He tasted like lemonade, sugary and tart. And he felt so warm and strong against her, a wall of brute strength that he’d tamed into tenderness.
When she was in the shower, he must’ve taken the opportunity to wash the road off his face and arms. The twin scents of aftershave and leather oil still clung to his skin, but beneath was the citrusy aroma of fresh soap.
She hooked an ankle behind his knee to better align their bodies and his restraint broke. He no longer followed her lead. Instead, he grabbed her ass—his fingers leaving five perfect divots in each cheek—and bent her backward.
His kisses went from savoring and sweet to ravenous and greedy. And because he’d taken the time to stoke her libido, she welcomed his unbridled passion.
The brawniness of his chest created eye-crossing friction against her nipples. The strength of his thigh against the juncture of her legs had her heedlessly rubbing herself against him, seeking more stimulation. And as she threaded her arms around his neck to pull him even closer, there was no mistaking the hard bulge of his arousal, so thick and insistent and pulsing against the soft curve of her lower belly.
It had been a heady thing to hear Hunter say he wanted her. It was headier still to feel the undisputed evidence of his desire.
“You taste like lemon drops,” he said between long, luxurious, breathtaking kisses. “Sugary and tart. I could kiss you forever.”
“Who’s stopping you?” She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and laved it with her tongue. The man had the most amazing lips. Full and firm and so perfectly made that his cupid’s bow looked like it’d been drawn on by an artist’s exacting hand.
He groaned his pleasure when she bit his lip—not hard; just a little pressure to test the texture of his flesh—and she tucked that bit of information away. That he liked it when she used her teeth.
She imagined softly catching his nipple between her canines and flicking it with her tongue. Fantasized about kissing her way down his corrugated belly and biting the jut of his hip bones. Envisioned taking his thick, turgid length into her mouth and sucking him to near completion only to stop and back him down by scraping her teeth along his length—an erotic warning thatshewas the one in charge and setting the pace, and thatshewas the one who’d tell him when it was time to finish.
Either he read her mind, or they were thinking the same thing, because his lip popped free of her teeth when he hissed, “Fuck me. I want to go slow with you, Grace. But I don’t know if I can. Not this first time.”
“Slow is for sloths and glaciers,” she countered.
One corner of his mouth twitched and she thought he might gift her with one of his rare smiles. Instead, he bent and scooped her into his arms.
With one hand beneath her knees and the other around her back, he had her across the room, through the bedroom door, and in front of the bed before she could do more than blink at the ease with which he carried her.
She wasn’t a small woman. But she felt delicate in his embrace.
Themanin him called to thewomanin her. Where he was hard, she was soft. Where he was rough, she was smooth. The more he pushed, the more pliant she became.
The mattress dipped under his knee. And then…
He lowered her until her back rested against the coverlet, and he was stretched out beside her. His weight depressed the mattress and had her sliding toward him until her side was pressed all along his front.
She expected him to keep up the voracious pace. She was a little disappointed when he suddenly slowed everything down by gently nipping the corner of her mouth before pulling back completely.
When she opened her eyes, she found him propped up on one elbow as he studied her. His hazel eyes looked impossibly green in the soft light shining in through the window above the bed. His lashes were so thick and dark, the kind women the world over shelled out the big bucks for. And when he picked up a lock of her damp hair, running it between his fingers, she thought she caught a hint of a smile.
“I like your hair this way.” His voice had dropped an octave. She’d heard of bedroom eyes, but a bedroom voice? That was a new one. “It’s longer now.”
“You have more hair too.” She ran a hand over his neatly trimmed facial hair. It was too long to be called stubble but probably too short to qualify as a beard. The devil in her, the one who was always hanging around but wasparticularlyfeisty when she was panting with lust, had her adding, “I like it. I’ve always enjoyed a well-upholstered seat.”
It took a second for her meaning to sink in. But she saw the instant it did because his nostrils flared with desire at the same time humor glinted in his eyes. Then he did the most amazing thing.
He laughed.
Not a simple snort or even a respectable chuckle. But a full-bodied, full-throated laugh that was low and rumbly and so much more special than it might have been otherwise because the man was too serious by far.
Which, of course, only made her want to give him joy. Make him smile. Pull laughter out of him again and again until that shadowed look she sometimes saw in his eyes disappeared forever.
“I swear, woman,” he wheezed when he finally lowered his chin. “I usually know what people are going to say before they say it. But the stuff that comes out of your mouth sometimes catches me off guard.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Doing and saying what’s expected is boring. Much better to keep folks on their toes.”
“You know, I thought you were sexy the first time I saw you. But it was your sense of humor, the uttersassof you that kept me fantasizing about you for the last three years.” He slid her a seductive glance. “Well, your sass and that red cocktail dress. Do you still have it?”
“Mmm.” She nodded, thinking back to the night of the fundraiser when her little sister had FaceTimed her anddemandedshe wear the dress they’d purchased on a recent girls’ trip.
