Corin laughs, his chest rocking against my back. His hand clenches on my mound, sending tiny bolts of lightning through my bloodstream. Face tucked close to my neck, he turns and rubs his nose on my cheek, marking me with warm, tangy cedar.
“Just what are you trying to do?” His voice is low and growly with the last dregs of sleep.
“Can’t you guess?” I turn my head in hopes of a kiss, but our noses brush instead.
“We’ve only got”—he glances at the clock and his eyebrows lift, darker shadows just visible against the paler expanse of his face—“a half-hour. I want more than that for our first time.”
“Fine, fine, but surely we can indulgesome, start a flame to feed just enough over the day.” I grab his hand and adjust it to press directly on my clit. “Anticipation heightens the pleasure.”
“You did mention liking edging.” He sounds thoughtful. Next moment, he pulls his hand away and slaps my bottom lightly. His whole body draws back. I roll flat on my back, not having realized how heavily I’d been leaning against him.
He looms over me, pulling away the covers and nudging my legs wide enough to kneel between. Without his warmth, chills ripple across my skin. Silky nightgowns are for sleeping next to sexy bodies—teasing, seducing—not for keeping warm. My nipples crinkle as much from that as arousal. I cross my arms over my chest to warm them as I frown up at him.
“A chilly, horny Johanna equals a grumpy Johanna.”
He laughs. “What would you like to do before the alarm goes off? Be as detailed as you want, but anything you don’t specify, I’ll feel free to make up as I go along.”
Thirty minutes and no orgasms, given his desire to wait—just pleasure for the sake of pleasure.
Problem is, we don’t know enough about each other yet to really ride the edge together. For all we’ve been friends and family for years, our awareness of each other hasn’t focused on sex. Acknowledging the attraction between us is just the first step.
We’re each truly uncharted territory.
I shift and adjust my nightgown so it covers what it would if I were standing, or almost. I can’t pull the hem all the way down with Corin sitting there.
“Divide it in half. Fifteen minutes each to map each other and seek hidden treasure. You can go first.” Generously, I lay back, ready to be explored.
Another warm rush of cedar rolls off him. His teeth flash in a hungry smile, visible despite the shadows. He wraps a handaround his pajama-covered cock and squeezes. Then, he sets his hands to either side of my head and hovers, his chest just brushing the tips of my breasts.
Talk about hidden treasure! I hadn’t realized how much strength lurks in his upper body. I lick my lips, anticipating where to touch and press when my turn arrives.
“How about a different division. I map you with my hands, followed by kisses?”
My gaze inevitably goes to his well-shaped mouth. He’s already learned one way to my heart. Much as I want to explore his body, fifteen minutes of kissing is a great way to start the day. “Deal.”
“No other requests?”
“No. Though if I say no or to stop doing something, I mean it.” I wouldn’t mind the kissing coming first or lasting longer, but I’m also eager to learn how he uses his hands.
“Got it.” He sits back, smile twisting to one side. Leaning over, he turns on the bedside lamp and angles it so that most of my body lies within the warm aura of light. Then, he shuffles back, pulling the covers the rest of the way off.
Only my silky nightie covers me, offering little warmth, but blood rushes through my veins.
He waits an interminable amount of time—at least a minute—devouring me with his eyes. This wasn’t the bargain.
“Hey—hands, then kissing. You didn’t ask for minutes of mapping with eyes.” I might pout, and most definitely arch my back slightly. My breasts sag to either side thanks to gravity, but they’re topped with furled nipples.
A satisfied growl vibrates in his chest, and somehow my breasts resonate, growing tauter, nipples peaking higher.
He sets his hands on my ankles, and that’s all I need to begin riding the edge of arousal. He’s unpredictable in the best way. Each touch, each stroke is deliberate but varied, always testing.One moment, he smooths the skin along my calf, but the next, he presses hard at the edge of my kneecap. Spots of pleasure-pain bloom, making my breath catch at the sudden shock and glory of a mini-release when he lets go.
His eyes light at that, but he doesn’t speak. His touch glides around my thighs in twisting curves as he presses, strokes, pushes, and pulls.
I’m panting as he reaches my torso. A thin sheen of sweat covers me, making the silk cling to my skin.
Rather than dipping under my hem, he slides over the silk and spreads his hands on the lines where legs meet hips. Leans in a little. Cool should rush in as he inches his over to my hips, but his touch creates so much heat, it lingers.
He spends several moments on my hips, cupping, pressing, and lifting. Then moves up my sides after a glance at the clock.
