I am not in charge here…
So, so hot.
He moves his mouth to my jaw, my neck, which I expose for him.
“Damn woman, you smell good. And how is your skin so soft?” He murmurs into my skin where he kisses and nips and sucks his way down. He groans and I whimper as I rub my hands up his back. “I want to touch you everywhere. I want to taste you everywhere.”
“You can.”
He freezes and looks into my eyes. “What?”
“You can,” I run my hands down his chest. “We need to scratch this itch, Ben, I’m going insane.”
“You’re going insane?” He starts kissing me again.“You’regoing insane?”
“Yes, at the restaurant tonight, Caveman Ben? That was so hot.” He moves down my neck and I pull at his shirt. “That vest on Halloween.”
“Ugh, Halloween,” he says into my mouth, since our mouths keep coming back together like they can’t stop. “Every time I close my eyes I see you as Catwoman.”
“And look at you now, you’re in jeans and barefoot?! Shirt. Off.”
He shifts us in two quick steps to the kitchen island, setting me down and standing in between my legs. “Scratch the itch, eh?”
“Yes, this is just kickboxing.” I quickly tug my top off. “Your turn. Off.”
He stares, then bends. “In a moment,” he mutters as he kisses my sternum. He moves down, kissing and then licking my cleavage as he pushes his hands on the outsides of my lace bralette. But he’s not actually grabbing, not moving the cups out of his way, not doing any of the things I want him to do.
“Ben,” I plead with him, but he ignores me, nibbling right along the edge of the fabric.
Fine, then. I’ll take over.
I whip the bra off too.
He freezes, staring. I smile, lean forward and finally pull his shirt up so he has to take it all the way off.
Wait.
What the hell?
“What the hell?” slips out as I stare. Because Benedict Clark is jacked. I remember from the wedding at the beach, he was tall and firm, lean, cut like a runner. This man is not a runner. This man is a freaking beast. Defined abs, bulky chest, much bigger biceps than I realized. Huge.
But he doesn’t even hear me. He finally reaches up and takes hold of me, gingerly, like he’s in awe. Chills break out across my skin and he watches my chest harden for him. But his thumb is gentle, teasing. I whimper and lean back to offer myself to him and sigh when his mouth meets my skin. But again, his soft lips and searing tongue travel in an excruciating circle around where I want him most.
“Ben!”
“Private conversation,” he teases into my skin.
“Please,” I can’t believe I say.
He pulls back to look at me, staring into my eyes with a look I don’t recognize, studying, watching for—
“Oh!” I shudder as his eyes watch mine and his hand unexpectedly pinches me, hard. Then his mouth is there, licking, sucking, soothing. “Ben, yes, yes.”
He kisses across to the other side, bites, then soothes again. Then more teasing, light touches, licks, chuckles into my skin on the sides, until he finally sucks so hard I buck off the counter top. I’m moaning, gripping his hair, writhing, I’m a mess. Just from him playing with my tits. This is… I can’t…
He must sense it because he kisses his way back up to my mouth.
“You are so perfect, it’s excruciating,” he says, his voice soft but pained. I kiss the end of the word out of his mouth. Needing more, I grab hold of his gorgeous face but he takes over the kiss anyway, pulling my ponytail.
