Sunday Snog #206: A Brand New Kiss from Incognito

I’ve got an especially delicious kiss for you today, from the new and expanded edition of Incognito, coming from Totally Bound in the first quarter of 2016. You’re the very first people (other than my editor) to read this!

After you’ve recovered from my snog, head over to Victoria’s place for more weekend kisses from your favorite authors!

“Do you mind if I join you?” The voice was rich and mellow as a premium Scotch, with a posh accent that spoke of education and breeding. “A lovely woman like you shouldn’t be drinking alone.”

She swung back to face the stairs. A man stood opposite her, on the other side of the table. His trim, compact body, clad in an impeccably tailored suit, blocked her view. He wore a designer watch and a gold signet that shone in the muted light. A wealthy older man looking for some company, she thought. He had dark, wavy hair, with a hint of grey at the temples, and knowing eyes framed by laugh lines. Stubble dusted his solid chin, a startling contrast to his otherwise perfect grooming. It gave him a slightly dangerous air.

“I’m sorry—I’m waiting for someone...”

“It appears you’ve been jilted.” Without waiting for her agreement, the stranger seated himself in the chair beside her. His thigh muscles flexed under his trousers. A waft of his cologne, something sharp and woodsy, reached her nose. She swallowed the saliva that flooded her mouth and struggled to speak.

“Waiter! Another round for the lady, please. Glenfiddich for me, straight up.” He leaned closer, close enough that his unfamiliar scent made her dizzy. “Good thing I came along. It would be a great shame to waste this delightful evening.”

Miranda couldn’t understand why she was so flustered. Certainly he was aggressive, but she was an expert at fending off unwanted masculine attention. “My husband—“ she began.

“Is a very lucky man,” he concluded. “Though he’s crazy to let you out of his sight. His loss is my gain, however.”

Something shifted. Something in his voice or his manner triggered sudden recognition. Mark? She almost blurted it out loud, but the stranger’s eyes—Mark’s eyes—held her spellbound. He let his mask slip for an instant. Play with me, he broadcast in that silent gaze. Play out the scene.

Their beverages arrived. Raising the glass to his lips, he let the amber liquid slide down his throat, clearly savouring every drop. “Wonderful,” he commented. She took a tentative sip of her wine. “That’s right. Drink up, sweetheart. Then we’ll go to my room.”

The confidence—no, arrogance—she heard in his voice lit a fire in her belly. He was, quite simply, amazing. He’d turned himself into someone else, so effectively she had to keep reminding herself that the man leaning over and murmuring smutty suggestions in her ear was actually her husband.

She pretended to fight her rising arousal. “Really? What makes you think I’ll go with you?”

“I can read it in your body. I can see it in your eyes. You’re a randy slut who’s dying to be shagged.”

His words kindled delicious shame, electric heat. Liquid gushed into her panties. “No, no. I’m married. I’m here on my honeymoon...”

“Then where’s your bridegroom?”

“Detained, I’m sure. Probably caught in traffic. He could arrive any minute...”

“We’d better be going then. Come along, sweetheart.” He tossed a twenty pound note onto the table, then grabbed her by the elbow to pull her toward the lifts.

“Wait—no...” The elevator doors had barely closed before he had her backed against the wall, pinned by his weight. His breath was hot in her ear.

“Can you honestly say you don’t want me, woman? That you don’t want this?” He ground the hard ridge of his erection into her abdomen.

“No—I—please...”

His mouth silenced her half-hearted objections. Miranda melted. He might look different, smell different, but she knew these ripe lips, this bold tongue. Throwing her arms around his neck, she poured herself into the delirious kiss.

Without relinquishing her mouth, he clawed at her suit jacket, then slipped a hand inside so he could thumb one taut nipple. She moaned into his throat and squirmed in his arms, arching against him. He abandoned her breast, leaving it swollen and aching, to slide his palm up under her skirt. He found the bare skin above her thigh-high stocking. She shuddered as he wormed his fingers into her soaked panties to stroke her pubic fur. Sharp pleasure sparked through her limbs and spiralled into her core.

“You’re drenched, sweetheart,” he murmured, finally breaking the kiss to smear her own moisture across her lips. “Protest all you like. Your body doesn’t lie. You love the idea of a hard, fast, anonymous fuck.”