Resisting the Musician (a Head Over Heels Novel) (Entangled Indulgence) by Ally Blake Page B

orgasms, and ones that tore her apart, and the certainty that this man had it in him to take her there.
    She didn’t tell him any of that. She merely shook her head.
    Which was all the go ahead Dash needed.
    His head dipped, paused, and then—after a string of whispered oaths that touched on wicked temptation and lessons unlearned—he kissed her.
    Lori’s eyes drifted closed on a melting whirl of sensation. Smooth cheeks, warm lips, the slide of his hot tongue simply undoing her.
    His long fingers, musician’s fingers, slid artfully around her neck and up into her hair, making a mess of the twist, a beautiful liquefying mess. Till he had her hair falling over her shoulders, fulfilling his promise to bring it tumbling down.
    And he was right, it felt so good. A cool slippery sensation vying with the heat of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his touch sliding over her shoulder, down her arm, to land on her waist. And there it stayed as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Till her brain was empty, her bones molten, her entire world two meters square.
    She pressed away from the wall to lift onto her toes and thread her fingers through the back of his thick hair. His contented moan creating skitters down her spine. Then his arms wrapped about her waist, hauled her to him, all that hard muscle all hers, as he kissed her till she saw stars.
    Eons later, the kisses slowed. Till they sipped on each other, gently, tenderly. Lori knew she had to stop before she died from the soul deep pleasure pulsing through her. Liquid heat and shivers deep within her very bones.
    Arms around his neck, she dropped her head, resting her forehead against his. And there they breathed, the ins and outs the only sound in the long, empty hall.
    “Is it because I find you so exasperating?” she asked, her voice a whisper that went no further than their little bubble.
    “What?”
    “That this felt so good.”
    “This feels good?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the edge of her jaw.
    “Yes,” she sighed, her head rocking back so her hair snagged on the wallpaper.
    “How about this?” he asked, her skin jumping at his touch on her waist before she sank into it.
    “Mmm hmm,” she managed.
    His touch moved lower, his palm circling her hipbone before his fingers moved down her thigh, found the edge of her dress, slipped beneath.
    “This?” he asked, his voice barely above a rumble as his thumb stroked her inner thigh.
    But she had no words. No sounds. Nothing but feelings rippling through every part of her till her very cells felt stoned.
    And then he kissed her again, gently, wetly. Sweet kisses and body heat. Overwhelming, he was, like a deluge of sensation. Making her feel delicate. Exquisitely fragile.
    Like for once something good in her life wasn’t up to her.
    When things started to tip over into X-rated, Dash pulled away with a growl, moving a good meter away to lean his back against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, finishing the mussing she’d begun.
    Lori stared up at the ceiling, the discreet strip lighting burning shapes onto her retina, and said, “God, I needed that.”
    When Dash said nothing, she found herself filling the silence.
    “Work’s been…a lot, of late, what with also having to keep on top of the whole Callie and Jake shemozzle. Harder still that Callie’s not around so much anymore to…” talk, work, keep me company “…help. Leaving not much time for…” She waved a hand between them.
    She waited for him to laugh, to say you’re welcome . But after long enough she wondered if he’d even heard her, Dash’s voice came to her as a rumble through the wall. “So I hear. I met your assistant.”
    She laughed. “Tracey’s fantastic, but she only has to inhale wine and she’s toasty. Apparently she had a crush on you back in the day.”
    A muscle flickered in his cheek, then, “Apparently she knows about the song.”
    Lori’s belly trembled, like a forewarning. She pressed the spot with both hands.