Champagne Kisses (17 page)

“What happened?”

“She had mercy, didn’t tell my father. I went into the bathroom, washed it off and wore a fresh-face sulk for the rest of the night. Then there were the rap CDs I had to hide and the toe ring I’d slip on when out of parental radar range. But I wasn’t a drinker, never did drugs. Aside from a crazy stunt I pulled in college, it was all pretty tame.”

“What happened in college?”

“Something I wish had not occurred.”

This time, thankfully, Donovan let the subject pass. They continued to converse and, once dinner was over, took the dishes back into the house and put away the foodstuffs. “Leave the dishes,” Donovan said when Marissa asked about a dishwasher. “My housekeeper does them.”

“Dinner was wonderful, Donovan. And so is your home.”

“Are you ready for the rest of the tour?”

“Of course!”

They navigated past the open living space to the upstairs, where he pointed out each of the three bedrooms, including a to-die-for master suite, the three and a half baths and the great room before returning downstairs to Donovan’s favorite spot in the house. It was the room that was next to the patio. A man cave to be sure, but classy, dominated in the center by a custom-made pool table.

“This is nice,” she said.

“You shoot?”

“I do all right.”

“Uh-oh. Those sound like fighting words. Do you want to play?”

“Do you want to lose?”

“Ha! Listen to you. Rack ’em up, shorty.”

They began playing a friendly game of eight ball—Marissa, solids and Donovan, stripes. He’d broken and sank one ball when he did so. He made the next few shots before it was Marissa’s turn. When her time came up, she took a long moment to scrutinize the table, checking her options, chalking her cue. She decided to go for the corner pocket and leaned over, holding the cue stick the way her brother had taught her all those years ago. She was so focused on hitting the ball that she was totally unaware of the pair of chocolate eyes that were focused on her.

They continued playing around the table until only two balls were left: the five ball, which belonged to Marissa, and the eight ball, which Donovan needed to sink to win. Only problem was, her ball was between the cue ball and the eight ball.

“Looks like somebody is in trouble,” Marissa taunted as she looked at Donovan’s impossible situation on the pool table.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Donovan replied, cool as a breeze.

“The way I see it you have two options, either scratch or sink my ball. Either way, I win.”

“And the way I see it,” Donovan said, aiming his cue stick in a way that seemed to point directly at Marissa’s ball, giving her the win, “I have three.” He struck the cue ball with such force that it bounced off the table, jumped over Marissa’s ball, rolled into the eight ball and pushed it right into the pocket.

“Wait! That was a trick shot!” Marissa said with a stamp of the foot.

“A bit competitive, are we?”

“Seriously, how’d you do that?”

“Come here,” Donovan said with a laugh. “I’ll show you.”

She walked over to where he stood. He retrieved the ball and then came up behind her, so that he could guide her hands as she held the stick. “Okay, aim the stick at the bottom of the cue ball, like this.” He guided her arm, being careful not to touch her with the rest of his body, so that it tapped the cue ball at just the right spot, a low spot at the center of the ball. “Feel it? Feel how I’m guiding you and where the cue is supposed to go?”

“I feel something all right,” Marissa said, her voice sultry, her eyes glazed as she turned in his arms.

“Um,” Donovan nuzzled against her neck. “Now look who’s playing dirty.”

She reached around, cupped his behind. That in four days she’d gone from celibate conservative to an insatiable sex kitten wasn’t lost on her. The transition felt good. So rather than think about it, she rolled with it. “Do you have a problem with the moves I’m making?”

“Not at all, my sweet Marissa. I’m getting ready to make one myself.”

* * *

Taking her hand, Donovan led them to the master suite she’d seen minutes ago—the one with ebony wood floors, gray silk walls and navy accents; with the king-size poster bed covered with a custom-made flannel cover. From the game room to the bedroom he held her hand, slowly stroking her palm with his thumb in slow, lazy circles as his tongue had done.

