Free Have Mercy: A Loveswept Contemporary Erotic Romance by Shelley Ann Clark Page B

Tom were panting in tandem.
    The sound of a guitar tuning overhead should have broken the spell. It should have made her feel guilty. It should have made her embarrassed that surely, by now, Dave and Guillermo would have noticed that both of them were missing, and it wouldn’t take a genius to guess why.
    Over their heads, bar patrons drank and danced and flirted and walked around in high-heeled shoes. Dave and Guillermo could decide to come downstairs and see what the hell was keeping them at any minute.
    She turned away from the mirror, turned and actually faced Tom for the first time since he’d stepped into the room. “Come here.”
    Her voice was huskier than usual, but he came all the same, stopping half an arm’s distance from her. She pulled her dress off the table and stepped into it, pulling the fabric up her body, sliding the straps up her arms and over her shoulders, watching Tom’s eyes all the while. She turned around again, presenting her back to him. “Zip me up.”
    Without saying a word, Tom reached for her. His warm palm cupped the bare skin of her back, and they both gasped. She could feel the tremor in his hands as he slid the zipper up slowly, carefully, so careful not to catch her skin or hair in its teeth. His fingers brushed against the back of her neck as he hooked the fastener at the top of the zipper, making her shudder. With him standing behind her, she could see just how much bigger he was than she was, feel the calluses against her delicate skin. Hecould make demands, he could take what he wanted, he could arm himself with scorn when he looked at her, but he didn’t. He only bent his dark head over her blonde one and opened his mouth against her neck, mouth warm and damp against her skin, and inhaled deeply.
    He stepped back and dropped his hands to his sides, waiting for her to tell him what to do. There was no doubt in her mind anymore about whether she’d planned this as torture or reward; it was a test, and he’d passed it.
    When Emme set her black heels on the floor and stepped into one, she stumbled a little, she was so overcome. Tom reached forward and took her arm, holding her steady as she slid her feet into the leather. With her heels on, she was tall enough to look him in the eye, so she faced him and did just that.
    “God,” Tom muttered under his breath. His eyes closed and he leaned toward her, but he seemed to recall himself a split second later and pulled back. He ran his hand over his mouth and blinked.
    Emme watched him as he tried to master himself, his obvious struggle both incredibly endearing and incredibly arousing. In a move she was beginning to recognize as his response to discomfort, he pulled out another cigarette. She waited for him to ask if she minded.
    Tom surprised her. “Do you want one?”
    “I shouldn’t,” she said, her voice clogged with emotion.
    He nodded, looking at the floor. “Yeah. Disgusting habit, awful for your voice.”
    “But I’m going to anyway.”
    Tom’s head snapped up, and the small, hopeful smile that activated his dimples nearly did her in. “Yeah?” He placed the cigarette between his lips, flicked the lighter, and held the flame to the tip, inhaling slowly. “Some days I wish I’d never started,” he warned, and he passed the cigarette to her.
    Their fingertips brushed as Emme slid the cigarette from his hand, in between her fingers. She ran her thumb over the filter, which was warm and damp like his mouth had been against her neck. She watched his face, the tensing of the muscles in his jaw, the peek of his tongue as he licked his lips, and she lifted the cigarette to her mouth.
    Emme inhaled, filling her lungs with the same burning smoke that had filled his. She held her breath for a moment, feeling the swirl of smoke in her lungs, in her head, even in her sex. She could smell her own arousal, heavy and thick beneath her clothes, and the warm laundry scent of him. When she exhaled, smoke from her lips trailed