Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

between the two, maybe she could have it all.

      “Is that set in stone?” He searched her face, his own expression unreadable.

      “I have to get back to my family,” she said. “Besides, if I stayed I would inevitably make your life messy and disorganized.”

      He pulled her against him, his large hands cupping her face and tilting her up to him. “Maybe you can teach me to be messy while you’re here.”

      Relief swam through her. She couldn’t promise anything, nor could she allow herself to get emotionally entangled with him. But that didn’t mean she was ready to give up the incredible feeling of his hands on her.

      “You couldn’t handle it,” she teased.

      The graze of his lips across her jaw sent a shiver racing down her spine. “Try me, Wren. I dare you.”

      “You dare me, huh? I don’t back down from dares.”

      “I was hoping you’d say that.” His mouth captured hers for one blissful second. One all-consuming, earth-shattering moment.

      It was wrong, she knew that. Wrong to kiss him while she was keeping secrets from him, wrong to allow him to touch her even though their goals were in direct competition. But her body overrode her sensibilities.

      “You’re on,” she said, pulling away.

      She ordered him to sit as she went into the kitchen.

      The man had no idea what he’d started. Anyone from her hometown would know not to dare her unless they expected to suffer the consequences. Once, in high school, she’d gotten herself suspended for letting a duck loose in the library on Kylie’s challenge.

      Grinning to herself, she pulled a jar of chocolate sauce from the cupboard and found a small paint brush. The sauce had been intended to go with the brownies, but now she had a much better use for it.

      “Should I be nervous?” Rhys asked in a way that sounded anything but.

      “No, but you might want to take your top off.” She sauntered back to where he sat, being sure to swing her hips.

      “Is that what I think it is?” He eyed the sauce and divested himself of his T-shirt.

      “We’re going to have a little painting lesson,” she said, ignoring his question.

      With languid slowness, she drew down the zipper on her shorts. She was urged on by the catch in Rhys’s breath as she shimmed out of the denim. It would be so easy to become addicted to the way he reacted to her, as though she were the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

      Under his heated gaze, she might be able to believe it.

      “Ready to get messy?” she asked with a grin.

      “You’d better not be teasing,” he growled. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it properly.”

      “Of course you do.” She set the tub of chocolate sauce down and dipped the brush into it. “Mr. Perfect doesn’t do things by halves, does he?”

      “No, he doesn’t.”

      The brush dripped with sticky, chocolaty goodness. “Last chance to back out.”

      “Not a fucking chance, Wren.” His eyes met hers, his pupils wide and his breathing ragged.

      She climbed into his lap, sauce in one hand and her brush in the other. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against the inside of her bare leg and she made sure to wriggle enough to elicit a groan from him.

      Power surged through her body. She’d never felt like this before, so in control and fiercely sexy. It made her whole body pulse with desire.

      “You’re all mine now,” she whispered as she streaked the chocolate across his chest. “All dirty and all mine.”

      Another streak followed, and this time she chased the brush with her tongue, catching a flat, dark nipple between her lips. A low, guttural sound emanated from within him as he ground up against her, his hands flying to her hips.

      “You like that?” she teased.

      The brush peppered his skin with sticky marks, her tongue smudging and swirling the chocolate around. She used her teeth, her lips and her hands to mark him. To claim him.

      “Don’t think you’re the only one who gets to have fun,” he said, thrusting his hands into her hair as he pulled her in for a searing, chocolaty kiss.

      Her lips were sticky with sauce and it melded perfectly with the taste of him. “I’m the artist here.”

      His hands were under her tank top, her breasts spilling into his palm. With a rough flick of his thumb, her sex clenched so tight that her breath stuttered. She pressed against him to alleviate the pressure, but it only made her want him more.

      “Damn,” he muttered as he kissed his way down her neck, almost knocking the jar out of her hand. “We need to get you naked.”

      “My hands are full. You’ll have to help me out.”

      She’d expected him to pull the fabric over her head, but instead he grabbed the tank top at the neckline and ripped the whole thing open. The sound of cotton tearing pulled a shocked laugh from her, which dissolved into a heady groan as his mouth came down to her chest.

      “Yes,” he breathed, snaking one hand around her waist as he sat back and raked his eyes over her.

      Dipping the brush into the sauce again, she let the chocolate drizzle over her now-exposed chest. Anything to make him put his mouth on her again.

      “You’re going to have us both covered in this stuff,” he said before dipping his head.

      “That’s the plan.”

      Her head rolled back as he took one nipple between his lips, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. The moment he used his teeth on her—so gentle and yet not quite—her eyes fluttered shut.

      His arm around her waist, strong and sure, kept her from melting to the ground. She wasn’t sure if she could come from simply having his mouth on her breast, but the pleasure spiking hard and fast inside her said it was indeed a possibility. Her whole body tensed and ached for him; it responded to his every touch as though he’d been doing it for years. As though he’d written her instruction manual.

      “You taste so good,” he moaned between her breasts, nuzzling them and nipping at the tender flesh there. “And not just from the chocolate.”

      The spot between her legs throbbed, and she rocked against him, the friction making stars dance before her eyes. She needed him inside her. Soon.

      “There’s somewhere else I want to taste.” He looked up, his eyes black with arousal.

      Feeling bold, she got a little more sauce onto the brush and carefully placed the jar on the ground. “Your turn to be Picasso.”

      With a wicked grin, he took the brush from her and stood, supporting her weight with one arm. The torn tank slipped down her shoulders, and she shrugged it off. Thank god she hadn’t bothered with a bra.

      “I can’t do my best work in this cramped position,” he said. “I want to be able to see all of you.”

      Before she could figure out where he was taking her, he’d placed her softly down on the kitchen table. His gentleness totally belied the rough edge in his voice and the raw excitement on his face.

      Tucking a finger into the waistband of her panties, he dragged them down her legs.

      STANDING IN FRONT of Wren, her body laid out like a feast, he felt as mighty as a god. There was something about her responsiveness that filled him with heady, primal power. With her, he could do anything. Be anything.