They reached the bed. He turned to face her, drank in her beauty, swept an errant curl behind her ear. “I’m so happy you’re here, in
my
home, getting ready to climb into
my
bed.”

“Me, too. I wasn’t sure if—”

“Shh, I know. Me, either. We’ll deal with that later. Tomorrow.”

Resting his forehead against hers, he reached for the ribbon at the top of her sundress, the one he’d eyed all evening, all dainty and feminine near the curves of her breasts. He pulled and it came undone, exposing the top of her globe. He kissed her there. Once. Again.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“You know it is.”

“Yes, I know.” He was being the gentleman that he’d promised he would that first time they’d come together following the romp in the hay. On her back and shoulders there’d been scratch marks. He’d felt badly and told her so. Saying that she hadn’t felt a thing hadn’t mattered. He’d neglected taking care of his baby and for him that was
so
not okay.

Marissa reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. She stood there, bare, beautiful, in a lacy cream bra and matching thong that emitted a singular message:
snatch me off.
But he didn’t. He took his time because there would be no running off in the morning. Placing his large hands on the lacy cups and squeezing gently, he peered deep into Marissa’s eyes. They kissed again, and it was as if they breathed each other’s air, so deep were they in the exploration of the other’s being, so much did they want to both give and receive. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He noticed the front clasp on the bra and placed his finger on it.

“May I?” he asked.

“You know that you can,” was Marissa’s breathless reply.

He unsnapped her, and her girls swayed their hallelujah. His mouth watered, and he closed his eyes against the rush of desire.
Slow your roll, Don. Take your time. All night, remember?
He reached up and tweaked one nipple and then the other. “Have I told you lately that you’re beautiful?”

“Thank you.”

He placed his mouth where his fingers had been. “You taste good, too.”

Had Marissa been able to remember words at this moment, she would have thanked him again for the compliment. Donovan stepped away, and she instantly missed his touch. His eyes never left hers as he pulled the casual shirt he wore over his head, undid the clasp to his khaki shorts and let them fall to the floor, revealing black boxers and the massive instrument that she’d come to know and love straining the light material. She reached for it, gently outlined it through the fabric before reaching inside and boldly taking hold.

Donovan hissed and stayed her hand. “I want this to be all about you tonight.”

“No way,” she quickly countered. “This is going to be an equal opportunity evening.”

“Then at the very least, may I say ladies first?”

Her chuckle was decadent. “You may.”

He guided them to the bed. They lay down and for a while, he just hugged her. His heart beat a fast and erratic rhythm that matched Marissa’s. And then he began to kiss her, slowly, starting at the temple nearest his lips and then her ear, over to her eyelid, down to her nose and over to her cheek. Finally finding her mouth, he claimed it in a passionate fashion, thrusting his tongue inside her warmth before pulling back and gently biting her lower lip. And the kisses continued, down her neck, over to her shoulder, licking her flesh and relishing the saltiness of her skin. All the while he played lightly with her nipples, teasing them until they stood at attention, begging to be sucked.

He obliged. Marissa squirmed, lost in a haze of desire that only Donovan could create. While he navigated her body like a GPS system, he never took the same journey twice. This time, after taking his tongue on a meandering journey from one nipple to the other, down to her stomach and tickling her navel, he shifted his body and continued the journey south. He trailed a flurry of kisses along her thigh, lightly massaging her legs along the way, his teeth skimming her calves and ankles. Gently spreading her legs, he reversed course. Marissa grabbed fistfuls of comforter, steeling herself against what was sure to be a lethal assault.

It was.

But not in the way she’d expected. His was a soft, delicate approach; handling her body like fine china, her skin like rare silk. He kissed his way to the inside of her thighs and then oh…so…slowly licked the triangle of fabric between them. “I’d like to remove these—” he ran a finger along the fabric’s edge “—and kiss you.” He did, right above the panty line, before placing his hand where his tongue had been. “Here.”

Marissa swallowed.

“Would you like that?”

She nodded.

