Before now, time had slowed its forward march, but with his soft, beautiful mouth moving against hers, urgency seared through her with desire unsated. Time sped up and, of a sudden, there wasn’t enough of it.
At least, not for them.
It had been two weeks—and she felt it desperately.
Her arms tightened around his neck, bringing her body tight against his, her nipples pressed into his chest. He groaned intoher mouth, as her legs hooked around his waist, bringing the rigid length of his manhood hard against her sex, pulling a gasp from her and a ragged groan from him.
More…she needed more.
Impatience guided her hand between their bodies and had trembling fingers grazing across his shaft.
“Bea,” he groaned—pleaded—against her mouth.
All that stood between her and what she wanted was a thin layer of superfine.
A barrier easily resolved by determined fingers.
Only the flick of a few buttons and she would have it—him inside her.
She’d already moved to the second button when his hand closed around hers. On a frustrated cry, she broke from his mouth. “What are you thinking of?”
“You, of course.”
She couldn’t countenance the smile curling the corner of his mouth.
“Today,” he continued with a patience that just might stir her to wrath, “we’re going about matters in the correct order.”
She attempted to remove her hand from his. He only tightened his grip. Oh, she was definitely becoming stirred to wrath. “What are you on about?”
“You…first.”
“Me…first?” The man was making no sense.
Enigmatically, he nodded and shifted backward. Oh, the wickedness in his smile as his hands closed around her thighs and applied gentle pressure.
Uncertainty pulsed through her for a few, quick heartbeats of time, but quickly gave way to a stronger feeling—curiosity. Whatever it was he had planned, she wanted to know.
He angled down and pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. It felt…naughty…and delicious…and it tickled.
A giggle sprang from her.
He kissed her again—higher. Then yet higher, as he trailed slow, warm kisses up the interior of her thigh. When she thought he couldn’t go any higher, she feltit—the slick, velvet brush of his tongue along her slit.
Every cell in her body sparkled into effervescence, and she gasped. His eyes remained steady upon her, a question within those aquamarine depths. “Some women don’t like this.”
Beatrix knew in an instant—she wasn’t one of them.
Yet she said, “Then I think that leaves us with but one option.”
How very unlike itself her voice sounded.
“Which is?”
“For you to do it again so I can decide what sort of woman I am.”
It was a game and,oh, how she wanted to play.
He shifted forward on a low chuckle and again slid his tongue along her. Pleasure rippled through her as her head tipped back and he offered her a pleasure unlike any other with his tongue.
