Part 4 (1/2)

”'Walking in Memphis'?”

She just smiled.

He rolled into it, watching her a little closer this time. She was looking at his hands again. Her face was flushed, although he didn't think it was the wine. He'd had as much as she and it was just the one bottle. Couldn't just be the wine, right?

She all but groaned as he launched into the one part that got to her, every d.a.m.n time, right near the end.

His voice dropped, lower, rougher.

A shudder went through her and she grabbed the gla.s.s of wine, drank it down. They'd emptied the bottle and she wished she could blame the heat burning inside her on the wine, but it wasn't that. It was him. Always him- ”What is it about you and that song?”

As the music faded, she jerked her head up, saw him staring at her.

She tried to shrug. It wasn't the song, it was him. Something about the way he sang it, h.e.l.l, the way he sang anything... She licked her lips and stared off into the distance, trying to figure out the right way to say something that wasn't a lie, but didn't leave her stripped bare.

A harsh groan reached her ears.

Startled, she looked at him, realized he was staring at her mouth.

Two seconds later, he was reaching for her.

Stunned, she couldn't think. As his lips covered hers, she just couldn't think.

Marc was kissing her.

d.a.m.n it.

Marc was kissing her- Had she drank more wine than she'd thought?

”Open your mouth,” he snarled against her lips, a harsh, urgent command in his voice. ”Give me your mouth.”

Dazed, she did just that, opened for him.

His arms came around her as his tongue stroked across the bottom of her lip, slowly, seductively...teasingly. Oh, h.e.l.l. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble...

And she didn't plan on doing anything to stop it, either. Not when he broke his mouth away to brush a line of stinging, hot kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Not when he stroked a hand up her thigh, the other cupping the back of her head.

Alarm, though, started to sound when he toyed with the fastening of her dress-alarm that would give way to terror if she let it.

Refusing to let that happen, she wiggled around until she was straddling his lap, her arms looped around his shoulders. Through the bodice of her dress, she felt the warmth of his breath, and when he pressed his mouth to her breastbone, she figured she needed to call a stop to this here and now. He didn't know and she just couldn't...

”Chaili...f.u.c.k, what have you got on under this skirt?”

She s.h.i.+vered as he spoke and Marc lifted his gaze, stared at her face, searching for some sign that he needed to pull back, but all he saw was the look of a woman wanting. Wanting him, d.a.m.n it. Chaili wanted him.

This was insane and if he knew what was good for the both of them, he'd pull back, but they'd already opened Pandora's Box and he'd never be able to look at her again without remembering her taste. Without feeling the silk of her skin. Might as well ride the insanity to the end.

A slow grin canted up the corners of her lips. ”You really want to know?”

”f.u.c.k, yes.”

Slowly, she eased back and then wiggled away. It wasn't necessary-the skirt was cut full and he could have pushed it up just fine on his own, but if she wanted to show him? Leaning back on his hands, he watched as she backed away a step or two from the bench.

”Just what's happening here, Marc?” she asked softly, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt.

His lids drooped over his eyes as he stared at her fingers. f.u.c.k, would she just let him see? ”What do you think is happening here, Chaili?” he rasped.

”Well, I know what I think is happening here...” She eased the hem up and he caught a glimpse of lace, a few inches past mid-thigh.

His heart was going to stop. ”You think maybe we should call it quits?” He looked away from her hands, met her gaze, those pretty jewel-like eyes, and waited.

”No.” She shrugged and said, ”I just...” She touched her tongue to her lips. ”Call me shy. I'm not taking my dress off.”

He blinked. Well, the night was young, he could work on that. ”Does that mean I won't get to home base?” he teased, slipping off the bench and moving to stand next to her. He had to see what in the h.e.l.l she had on under that skirt.

She laughed, a husky sound that went straight to his groin. ”Oh, you can get to home base. Matter of fact, I'd rather you just skipped out on the whole third base bit too.”

”But it's a lot of fun.” He caught the hem of her skirt, dragged it up. ”Just how shy are you, Chaili...do I get to see what's under here or not?”

She b.u.mped him back, grinning. ”I said I'd show you.”

He obliged, taking a step away. Then another, because he figured he'd see her better. And then he almost went to his knees as she dragged the skirt up, revealing the lacy tops of her stockings, the skinny straps of a garter.

”Turn around.”

Her eyes widened a little and he could have kicked himself, but to his surprise she did it, still holding the skirt up, baring the stockings, her garters.

”Higher,” he rasped.

A shudder raced through her and he narrowed his eyes, filing that little bit away. He'd think all of this through...later. Right now, he was having a hard time keeping his brain even functioning, and it only got worse as she tugged the skirt higher, higher, until it revealing the lacy edge of panties just a few shades darker than her skin. Lovely, just lovely...

Closing the distance between them, he gripped her waist and tugged her back against him, pressed his lips to her neck. She gasped and tilted her head to the side.

Raking his teeth along her skin, he slid his hand around, pressed it against her belly, splayed his fingers wide. As he cuddled his c.o.c.k against her a.s.s, he whispered, ”Last chance, Chaili. Either we stop it now or we'll be sliding into home here very shortly.”

”Well, not too shortly, I hope.” She grinned at him over her shoulder.

Laughing softly, he slid his hand down, caught the hem of her skirt. Stroking his fingers along the lace of her stockings, he freed one strap. Another. Another. ”I love your taste in lingerie,” he whispered as he moved to the other leg. ”I almost hate to undo these, but I really, really need you naked.”

She chuckled. ”They'll stay up.”

”Yeah?”

Going to his knees after he'd freed the last strap, he stared at the round, taut curve of her a.s.s. ”Pull your skirt up again. Don't let go this time.”

”You're bossy,” she muttered.

s.h.i.+t, she had no idea. But he noticed she didn't hesitate either, grabbing fistfuls of the full skirt, dragging higher, inch by scant inch. By the time the skirt had cleared the taut curve of her a.s.s, he was about ready to shove it up himself, but he waited. Teeth gritted, muscles clenched...he waited. And sure enough, those lace-topped stockings still lovingly gloved her thighs, the straps of her garters hanging free. Reaching under the garter belt, he caught the panties and eased them down and dropped the pale, lacy sc.r.a.p on the floor. Then, because she looked so d.a.m.ned hot, he hooked the garters back to her stockings as he leaned in, pressed his lips to the round curve of her a.s.s.

She had the most amazing a.s.s, he decided. Round, firm. She used to run in high school. Run, bike. She'd been the one of those brainiac athletic types. Judging by the long, sleek muscles, she was still into the active lifestyle.