His hands were everywhere then.
Slipping down my back, sinking into my ass, then gliding up under my shirt—cool fingers on warm skin—until his hand closed over my breast.
My moan drifted down the hallway as his hand yanked down the front of my bra and closed over me without the barrier.
He cupped me, squeezed. Then his fingers circled, flicked, pinched.
My hand shifted up, working at the clasp of his belt before pulling it free and focusing on his button and zipper as he moved across my chest to continue the sweet torment.
I was already shaky with need, the pressure tightening in my core.
Before I could reach inside and close my hand around his length, he was pulling just out of reach.
He pulled off my jacket, dropping it to the ground at our feet. Then his fingers were at the hem of my shirt, drawing it up until it, too, was forgotten on the floor.
My barely-there leisure bra was next, the front clasp worked free, my breasts free with one flick.
A low groan built deep inside Harrison as his gaze dipped, as he took me in.
He stared so long I started to shift my feet.
But then his head dipped, his soft hair whispering over my skin as he sucked my nipple into his mouth.
My hand slapped to the back of his neck, holding him against me as he sucked and sucked and sucked until I arched into the sensation.
Then it was all tongue and teeth, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
His head shifted, lips and tongue and teeth continuing to drive my need higher.
Even the brush of his warm breath dragged like silk over bare skin—soft, slow, and too much.
“Harrison,” I whimpered.
I wasn’t sure what I was asking for, but he heard the need; he knew how to ease it.
His head shifted between my breasts, his lips kissing lower and lower as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
Heat pooled low in my belly, a heavy, liquid ache, as he tilted his head up, his molten gaze watching my reaction as his hands worked my button and zipper free, then dragged my pants and panties down my legs.
Once I stepped out of them, his hand glided up the back of my calf before grabbing me behind my knee and lifting my leg off the ground.
My hips arched without thinking, leaning closer, silently begging for more as he rested my leg over his shoulder.
Then he was where I needed him most, his tongue tracing up the core of me.
My breath caught and flipped, like it tripped over its own need as a shaky whimper escaped me.
My hands went to the back of his neck as his tongue started to work my clit, unraveling me with every flick.
My gasp told him where to touch, and he didn’t hesitate.
I was caught somewhere between gasping and begging, teetering on the edge of something too sharp to name as time bent, stretched, suspended, leaving me hovering in that breathless in-between.
The pleasure bloomed so violently it stole my thoughts, stripped me bare as I came apart, hips jerking, toes curling, body surrendering to the rush.
I was left gasping afterward, my muscles shaking as his head shifted, kissing my inner thigh, then moving up my belly.
I felt perfectly off-balance as the world narrowed to nothing but him.
