My mouth opens, my moan is soft as it glides from my tongue to his, and?—
He groans, tightens his hold, the kiss intensifying. But it’s not deep, not a tangle of lips and tongues, our hands moving to remove clothes and stoke desire. It’s…sweet.
So beyond sweet my eyes prickle with tears and my heart rolls over in my chest, and I can’t help but be sweet back. I trail my hands along his back and bring them forward, resting themon his pecs, feeling the strength of him, the warmth of him, the way his pulse pounds as rapidly as mine.
There’s need in the rigid control of his body, but he doesn’t release it.
Instead, he keeps the kiss gentle, reminding me of all the soft times, the easy times—stolen embraces in the garden, raindrops pattering on our heads when we got carried away and didn’t see the weather change. Brushes of lips when he woke me in the morning, when we passed each other in the hall, when I came into his office to see him in the middle of the day, or when we stole down to the kitchen for a midnight snack.
So many memories.
So much good.
That’s why ithurt.
And I don’t want to hurt, not right now.
I don’t want to think, don’t want to miss and need andache.
I just…want.
So freaking much.
And…hell, it’s like just thinking that has everything I’ve been feeling exploding out from behind that shield I erected, the barrier that’s continued to erode with each and every minute I’ve spent in his presence.
My nails dig into his chest and I press closer, loving the way his arms band tighter, his groan rumbles from his throat and into mine.
The kiss…oh God, this kiss isn’t sweet.
It’s deep and it’s wet and?—
“Oh!” I gasp as he rises to his feet, spinning and moving to the bed. He drops me on the mattress and comes over the top of me.
“Fuck.” His lips trail along my jaw. “You are so damned beautiful.”
I shiver, but that ice inside me has broken open and I’m feeling…so damned much.
The soft silk of his hair, the strength of his body, the heat of his skin, the slightly roughened tips of his fingers as he dips them under the hem of my shirt and trails them along my side.
“I’m different.” My head drops back to the mattress, a moan tumbling from my lips as he kisses a sensitive part of my throat.
“But you’re still you.”
I shudder as the words vibrate through me, as they heal some wound deep inside me.
Then his fingers slide lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my pants, skating over my skin. Sensation explodes through me and instinct takes over.
Pleasure.
This man has given me pleasure, so much pleasure my body takes over, knows exactly what to do.
I part my legs, give him room to work.
And, God, heworks.
Lightly drifting his fingers down, cupping me over my underwear and that big, hot hand has a moan tumbling from my lips, my hips arching, pressing more firmly against his palm. My need gathers, growing slick and damp, and his wolfish smile tells me what he’s thinking, even before he says it.
“See? You’re still you.”
