3

Mira slapped a hand on his chest, but it was like pushing a hard brick wall. He didn't budge.

"This isn't why I came here."

She tried to keep her voice calm, while her body had gone intoinstant meltdown as he had pressed his own to hers.

He lifted a thick, dark eyebrow.

"Isn't it?" He asked, his voice mocking, "Dressed like this?" His fingers trailed to the strings tied behind her neck and tugged on the ends so that they started unravelling.

Mira gasped and held the edges of her dress up against her heaving chest.

He took her mouth, halting any protests she would have made. His lips scorched hers. He tasted of scotch and heated arousal. She was helpless not to respond. He tasted the same, yet different. Uniquely him.

He reached for her wrists, squeezing them gently so that she had no choice but to let go of her dress. He pinned her wrists behind her back, holding them together with one hand, while the other swept her dress down her chest to pool at her waist.

He released her lips so that he could watch her breasts heave, barely covered in her black, lace, demi cup bra.