“Beautiful,” he growled.
She bit her lip, and he wanted to bite it too. Wanted to taste every part of her.
He moved his hands to the clasp at her back, and she helped him, shrugging out of the straps. When he freed her breasts, he couldn’t stop the groan that tore from his throat.
“Christ. Fern.” Her name was a prayer.
He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They pebbled under his touch, and she gasped, head falling back against the wall.
“You like that?” he asked, doing it again.
“Yes.”The word was barely a whisper.
He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. She cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there. He sucked and licked, then switched to the other side, giving it the same attention until she was writhing against him.
“Crew, please.”
“Please what, honey?”
“More. I need more.”
He straightened, his hands going to the button of her jeans. “These need to go.”
She nodded frantically, helping him shove the denim down her hips. He dropped to his knees, pulling the jeans off completely, along with her boots and socks. When he looked up, she was standing there in nothing but pale pink panties that matched the bra, her chest heaving, her eyes locked on him.
“You’re killing me,” he said, running his hands up her calves, over her knees, along her thighs.
“Good.” Her voice shook, but her smile was pure mischief.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and dragged them down, tossing them aside. Then he was staring at her, all of her, and his mouth went dry. The short, reddish-brown curls covering her mound left him with no question whatsoever that her hair color was real.
“Crew.” There was uncertainty in her voice now, and he couldn’t have that.
He pressed a kiss to her hip. “You’re so damn perfect.”
Another kiss, lower. Her breath hitched.
“I’m going to taste you now.” His voice was rough with promise and his tenuous grip on control. “And you’re going to let me hear every sound you make.”
“Yes.” A shiver rolled through her.
He guided her to the bed, and she came willingly, sitting on the edge. He knelt between her legs, palms spreading her thighs wider.
“Lie back.”
She obeyed, and he couldn’t stop looking at her—splayed out on his bed, flushed and wanting. For him.
He kissed the inside of her knee, then higher, trailing his mouth along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She squirmed, and he gripped her hips, holding her still.
“Patience.”
“I don’t have any,” she panted.
He chuckled against her skin. “You will.”
When his mouth finally found her center, she arched off the bed with a broken cry. He trailed his tongue down her seam, nice and slow, until her fingers found his hair and she twisted them in the too-long locks.
With a groan, he teased her open. As soon as he tasted her liquid heat, his cock gave a hard surge against his fly.
