenzied and sloppy, our teeth crashing against each other at times, our breath coming in irregular measures. It felt as though the whole of time had been reduced to this moment, the entirety of the universe reduced to the three square inches that belonged to his mouth, and even as existence was shrunk down to this tiny form, there was nothing missing. Everything, everything I could ever want or need or desire was found in the electric field of this kiss.
Soon, I became aware of more, my attention spreading through my body like heat with the sunrise. My breasts felt heavy and my nipples tight. My belly swirled like a cyclone was tearing across its insides. Lower, between my legs, my core throbbed and ached. I was wet and empty, my thighs even vibrating with need.
Desperate to ease the growing hum, to touch more of him and be touched, I swung my thigh over his lap to straddle him and gasped when I landed on the steel ridge bulging from his pants. My hips bucked up automatically, pressing my pussy against the outline of his cock. Again, again, needing to feel the exact shape of him, hoping to still the buzz that only seemed to grow louder with each stroke.
It was humiliating how eager I was. How urgent. How impetuous.
But then Dylan’s hands were under my skirt, his fingers digging into my ass as he tilted my hips up along the length of him, deepening the notch of his cock, and I realized he was just as eager. Just as urgent. Just as impetuous.
And he knew what I needed. Knew exactly how to give it to me.
I felt myself get wetter. Felt him thicken against me. A frantic mewling sounded in my ears, and it took me several seconds to recognize it was coming from me. It was an entirely new and thrilling experience. Our lips stayed locked as we grinded and humped, a tight ball of tension growing deep in my belly. I’d never been so intimate with someone during a first kiss let alone the first night we’d met. Never felt so close to orgasm with all of my clothes still on. Never been on the verge of begging for a fuck from a near stranger—
The sound of a throat clearing brought me tumbling out of ecstasy.
Dylan broke his mouth from mine and peered around me. “Yes?”
The driver. Oh my god, I’d forgotten about our driver.
“This is the street,” the forgotten driver said. “There’s snow piled up against the curb. I’ve driven down the entire block, and there isn’t a spot that’s clear.”
Dylan turned his head to look out the window, verifying the driver’s claim. “Circle around the block and let her off at the corner then,” he said.
The rhythmic click, click of the turn signal filled the silence.
My cheeks felt hot as I forced myself to meet Dylan’s eyes. The need and urgency from only a moment ago still screamed between us, impossible to ignore even as my pulse began to settle.
Should I invite him up?
I wanted to.
But it was my sister’s house. And he was my sister’s boss, and there seemed to be a dozen things wrong with that situation.
Would he invite me to his hotel?
Also improper for as many reasons, and I saw from his expression that he’d gotten hold of himself enough to understand his obligations.
I shouldn’t have felt so disappointed. I’d only meant for it to be a kiss. A kiss to find out if what I’d been considering was really something that might work.
Now I knew it could definitely work.
“You said I’d believe in kismet after that,” Dylan said. “Was something supposed to happen?”
I could have smacked him. Trying to play like I’d had zero effect on him when his cock was still as hard as stone underneath me.
Fortunately, I wasn’t that easily deterred. “Yes. Now you give me your phone number.”
He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before pulling out his cell phone and unlocking the screen. He handed it to me. “Text yourself.”
I shivered. How could a person make something so innocent sound so naughty?
Because he was experienced, that was how. Because he knew things that I didn’t. Because he was the professor.
I quickly shot myself a text from his phone then handed it back just as the car came to a stop. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, climbing off his lap.
And maybe because I’d moved too quickly, because I’d surprised him, or because he was curious, or maybe because he was hard and horny and not in his right mind, he didn’t argue about my parting remark.
Instead he sat somewhat dazed as I slid across the backseat, opened the door, and disappeared into the night.
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Sweet Liar will be published in full in ebook, paperback and audio in March of 2019. It will end without a cliffhanger, but there WILL be a part two, Sweet Fate, released in April of 2019 for those who want to continue with the story.