Praise be!His voice had returned. Just in time too. There were a hundred naughty things he wanted to whisper in her ear.
Her tears added a salty zing to the sweetness of her kiss. And he couldn’t quite believe that Chelsea Duvall, Queen of the Snarky Comebacks, Reigning World Champion of Counterterrorism and All-Around Ace at keeping herself in check—don’t forget the love of my life—had cried in front of him. Had allowed herself to be vulnerable.
More than anything,thatwas what had whipped the whirlwind inside his heart into a frenzy. Because while he loved that she trusted him enough to be completely, emotionally exposed, he knew he would spend the rest of his days making sure she never had reason to shed another tear. He vowed then and there that he would make it his life’s work to bring her nothing but happiness.
And he knew just where to start.
Palming her exquisite ass with one hand, he used the other to cup her head and hold her still for his assault. And itwasan assault. He pillaged. He plundered. He waged a war of teeth and tongues and deep, wet sucks, kissing her with all the pent-up passion inside him.Yearsof pent-up passion. He wanted to set that earthy, unapologetic life force of hers on fire and then watch it burn.
She growled her approval, her hunger, and fisted his damp hair in her hands, meeting him kiss for kiss, suck for suck, sweet teasing bite for sweet teasing bite. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, unabashedly seeking the friction of his sweater against her nipples.
“I want to see you, Chels. I want to look at you,” he whispered against her devilishly talented mouth.
The woman knew how to kiss, that was for sure. When she let herself go and stopped holding back? Holy shit, did she know how to kiss!
Another time, when he wasn’t so eager to do everything, to see everything, totasteeverything, he vowed to spend hours just making love to her mouth. But for now, he needed more.
“Seems I’m not in the mood to deny you tonight,” she panted.
When he met her lusty gaze, there were still tracks of tears glinting on her cheeks. He kissed them away even as he pulled her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed in a heap on the kitchen tiles.
Her hair was still damp. It had a frizzy curl he found adorable. She usually spent thirty minutes in the morning using thick styling cream and some sort of wand-looking iron thingy to straighten her hair. But he preferred her like this. Au naturel. Because she was perfect just as she was.
And speaking of perfect, he was delighted to discover that the bra she was wearing was in her favorite hue. A purple so deep he might have called it eggplant. It set off her bronze skin and emphasized the stark white of the bandage circling her arm. She was so smooth, so silky-looking, especially the tops of her magnificent breasts where they bulged above the cups.
A faint sheen of perspiration dewed her mile-long cleavage. The knowledge that he had caused that heat, that he had been the one to stoke her fire made his cock thrum.
Breath held, he did what he had been waiting a lifetime to do. He raised a hand and gently, with just the tips of his fingers, brushed the silky skin atop one bulging mound. Goose bumps followed in the wake of his caress.
“You’re gorgeous, Chels. I’ve dreamed about having you, seeing you just like this.”
“Have you?” She raised a coquettish brow. “And after seeing me like this, what did you dream about next?”
He wouldn’t have thought anything could drag his eyes away from the visual feast that was her boobs, butthatdid. He stared into her hypnotic copper gaze. Her lids flew at half-mast, but there was no mistaking the avid gleam behind them.
She wanted him to tell her. She wanted thewords. Chelsea Duvall, vixen in purple, liked dirty talk.
Well, babe, you came to the right man.
“I dreamed of pulling the straps of your bra off your shoulders and kissing the sweet skin beneath.” He watched her eyelids sink lower. “Bathing it and soothing it with my tongue.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. Then, when he did exactly what he had described, she purred—actuallypurred! Holy hell!
“I dreamed of unhooking your bra and feeling your breasts spill into my hands,” he murmured against her smooth, delicious shoulder. “Will they be warm, Chels? Will your nipples be hard?”
“Find out for yourself.” Her naturally husky voice had roughened with passion.
“Dirty girl. You’ve dreamed of this too, haven’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
That simple admission made him feel like he’d won the lottery. To know that she had wanted him like he had wanted her, that she had fantasized about him like he had fantasized about her, was the ultimate ego stroke. Had she lain in bed and touched herself like he had?
The visual that bloomed in his head had him wasting no time. He reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra. Or…at least hethoughthe had unhooked it. But then there was another clasp. And another.
Growling in frustration, he looked over her shoulder at the recalcitrant piece of lingerie. “Just how many hooks and loops does this thing have?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Four. Keep going. You’re almost there.”
