Free Filthy Rich by Dawn Ryder

of one side of her bottom and further down to her thigh. Heat roared through her, her heart pounding as her clit began to ache. The need to press against him was so intense that she never protested when he pulled her thigh up to allow him to grind against her mound.
    He hissed, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her skirt and discovering that one strap from her garter belt was the only thing to keep his hand off her bare skin. She shivered, his skin connecting with hers like a clap of thunder. She jerked her head back, unbearably conscious of how exposed she was. Only a thin triangle of silk covered her sex, just inches from his fingers. She was on edge, completely exposed. Frantic with the need for more. More of him.
    â€œWe need a room…now,” he growled next to her ear. She felt the words as much as heard them.
    He stepped back, allowing the air to slam into her. It was like a bucket of ice water. She struggled against the horror of what she’d allowed herself to do, blinking as she took in the hunger edging his features and sharpening them. Someone laughed nearby and the click of heels against concrete made it through to her at last. Acute embarrassment mixed with the sexual craving tearing up her insides.
    â€œNo…”
    He reversed course instantly, turning to face her and flattening his hands on either side of her head. His eyes narrowed to slits as he drew in a deep breath and held it before opening his eyes to display a glitter that made her mouth go dry.
    â€œI can smell your heat, Celeste… I want to taste you…every inch of you…”
    His voice was raspy and raw, promising her a hard ride. But it was the possessive gleam in his eyes that made her shake her head. He slipped his hand around the curve of her hip and drew her against him, making sure she felt every hard inch of his erection. Her passage quivered, tightening with need so acute that she groaned.
    God, she wanted him…so damned much it hurt.
    She ducked under his arm and came up a few paces from him. She really hadn’t escaped, and that knowledge, mixed with the raging need inside her, made her wonder if trusting him was such a terrible thing after all.
    â€œFind someone else.”
    It was the kindest, politest thing she could manage. Brushing him off completely felt overly harsh when she knew damned well she was the one with trust issues.
    â€œBecause you’re right. I have unresolved issues.”
    She turned and walked away. Her confession rung in her ears, but a little ripple of relief went through her too. She’d said it. Finally admitted it out loud. Nartan might not be the best choice of confidant, but he’d been the one to insist on pressing against her comfort zone.
    Hell, the man pressed better than anyone ever had. It was as irritating as it was impressive. She felt wrung out, her emotions raw.
    As she rounded the corner of the building, the music from the reception became louder. A few people stood just outside the doors, enjoying a smoke. They glanced her way and her cheeks reddened as she fought the urge to turn and look behind her.
    Yeah, Nartan was good at pressing into comfort zones. She’d bet he was damned good at shattering every last illusion she might have about what great sex was. The way he moved, kissed, and touched screamed out his experience level at bedroom games.
    He’d be fire in her hands and she’d be putty in his.
    It had to account for the way she reacted. That was also why she needed to put space between them. But at least she wouldn’t have any problem doing that. Once the wedding was over, she had a tour of Alaska to enjoy. Nartan Lupan would go back to running his upscale restaurant and no doubt find someone less complicated.
    Maybe several someones.
    That thought gave her enough poise to restore her composure. Rich men didn’t sleep alone unless they wanted to. Even if they didn’t come in the mouthwatering type of package