He bowed his head. She closed her eyes. And felt his tongue lapping at her already slick folds, bidding her to open wide so that he could reach his target. Again, Marissa wondered about the wanton woman who spread her legs so freely and wondered where the woman who could take or leave sex had gone. He pierced her in two, flicking his tongue against her nub and then, without warning, plunged his strong tongue inside her, once and again. Marissa’s breathing increased as she murmured unintelligible sounds. She grabbed his head, silently encouraging him, letting him know that what he was doing was what she was wanting. After what seemed an eternity, he moved over the fabric, flicked her nub with his tongue and that was it. She exploded; seismically, completely—the way she had in the barn that first time, the way that had only happened with Donovan. And all Marissa knew, as she felt herself outside of her body, saw stars and galaxies before floating back down to earth, is that she wanted what had just happened to happen again. And again. And again.

Chapter 26

M
arissa awoke to the sound of birds chirping, and when she opened her eyes, it was to the deep, intense orbs of Donovan staring at her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, pulling the sheet to her chin, a move one could consider comical considering how acquainted Donovan had become with her body last night.

“Does it bother you?” he asked softly, running a finger along the side of her arm. “Me looking at you like this?”

Marissa shrugged. “A little.”

“Well get used to it, woman,” he softly commanded. “Because I intend to be looking at you for a long, long time.”

Marissa swallowed what would have been her attempt at a smart retort. Truth of the matter was, she was so delighted by what she’d just heard that no response was needed.

Donovan continued to run his finger along her arm, then her shoulders and neck and along the side of her face. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, her cheek and temple. Marissa closed her eyes and enjoyed the tender ministrations.

“You know what?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure glad you don’t work for me anymore!”

“Ha! Me, too.” She turned to face him. “I was so worried that it was over—that this was just a fling.”

“I know. Life has thrown you a couple curveballs—translated, knuckleheads—that have shaken your confidence. I can understand that. I’ve been hurt, too. But I’m not them, baby. I’m for real, with no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive. I just want to be with you. That’s all.”

He ran his hand along the curve of her back, over the delicious mound of ass that he’d celebrated last night and along her crevice so he could squeeze juicy cheeks. He swore her body could have rivaled the hills and valleys of their property, the slopes and peaks, the beauty of it all. And won hands down. They enjoyed a leisurely kiss before Donovan continued, “So did you think about what I asked last night?”

“Which question?”

Donovan’s chuckle was low and sexy. He knew which other questions she was talking about.
Can I kiss you? What about here? Can I go deeper? Am I hurting you, baby?
“No, not those. The one about joining me and my family for the holiday celebration.”

“I don’t know,” Marissa said, sighing as she rolled off of him, but only so that she could begin running her hand over his rock-hard abs and down to his rock-hard manhood. She thrilled at how it grew in her hands, made her feel powerful and wanton, wicked and womanly. “How will your family feel with your bringing over someone you just finished working with?”

“They’d make the correct deduction that you are the one with whom I am now sleeping.”

“What? No!”

“Baby, if you’re going to be with me than you’re going to have to get used to a few things, including our close-knit family having very few secrets from each other. Daddy will be humored and Mama will be thrilled. She’s liked you from the jump, since meeting you at the engagement party.”

“So you’ve already talked to them about me?”

“More like the other way around. But I’ve brought you up a time or two.”

“And said what?”

“And that’s the second thing you’ll have to get used to, every question put to a Drake man doesn’t necessarily get answered.”

Marissa swatted his chest playfully before resting her head on it. She didn’t press. For right now, it was enough that they were together, that she was happy, that she now really knew what it meant to make love. Last night’s memories caused her to clench her thighs. She winced, the results of their spirited, sustained lovemaking.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little sore.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, kissing her temple. “You’ll get used to me in time.”

“How do you figure?”

“The more our bodies get acquainted, the easier that sugar box you have down there will let me in.”

“Sugar box? Is that a Southern saying?”

“That’s Papa Dee talking,” Donovan said with a chuckle. “No telling where he got it. He may have even made it up.”