“The stockings can stay.”
Stockings or not, Amelia wasn’t sure she’d ever been so naked in all her life as his gaze roved across her from head to toe with a slow deliberation. She trembled with awareness and anticipation. No longer could her gaze hold his, not from shyness, but from a corresponding curiosity.
If he was to know every inch of her body, wasn’t it only fair that she know every inch of his?
And she knew exactly which inches she wanted to know.
Her gaze drifted down the planes and angles of his body until she found what inches she sought.Him…thick and ready…
For her.
He reached for her waist and tugged without force, giving her the option of turning away, of changing her mind.No.That wouldn’t be the story of this night. Again, he tugged, and this time she swayed forward.
His face angled up, the hand at her waist growing firmer in its hold, more intent, his other hand skimming lightly up her thigh. “You have the longest, most beautiful legs in all creation.”
His hand kept moving, over her hip bone, the flat of her stomach, until it cupped one breast. He pulled her forward, and before she knew what he was about his mouth had replaced his hand and his tongue was lazily swirling around her nipple. Lightning sparks of pleasure streaked through her as she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself before her knees gave out from beneath her. Eyes closed, her head tipped back and a long, slow moan escaped her. She’d never known a mouth on her breasts could create such a commotion of raw need in her body.
The hand clutching her waist moved to her bottom. “Perfection,” he murmured against her breast.
A thrill raced through her. She’d long made her peace with the fact that she was more angles than curves, but this man thought some part of her perfection. The idea seduced her as surely as his hands and mouth.
He began trailing kisses up the column of her neck as he drew her closer. Unable to keep the hoyden at bay a second longer, immediacy took over and she inelegantly lurched forward—who had time for elegance?—and climbed atop him so she sat, straddling his thick thighs, her breath coming in short gasps. Later, she would wonder about this daring side that she hadn’t known existed until tonight.
But not now.
Now, her gaze met his on an equal plane and the craving she saw in there sent shivers skittering through her. This gorgeous, glorious, too massive, too masculine man wanted her.
And she wanted him.
How simple—how elemental—was desire.
Parched and hungry for him, she took his face in both hands and drew him in for another kiss, her nipples pressing into his chest. She simply needed his mouth on hers. How deep, how complete was her fall into his kiss that she hardly noticed when his hand began trailing up her thighs and slid beneath her. Then she—oh—noticed. How her sex throbbed and ached in anticipation of his touch. Rough fingers slid along her slit, and she gasped, more sparks flying through her, her entire being concentrated where he touched her…there. Her face angled and her mouth found his neck, the taste of salt and man on her tongue.
“You’re so wet, my sweet,” came a low murmur in her ear, a long groan pouring from her when he found her center. “And so tight.”
She inhaled at the sensation of his long, thick finger entering her. It was a not unpleasant feeling as her sex adjusted around him. With a will of their own, her hips moved in a slow circle and his finger slid in and out of her, in again.
Oh, this feeling…
It was better than prosecco.
“So eager,” he rumbled on a laugh.
A novel sense of urgency began to scratch at her. “I need more,” she rasped.
“And you shall have it.” His gaze went serious. “Touch me.”
Oh.
He didn’t need to tell her where.
She knew.
Her hand slipped between them, down his muscled chest, ridged stomach—oh, the muscular feel of him—lower until…oh. Therehewas. Trembly fingertips feathered down his length.
His head arced back, and a moan escaped him. “Wrap your fingers around me.”
She did. The feel of him.So hard. So big.She squeezed and tugged. “Like that?”
