“I know,” I say, my lips against the cotton of his shirt. “I get it.” I tilt my head back and look up into his eyes. “That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
“Then let me try to make it better.” He eases me away from his body, then bends down to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Is that where it hurts?”
I shake my head as tears tease my eyes and a small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“No? Then how about here?” His lips brush my jawline, and I suck in a breath, undone by the sweetness of his touch.
“No,” I say, and my smile is no longer tremulous.
This time, his lips find the indentation at the base of my throat. I tilt my head back, giving him better access, and feel my pulse beat wildly against his lips. “That’s not it either,” I whisper.
“Tricky,” he says. “How can I kiss it and make it better if I can’t even find it?”
“Keep looking,” I say.
“I’ll never stop,” he promises. His lips drift down, pausing over my heart that is pounding in my chest. “Not here, surely,” he says, then moves on as I laugh, the sound cut off by a raw, sensual cry when his mouth closes suddenly over my breast.
“Damien!”
His arms around my back support me as he suckles me through the silky material of this insanely expensive dress. His teeth graze my sensitive nipple, and I arch back, lost in a desperate haze of pleasure.
“Here?” he murmurs, his lips never fully releasing me.
“Yes,” I say. “Oh, God, yes.”
“I’m not so sure,” he says when he takes his mouth off me. “I’d better keep looking.”
He shifts me gently off his lap and lays me down on the soft grass, his legs straddling my waist.
“Damien,” I murmur. “What are you—“
He hushes me with a finger, then leans over me, his mouth on my breast again. I groan with pleasure. “I told you,” he says. “I’m going to kiss it and make it better.”