My Lesson With the Sexy Dance Instructor"That woman is trouble," I reminded myself out loud. Reaching for a paper towel, I dried my hands still looking down.
"Who's trouble?" Lilith's voice sounded. Snapping my head up, she was directly behind me. Turning around, I faced her. She was too close. I expected her to step back. She only stepped forward. A lump got caught in my throat and I tried to swallow around it.
"Do you need to ask?" My voice came out much steadier than I thought it would. For that, I was proud of myself. The last thing she needed to know was how much she threw me off track. Her having the upper hand and her knowing she had it was two different things. I had a feeling this woman was like a shark in the water. If she smelled blood, my weakening resolve, she'd attack. Maybe she already knew.
She knew I was talking about her. Who else would I be talking about? No one in my life was causing me trouble, at the moment. I'm sure that was all going to change soon, but for now it was peaceful. Simple. She was making things complicated.
"No not really" she replied. Her hand came up, her fingers touching my shoulder. Coming down, they moved across my arm. A trail of heat was left in the wake of her touch.
My body was a city and she was an earthquake. Nothing would ever be the same after she rocked me. She was rocking everything. All my strong convictions to leave women alone were quickly crashing to the ground. I could never have someone while I lied to them.
I would always have to lie to her but, damn, she was making it hard to remember why not mentioning my past was unfair to any future partner.
"Lilith," I spoke her name. It was supposed to come out like a warning. It didn't have enough power behind it. My breath had departed and I was choking on the little bit of oxygen that she hadn't sucked from my lungs.
"Yes, Miss Bennett?" Her voice was soft. I knew what she was trying to do. Seduce me. That was clear from the moment her fingers had touched my shoulders. I couldn't let her do that. I shook my head. Her fingers touched mine, wrapping them together. She was too close. Her breast pressed to me. I drew a shallow breath.
"Hadley," I tried her last name. It sounded no better than her first. She lifted onto her toes. Her lips touched the corner of my mouth. The last breath in my lungs rushed out.
"You smell like pie," she muttered, her lips so close they brushed against mine as she did so. "Apple," she added. Her free hand touched my waist. This was insanity. I was going to combust at this rate.
"Please," I whispered. What the hell was I saying please for? Please, stop? Please, more? What did please mean at this moment in time?
"Please what," she said. Her lips brushed over mine. Her hand on my waist moved lower. It touched my hip and I shook my head. I was the one who came onto women. They got lost in me. This was upside down. I wasn't supposed to be short of breath and losing my head.
I shook my head. Our lips brushed together still. Why wasn't I pulling back? All this protest and none of the actions. It didn't do a lick of good. I swallowed hard. Lifting my hands, I placed them on her shoulders. Instead of pushing her away as I planned, they rested there. Not pulling her closer, but not removing her from my personal space.
"Just stop fighting it"she said, her hand touching my waist again. "I know you feel it too." I groaned. This was madness.
"Just this once," I insisted. My mouth dropped against hers before she could answer. Opening her lips, she accepted my tongue. Our mouths slotted together as our tongues slid next to each other. Lifting my hand, I tangled it in her soft hair. Pulling her head back, I got a better angle. Moving my mouth over hers, she moaned low. It was soft and made my insides swell with an indescribable emotion.
She filled me with her smell, her taste. The feel of her hair under my fingers was as exciting as her tongue touching my own. Her body pressed against mine harder. I could feel her fingers twist in the fabric over my waist. My lower back was against the sink and it was the only cold part on my body. The rest was like a match. Her touch had been the strike box that set me ablaze.
This intimate action was going to be the death of me. She was going to be the death of me. Right now, Alaska Bennett was dying, and I didn't care in the slightest as she sucked the air from my lungs and life from my denial of her.