I squirm against his body, gently grinding my crotch against his. He is hard. Unbelievably so.
‘I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you,’ he murmurs, kissing me again.
‘Doing what?’ I ask, as if I didn’t know.
‘That thing. With your hips.’
‘Oh. This?’
When I do it again, his eyelids flutter reflexively closed and he exhales.
‘That it is very. . .distracting,’he whispers. I can’t wipe the smile off my face. ‘I amendlesslydistracted by you.’
‘Endlessly?’ I say, in a teasing tone.
There is a dark look in his eyes as he nods.
I reach up and touch his lips with my fingertips, gently tracing the outline of them. ‘And during those times when you are distracted . . . what are you thinking about,exactly?’
He kisses my finger so quickly it’s almost a bite. When I pull it away, it’s still warm and wet from his tongue. ‘I’m not sure you’d want to know.’
‘Oh, I would. I wouldreallywant to know.’
He shakes his head.
‘Comeon. Did you have a dirty dream about me?’ I tease, unable to suppress my smile.
‘There was nothing dirty about this. It was beautiful. There were fucking songbirds flying around my head.’
I chuckle. ‘Now Ihaveto know . . .’
He sighs. ‘Well . . . amongmanyother things, I have been thinking a great deal lately about what it would be like to . . .’
‘Go on.’
The light in his eyes seems to blaze. ‘To go down on you.’
My whole body floods with liquid heat.
I look at him for several long seconds. Then, I gently push him away, one hand on his chest, just far enough to give myself space.
I begin to lift up my skirt, inch by tantalising inch. He watches, enraptured, his chest inflated and immobile as he holds his breath. When the hem is skimming the top of my thighs, I scoot up my hips slightly and slide the fingers of both hands under the cool, white cotton of my pants.
He watches every uninhibited movement. Every carefree step. I gently wriggle them past my thighs, over my knees, down to my ankles. Then I kick them away with one foot. I slowly open my legs. He finally releases his breath.
I feel as if I have been reinvented. As a vamp, a vixen, a seductress, a goddess. He slides his hot, dry hands up my thighs.
Then he dips his head.
The kisses start inside my knee, a small corner of my body where I genuinely don’t recall ever being touched before. He is unhurried, refusing to be rushed. He moves like someone who is exactly where he wants to be and fully intends to savour every second. By the time he is gently biting the soft flesh on my inner thigh, my need for him is agonising.
His lips find the warm tenderness between my legs. Whatever it is that he next does with his mouth feels like some kind of sorcery. I lean on my elbows and tip back my head, as a mindless hedonistic bliss begins to build inside me. My to-do lists nolonger exist. My schedules are irrelevant. My responsibilities are temporarily suspended.
In the space in my head, there is no room for laundry or work, orthinkingof any kind. All there is room for isfeeling.
More and more and more feeling . . .
I feel Zach freeze before I can work out why.
