Page 64 of Her Loving Hero

“I would want you to drop the blanket, and I would want to unbutton your blouse one slow button at a time, slowly exposing your skin to my gaze, so I could see every smooth inch. Do you know would I would do then, Emily?”

She shook her head. Her eyes wide on his.

“I would kiss every bit of bare flesh I saw. Does your bra hook in the front or the back?”

“Uhm,” she swallowed. “Front.”

“I would reach between your beautiful breasts, and I would-”

She pushed the blanket off her shoulders. Her lips trembled, but she said, “show me.”

He didn’t move.

She took his hands in hers and brought them to the buttons at the top of her sleeveless blouse. “Show me.”

“Only some intimate kisses, that’s all Sweetheart. We wouldn’t take off anything below your waist, okay?”

Her eyes flew up to meet his. “That’s all?”

He nodded, and she gave a tremulous smile. He still didn’t move his fingers. “Wyatt, I want you to unbutton my blouse. I even dreamed about it before you started painting your pictures in my head. Please?”

Time stood still. He undid the first delicate pearl button in her blue cotton top. Then the second. Then the third.

Her bra was plane white cotton. Their world was down to the bubble of this couch and their breathing, and the scent of vanilla wafting up from her heated skin. He saw the two freckles clustered together above her left breast and pressed a gentle kiss on top of them. He imagined they tasted like cinnamon to go with the vanilla fragrance.

She hissed his name as she clutched at his shoulders. She wasn’t pushing him away, she was pulling him closer. He laved the freckles and traced a circle-eight around them.

Long moments later he heard her. “There are more buttons.”

He smiled at her softly whispered words. There were more buttons. Four more.

She’d shimmied out of the blanket so that it had flowered around her hips on the couch, her blue blouse rested on top of the same white jeans he remembered from weeks before at the YMCA.

Emily’s hands reached up to the next button, but he softly brushed them away.

“Mine,” he reminded her. She relaxed back against the sofa and he continued baring her flesh to his gaze. As he saw the softly rounded flesh of her stomach, he stifled a groan. She was the stuff of his every fantasy.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” He dropped a kiss above her belly button and she heaved up. The air crackled between them. He was going to die if he didn’t see the color of her nipples.

Die.

Wyatt trailed his tongue from her navel to the clasp of her bra, she trembled, but her skin was heating beneath his caresses.

“Emily,” he admonished with a laugh as he found her hands trying to unclasp her bra.

“You were taking too long,” she complained.

Wyatt adored the joyful sound of laughter in her voice.

“You’re supposed to be closing your eyes and thinking of England or something, while I do my manly business,” he teased.

She giggled, and he unhooked her bra and brushed the cups aside not noticing anything except how her eyes darkened. He kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips.

Wyatt felt her trembling fingers dig against his scalp, as she demanded a deeper kiss that he was happy to provide. But this time he didn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure that was Emily’s kiss, instead he waited and watched for her body’s signals.

Her choppy breath even out and she relaxed back against the couch, pulling him down against her, thrusting her bare breasts against his chest. He still made no move to touch them, instead he poured all of his feelings into his kiss, keeping his hands on either side of her head on the couch. He didn’t care if this was all there was tonight, or ever, he would die a happy man.