He groaned and slid his hands higher, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her sweater. Even that light touch sent electricity racing through her body, pooling low in her belly. Sorcha arched into his touch, craving more.
“Are you sure?” Christopher asked, his eyes searching hers.
In answer, Sorcha reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The cool air prickled her skin, but she barely noticed, too caught up in the naked hunger that flashed across Christopher’s face.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his hands hovering just above her skin as if he were afraid to touch something so precious.
Sorcha took his hands in hers and placed them firmly on her waist. “Touch me,” she whispered. “Please.”
His palms were warm against her skin as they slid up her ribcage to cup her breasts through her bra. His thumbs traced circles around her nipples, which hardened instantly under his touch. Sorcha couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her lips.
Christopher lowered his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. He traced a path of kisses down her collarbone, across the swell of her breast, to the edge of her bra. His hands reached around to unhook the clasp, his movements sure and steady despite the tremor she could feel running through him.
The bra fell away, and Christopher drew back slightly to look at her. The naked admiration in his gaze made Sorcha feel more beautiful than she ever had before.
“Youare overdressed,” she said, reaching for the buttons of his flannel shirt.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, clumsy with desire. Christopher helped her, their hands tangling until the shirt hung open, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair. Sorcha slid her hands inside, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the solid warmth of him beneath her palms.
His skin was hotter than seemed possible, as if a fire burned just beneath the surface. When she pressed her chest against his, skin to skin at last, the contact pulled a groan from deep in his throat.
Their lips met again, hungrier this time, deeper. Christopher’s hands roamed her back, her waist, cupping her bottom andpulling her hard against him. She could feel his arousal pressing against her through their jeans, and the evidence of how much he wanted her sent a fresh wave of heat through her body.
“Bedroom,” she gasped against his mouth.
In one smooth motion, Christopher lifted her into his arms. Sorcha wrapped her legs around his waist, amazed at how easily he carried her weight. He walked them to the bedroom without breaking their kiss, his steps sure despite his obvious distraction.
When they reached the bed, he lay her down with exquisite gentleness. Sorcha watched, breathless, as he straightened and looked down at her. The raw desire in his eyes made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. But totally his.
Christopher’s hands went to the button of her jeans. “May I?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that she felt in her bones.
Sorcha nodded, lifting her hips to help as he slid the denim down her legs. Her underwear followed, leaving her completely exposed to his gaze. Rather than feeling self-conscious, she felt liberated, beautiful, and wanted.
“Your turn,” she said, nodding toward his jeans.
“Not yet,” Christopher replied with a slow smile that sent shivers down her spine. “I want to taste you first.”
He kneeled beside the bed, his large hands encircling her ankles, gently spreading her legs. Sorcha’s breath caught as he pressed his lips to the inside of her calf, then her knee, then higher, working his way up her inner thigh with agonizing slowness.
By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, Sorcha was trembling with need. His breath was warm against her most sensitive flesh, making her squirm in anticipation. When hefinally tasted her with one long, slow stroke of his tongue, she cried out, her back arching off the bed.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his words adding to the sensation.
Sorcha’s fingers twisted in the sheets as Christopher continued his expert exploration. His tongue circled her sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure, while his fingers teased her entrance. When he finally slid one thick finger inside her, she moaned his name, her hips rising to meet him.
He added a second finger, stretching her deliciously as he curled them to stroke that perfect spot inside her. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue, it was overwhelming. Sorcha felt herself climbing rapidly toward release, her body tightening like a bowstring about to snap.
“Christopher,” she gasped, one hand releasing the sheets to tangle in his hair. “Oh…”
“Let go,” he urged, his fingers moving faster, his tongue more insistent. “I want to feel you come.”
His words pushed her over the edge. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, her inner walls pulsing around his fingers as she cried out. Christopher didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she tugged at his hair, oversensitive and breathless.
He rose to his feet, looking down at her with an expression of masculine satisfaction that made her heart skip. His hands went to his belt, and Sorcha watched, still panting, as he stripped off his remaining clothes.
When he stood naked before her, she couldn’t help the soft “oh” that escaped her lips. He was magnificent. Broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, strong thighs, and his arousal… Larger than she’d expected, but perfect. Like the rest of him.
Christopher moved to join her on the bed, covering her body with his. The weight of him, the heat, the feel of skin against skin everywhere…it was intoxicating.
