“I don’t want to stop. I want you, and I’ve waited so long.” Her hands tugged his shirt from his trousers.
“No.” He gripped her wrist, but she shook free, and he shuddered as she touched him. The palm of one hand slid under his shirt and stroked his chest.
“This… we.” Both her hands were there now, and her lips pressed to his.
He was lost under her spell, and suddenly he stopped fighting.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
She’d never wanted a man like this. Yes, she’d been kissed by other men, and yes, she’d found some attractive but not like this. Her head swam, and her body felt different. Everything ached for more. More of his kisses and more of his touch.
Dorrie and Somer had recently schooled her in what a man liked. About making love, and one of the things was pulling a man’s shirt from his trousers and sliding her hands beneath. She’d done this and felt Warwick shudder.
“Who taught you that?” His hand was under her hair, cupping the back of her neck. He said the words against her lips, and then he was kissing her again, and she forgot where her hands were. Forgot to breathe.
“I’ve dreamed about you, Samantha. Imagined what your skin would feel like under my hands. The weight of your breasts in my palms.”
They felt heavy at his words. Nipples tight.
“Yes,” she managed to wheeze out.
He pulled back, and her hands slid from his chest. Samantha looked into his lovely green eyes as his fingers moved to her buttons and slowly undid them.
“Can I remove your nightdress, Samantha?” His face was serious.
This man could be so gentle when he felt it was needed. She managed to nod, and his hands went to the hem, and slowly, he lifted it up her body and over her head.
She fought the urge to cover herself.
“I imagined you.” His fingers trailed up one arm and stroked her neck. “But nothing came close to this. You bewitch me, Samantha.”
One hand cupped her breast, and his thumb ran over her nipple. This time it was she who shuddered.
“T-take off your shirt, Warwick.”
He released her and did as she asked, pulling it over his head.
“You are beautiful, Warwick.” His skin was warm to the touch and his body was made up of smooth slopes and planes of skin over muscle.
“No. You are beautiful.” He bent to place a soft kiss on the curve of her breast.
“The d-door, Warwick.”
He got off the bed and locked it.
“Should we… in Dev and Lilly’s house?”
He climbed back onto the bed. On his knees, he moved to where she knelt, stopping inches from her before he pulled her body into his.
“We definitely should. My family sleep like the dead, and we are on this floor all alone. The children are not here but at our aunt and uncle’s.”
He kissed her again, and when he lowered her to the bed and followed, she found no more reasons to think of anything but Warwick and how he made her feel.
His hands traced every part of her body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. His lips came back again and again to hers.
She sighed as he took his time building the tensions inside her until finally his hand stroked over her belly to the soft curls beneath. When he touched her there and ran a finger over the damp folds, she moaned deep in her throat, arching into him.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I want to taste every inch of you, my love. But not now, tonight. We have a lifetime for that.”
