Page 61 of Chasing Clouds

He pushes my hair out of the way and warm lips find their way from my shoulder to my neck, over to the tie. My eyes briefly slip shut as his teeth grab a loose end and pull. Slowly, the strings unravel, my top gaping and then falling as he tugs free the knot on my back. The entire piece flutters to the floor, and he hums his approval against my temple.

Large hands wrap around my rib cage and slide up until he’s cupping my breasts. My head falls back against his shoulder and I moan as his mouth latches onto my neck, tasting, exploring, learning. I’d like to say I plan on spending just as much time on him, because I do want to know every inch of his body, but at the moment, I can’t. I’m spellbound by his touch.

While one hand continues to caress me on the top, the other slides down the front of me, moving from my neck, between my breasts, across my stomach, and under my bikini bottoms, putting him directly over my center. He can feel what he’s doing to me, and I want him to do more—so much more.

From behind, he closes the distance between us and his excitement presses into my lower back. I swivel my hips, rolling over him, and he groans, dipping his fingers inside.

“Camille, I want this so bad. I want you so bad. You have no idea . . . weeks,” he mumbles against my skin.

I turn my head to look at him; his lips are swollen and just inches away. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He hesitates just for a second, his nostrils flaring at my words, and then I’m spun around in his arms as his mouth slams down on mine. The height difference between us has him bending down and me arching my body up. His large hands cover my entire lower back as he pulls me into him. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve him, but I’d do it over and over again.

Desperate to feel his skin against mine, I grab at his shirt and start pulling. Tearing his lips away, he reaches behind his head and has the shirt up and over and on the floor in one swoop. Heat pours off his skin and soaks into mine like the sun’s rays. He smells like vacation, dreams, and forever all rolled into one.

Staring down at me, his eyes lock onto mine, and we’re both breathing hard. His cheeks are splotched red and his fingers wiggle with the desire to touch me. Never has it felt like this, and I wonder if it’s because of the man in front of me, or if it’s because of me. Maybe it’s both.

“You are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.” And I mean that, both inside and out.

He blinks, brushing those long eyelashes against his cheeks, and swallows.

Placing my hands on his hips, just where his low-slung swim trunks sit, I begin to slide them across and up his skin. There’s the soft tuft of hair under his belly button, each indentation of his stomach muscles that my fingers go up and over, and the size and strength of his pectoral muscles through his shoulders. His skin is smooth, perfectly olive, and rippling under my touch. Leaning forward, I place a single kiss on the center of his chest. His groan at the contact vibrates into my lips, and I blow on the wet stamp they left behind.

Not able to withhold any longer, he slides his hands up my back, hooks them under my armpits, and deadlifts me. I instantly wrap my legs around him and bring my mouth back to his.

Over and over his tongue makes love to mine. His head moves from one side to the other to get deeper, to get more. No one has ever kissed me as thoroughly as he does. It’s like he wants a taste of my soul, the very heart of me, and if he doesn’t know it already, it’s his for the taking.

“I can’t get close enough to you,” he mumbles against me with soft, full lips. “You taste so good, so perfect, so mine.” One hand squeezes my bottom. It’s large enough that it can splay almost across both cheeks to hold me up while his other arm wraps around me, hugging tightly.

Hearing I’m his has me smiling, and he takes advantage by biting my lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. I squeeze my legs around his waist, shifting my hips down, and roll across the tip of him.

With a sharp inhalation of air, we’re moving. He walks us to the bed and leans over until my back hits it. He uses one hand to hold up his weight, and the other he reaches behind to run up my thigh and to the side tie of my bikini. Emerald green irises focus on me as he slowly pulls the strings on the right and then repeats on the left. Dropping my legs, he pulls his hips back and pulls the material free. It also finds its way to the floor.

It’s the first time I’ve been completely naked in front of him, and there’s not one ounce of self-consciousness present anywhere.

Looking down, he runs one finger around my breasts, down my stomach, and then side to side between my hip bones.

“These tan lines are incredibly sexy. I like them . . . a lot.” His eyes bounce to mine then back down, his voice more hoarse than I’ve ever heard it. Responsively, I arch up under his touch.

“I bet you have a tan line too,” I taunt, and his lips curl up on one side into a smirk.

Standing between my legs, he inches back, and I prop up on my elbows to get a better look at him. He hesitates with the tie on his swim trunks, and I glance up at him. He’s watching me, and the emotions written across his face are real and open. His gaze is tender, the muscles in his jaw are only a little bit tense, and his nostrils flare just slightly when he breathes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“Nothing.”

“What are you thinking about?” I shift so I’m sitting up.

He shakes his head; he doesn’t want to tell me, and that’s fine. After all this time, I understand. This, what we’re doing—it’s a big deal. It changes us.

I swipe his hands away, and they fall to his sides as he stands there and lets me slip his trunks off.

I’m not sure anyone could ever be prepared for a naked Reid, and my heart rolls over in my chest as I take in every inch of him—and I do mean every inch. He’s beautiful, and my thighs tighten with excitement knowing what they’re about to receive.

“I was right.” I glance up at him through my eyelashes then drag one single finger from right to left over the glorious muscles that make a V. “Tan line.”

Not able to contain myself, I lean forward, lick him from root to tip, and then take him in my mouth. He moans and rocks up on his toes as his hand reaches out and his fingers tangle in the hair on the back of my head. A rhythm is set and I feel pride knowing I’m the one who’s making him shake—me. Even though I know why we waited so long, a tiny part of me is protesting. It feels like lost time, and that just confirms to me that my head and my heart are in this together.