Then he slams his mouth on mine with a groan. A gasp escapes me as I part my lips for his insistent tongue. His kiss, deep and consuming, sears me to my soul. I whimper into his mouth, fingers clutching his suit jacket as heat ignites between my legs.

I’ve never been kissed until now. Have never known what it means to burn for a man until Liam lit the match.

He groans again, and I reciprocate his vow of surrender. He lifts me onto the table amid rattling china and settles between my thighs. His hands are in my hair, his hot, open mouth devouring the column of my throat, cock hard and snug against the wet center of my innocence.

I don’t feel innocent anymore. I’m wanton with sin, wrecked by lust. An accusing pang attacks my heart because I’m not being honest with myself.

Lust could turn into more.

I could grow to love him, and that scares me more than anything he could do to me on a physical level.

He yanks the sheer cups of the negligee down, and his thumbs brush over my nipples. “Touch yourself like you did in the tub yesterday.”

“You’re giving me permission?”

“To touch, yes.” He veers back and holds me captive in his stare. “Not to come.” He pushes my hand between us, urging me to dip my fingers beneath the barrier of scant panties.

A moan slips free, and our eyes lock as I grip his shoulder. His are beautiful, sensual and deep, surrounded by thick lashes. The way he watches me makes my breath stall.

“Are you wet for me?” His hand covers mine, adding pressure to that magical spot I found yesterday, alone in the tub.

“Yes.”

Our hands move in tandem, creating an exquisite fire-inducing friction. The kind of friction that has me breathless and unable to stop.

“Liam.” His name fights its way through the vise around my throat.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

I groan his name as I graze the pinnacle, and that’s when he yanks my hand out of my panties, leaving me throbbing as blood rushes toward the dam.

“Please,” I beg, delirious and floating in a foreign headspace. I try returning my hand back to the center of all that pressure and heat, but he won’t let me. I’m breathing too hard as he brings each of my fingers into his mouth.

He’s tasting me.

Making me whimper with each dart of his tongue.

Shooting pulsating need to every nerve ending in my body.

“Please,” I say again, voice a quivering sigh.

“Begging won’t get you what you want.”

“Then what will?”

“Patience.” His answer splashes ice on my flushed skin.

“Do you enjoy torturing me?”