Monday just got hot! More sexy fun with Nick and Mia
from Beguiled: Frost Trilogy 1.
Persistence thy name is Nick Frost…
* * *
Frost is leaning against the opposite wall, his jacket open, hands in his trouser pockets.
Oh God and there’s that smile again; that smile that could be my undoing; that smile that makes me want to bite his bottom lip and has my heart instantly hammering in my chest.
Christ, I’m pathetic.
‘Was there something else?’ I curse the waver in my voice betraying how affected I am by his presence, which is all the more potent because we’re alone together.
Moving with a leisurely grace, he pushes himself off the wall. ‘I’m leaving. I just wanted to say goodbye.’
Oh. This is a surprise. That’s it? No more pursuing me? What happened to whatever it takes? You’re just going to go?
Well good. This is what I want after all. Isn’t it..? So why do I feel disappointed?
He looks questioningly, as if he expects something more.
‘It was nice to see you again.’ Why did I say that? Seeing him again is many things: disconcerting, disturbing, tempting as all hell definitely, but nice?
I gulp as he narrows his eyes dangerously.
‘Nice? Is that all?’
In a heartbeat he’s closed the gap between us and I find myself taking three rapid steps backwards as he pushes me against the wall. I’m stunned by the suddenness of his move on me and slightly winded.
Instinctively I raise my hands in defence, but he grabs my wrists, pinning my arms against the wall either side of my head, his big body caging me.
I should feel terrified, but I’m not. I could get him away from me if I really wanted to. One swift, hard knee between his legs would probably sort him out long enough for me to make my escape. But it’s not my knee I want to put there. My head may be shocked, but my body is on fire; incredibly turned on by the raw sexual heat that’s coming off him in waves.
His gaze searches mine, brows knitting like he’s perplexed by me; by what’s happening. He’s confused? I’m totally confounded!
He’s so close I can smell his breath – all minty fresh. He hasn’t been drinking, so I can’t put his behaviour down to alcohol.
Leaning in, he brushes his lips over mine ever so lightly, before running his mouth across my cheek, feathering kisses down my neck and sending a wakeup call directly to my groin.
A moan escapes my mouth as he finds my weak spot: that sensitive place where my neck meets my collar bone. And my eyes close involuntarily.
This is so out of order and I know I should be fighting him off, stopping this, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.
‘You feel it too, don’t you?’ he whispers, his voice hoarse with lust.
I moan incoherently; the delectable attentions of his mouth having me way past the ability to speak.
‘Say it,’ he demands softly. ‘I need to hear you say it.’
* * *