“Why has this not happened yet?” he asked as he stroked her bottom lip softly with the pad of his thumb.

She shook her head. “Because we’re always screwing? Because we go straight to the main attraction?”

“Maybe.”

“Or because we’ve never been someplace private enough?”

“Maybe that’s it. Because when I go down on you, I want you without a stitch of clothes on. I want to spread you out, worship your sexy body, and take my time licking and kissing and sucking you all over. I want to taste every inch of your skin before I bury my face between your legs,” he said, dropping his hand to her jeans and cupping her. She moaned as he felt how hot she was through her clothes.

“Are you going to do it here?” she asked, and she sounded so damn desperate and hungry and horny that he was dying to strip her jeans to her ankles, kneel before her, and taste her heat. But no. He had patience. He was going to have her when he had time to feast.

“No,” he whispered. “But when I do, it’ll be like this.” He angled her head slightly, then flicked his tongue gently over her parted lips. She gasped, shuddering as he lightly brushed his lips over hers. He ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her mouth, as if he were tasting her sweetness. The possibility of lapping up her sweet pussy electrified him, sending heat roaring through his blood as he licked her as if he was going down on her. She trembled in his arms as he showed her precisely how he intended to lavish attention on her, how he’d kiss and suck and then devour her. God, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly. On his mouth, flooding his tongue, all over his lips, drenching his chin. He kissed her like that. Like a man consumed. Like a man who had to have her, taste her, touch her. His hands clutched her cheeks, his lips fused to hers, and his mind raced with images, sensations, and fantasies about how she’d taste with her legs wrapped around his neck, writhing and bucking as she grabbed his hair and came hard on his tongue.

Fuck.

He couldn’t take it anymore. In a mad fury, he unzipped her jeans, and dipped his hand inside her panties. Oh hell. This was wetness. This was lush, delicious heat. He stroked her and in seconds his fingers were coated.

“Look at you,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Look at how fucking wet you are.” He pulled his hand out of her panties and brought his fingers to his mouth. His eyes rolled shut as he tasted her—like sex. She tasted like sex and lust. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him hungrily, jaw agape.

“Don’t tease me,” she said, gripping his shoulders.

“I’m not going to tease you. I just needed a taste,” he said, then returned his hand to her panties, sliding his fingers in the delicious crease between her legs. The stairwell was dark and echo-y and every sound, every moan bounced on the heavy walls as he stroked her.

“I want you to taste me soon. I want you to eat me. I fantasize about it all the time,” she said on a sexy groan as he rubbed her clit, a hard little diamond—swollen, wet and begging for his touch. He slipped a finger inside her heat, thrilling at the instant reaction it elicited from her. She clasped a hand over her mouth, capturing her own moan. Her knees buckled, and he used his free hand to steady her. Gripping her hip, he moved his mouth to her ear. “Fuck my hand,” he told her.

She rolled her hips, riding his fingers as he thrust inside her tight channel. “You fantasize about me a lot? About me eating you?”

“Yes,” she moaned as she rode his fingers. “God yes. Every night.”

“You think about me fucking you?”

“Fucking your hand. Fucking your face. Fucking your dick. I picture it all,” she said, her voice broken and breathy as she rocked into his touch.

“God, I love how much you want to fuck me,” he said, in a ragged voice. His dick was so hard it was practically staging a mutiny in his jeans. It was ready to bust out and take over. To sink in and spend the whole night inside her.

But he wanted her pleasure more. Her release. Her bliss. And he knew how to find it. He knew the way around her body because he’d never wanted anyone with this kind of raging intensity. He crooked his finger, hitting that magic spot that sent her flying. She curled her fingernails into his shoulders, digging in, holding on, as her mouth formed a perfect O. He sealed his lips to hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure as she came hard on his fingers in the stairwell.

“The Mob Museum is closing in ten minutes. Attention, museum-goers. The Mob Museum is closing in ten minutes. If you don’t wish to spend the evening with the ghost of Bugsey Siegel, we strongly suggest you wrap up your visit. Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” the voice on the loudspeaker said in a Jersey accent.

Elle’s shoulders shook, whether from laughter or the aftershocks of her orgasm or both—it was hard to tell. But deciphering the finer meanings of her reaction took on less importance than his need to be inside her.

Now.

CHAPTER NINE

“Come with me,” he said, quickly zipping her jeans, straightening her top, and guiding her in her woozy, buzzy state back into the exhibit hall, where a security guard dressed in black barked, “Closing time in ten minutes.”

Colin saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Elle kept her head down, her hair forming a curtain around her face as he led her through the made men room, down a hall, and to the bathroom. He pulled the door open, locked it behind them, and grabbed her waist.

“Put your hands on the sink now.”

Obeying, she slammed her palms against the marble counter.

“Look at me in the mirror,” he said, and she met his gaze in the reflection as he yanked her jeans down her legs. “These jeans are so fucking tight,” he muttered as he kneeled, tugging them to her knees, then just below. He stood back up, and tapped her ankle with his foot. “Spread wider.”

She obliged as he unzipped his own jeans and rolled on a condom.

She bent her back and lifted her ass, and he smacked it once with his palm. “Can’t resist,” he said playfully. “Too tempting.”

“Don’t resist.”

“Never,” he said, and slid the head of his dick against her heat. “So wet. Did I do all this to you?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“I’m pretty sure this is the eighty-seventh pair of panties you’ve melted right off me,” she said with a sexy glint as he rubbed himself against her. His dick was pointing its way home, begging to be deep in her, but oh, did he love just savoring the slickness before he sank inside. He fucking loved coating his dick in her slippery heat before he felt her clench around him.

“Eighty-seventh? That’s it? I need to work harder.”

“Speaking of hard—”

Her words were silenced as he buried himself in her. “Oh fuck, Elle,” he said on a groan, as he savored that intense moment when he was first inside the woman he craved. He picked up the pace, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her amber eyes were glossy and full of lust, and her cheeks were rosy from the glow of her first orgasm. “I love looking at you as I make you come. I want to watch you fall apart again as I fuck you,” he said, low and husky in her ear.

“I want that too. So badly.”

Setting a fevered rhythm, the second hand ticking in their ears, he stroked into her. She moaned on each thrust, panting as he filled her. “You tasted so damn good on my fingers,” he said huskily. “I can’t wait to have you. When I do, I’m going to show you exactly why you came so many times alone at night thinking of me.”

“I did, Colin. I did,” she said, swiveling her hips as he pumped into her. “I thought about fucking your face all the time.”

Oh hell. Those words were like a straight shot of lust through his bloodstream. They set him on fire. They flipped switches all over. He groaned deeply. “I bet you were saying all sorts of filthy things to me in your head. I bet as you fucked yourself alone in bed you were saying Oh Colin, fuck me with your tongue. I want to ride your face. Did you say that?”