He gripped her wrist when her focus slid lower. Took her hand and tugged her glove off, finger by finger by finger. Then repeated the process with the other hand, letting the gloves tumble to the floor. “Are you looking for a way to bring a man to his knees, Tori darling? I’m fearful that with a little exploration, you’ll figure out exactly how to do it.”
In answer, she placed her mouth over his nipple and sucked, lightly, gently. He shook his head, implying absolutely nothing, unable to banter if she was going to do that.
She laughed and freed her hand from his grip, hesitated, then covered his hard length. “Ah,” she murmured as if something surprised her. He was beyond asking what.
With a muffled groan of surrender, he backed up until his hip met the wall. By that time, she had most of his trouser buttons undone, his drawers down enough to free his cock. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes, ceding any plan to manage the encounter.
She wanted to explore, he gathered, from the fingertip cautiously tracing his rigid length in a leisurely, wonderfully awkward circuit. Okay, he decided and blew out a breath. He could allow this for one minute. Maybe two, if he kept his eyes closed and avoided studying her luscious body concealed only beneath a thin chemise. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself by not making it to the finish line. Not with her.
The only woman who would ever matter.
Going up on her toes, she resumed the kiss, tentatively stroking her tongue against his in the same rhythm as her hand caressed him. Moaning against her lips, he revised his calculation because her technique, surprisingly suitable for a beginner, was bringing that shiver to the base of his spine that meant his body was on a countdown to release.
Moving in, slowing down, he tangled his hands in her hair and walked her back. The mattress hit her mid-thigh, and she sprawled across the bed, her curls an ebony spill across the pale sheets. She rose to her elbow and flipped the jumbled strands from her face. “You liked it?” she asked with a half-smile.
He tilted his head, considering. God, yes. But he wasn’t about to admit it.
“What’s that look about?” she murmured, her gaze running the length of him as it had earlier. Like she was sketching him, one languid stroke at a time, setting him aflame with her earnest regard.
He flicked open the last button and stepped out of his trousers, kicking them aside. His drawers soon followed. Her eyes were dazzled, vulnerable, captivated. “Skin to skin will change everything,” he whispered in French, knowing it was probably a more complicated statement than she could translate.
A realization only devastating experience would bring.
She pinched the material of her chemise between her fingers and let it flutter back to her breasts. “There’s still this.”
Leaning over her, he grasped the neck and ripped it down the middle, exposing her magnificent body to the meager light. Light as starved for her as he was. Crawling over her, he braced himself on his forearms, letting his weight settle atop her in slow, tantalizing degrees. Trying to conceal how entranced he was by everything about her. Her quiet beauty, the intelligence shimmering in her eyes, the courage, the keen interest.
The innocence he was set to take.
One more moment, he thought, before I give you my heart.
Skin to skin indeed changed everything.
“Now, there’s just us,” he whispered and let himself fall.
He moved over her in the darkness, shifting and settling between her legs as his lips captured hers.
His sleek body was as beautiful as his face, and she memorized, her exploration unskilled, ravenous, daring. A silky sprinkling of hair trailing to his waist, lean hips, muscular legs. The hard length of him digging wonderfully into her thigh.
She wanted to disappear into him and become one. The end goal, she understood and arched her hips against his in invitation.
More. Now.
Pressing her lips to his neck, she sucked on a patch of skin and verbalized the demand in a hoarse whisper. He responded with a low groan, a nip to her cheek, her jaw. Lowering his head, he circled her nipple with his tongue, then moved his lips fully around the sensitive nub and drew it between his teeth. Pleasure, pain. Pleasure. She came off the mattress with a husky cry she’d never heard herself utter, her hand tangling in his hair and bringing him closer.
“The lady likes,” he murmured, his breath washing over her, bringing another fissure of delight. Continuing his assault, he caught her other nipple between his thumb and finger. Her thoughts dissolved, leaving nothing but desperate need, yearning, sensation. Seeking to ease the fierce pulse that had settled between her thighs, she ground against the leg he’d so cleverly maneuvered into place between them.
It was enough, this movement combined with his taste, scent, touch to send a tiny, explosive ripple through her. Skin aflame, limbs tingling, logic evaporating until she was left a powerless, writhing muddle.
“That’s a start,” he whispered against her lips and trailed his hand down her body. She felt the moisture on her thighs and thought to warn him, embarrassed and unsure, when he recaptured her lips and slid a finger deep inside her. Then he pressed his thumb to the spot she’d come to find, through her exploration, held the most pleasure. Oh. She dragged her hands down his body, scraping her nails over his skin. The slopes and ridges of his back, the rise of his buttocks. He was glorious, and she was going to record every inch of him while she let him turn her inside-out.
An apt pupil, she caught the rhythm of his finger, two when he added another, realizing they were acting out what would happen later. Soon, if his rushed breaths, the sweat slicking his skin to hers, the trembling arm braced by her shoulder, meant anything. Her head fell back, her back arching as she gasped, overcome by sensation, unable to maintain the kiss. In reply, he circled her waist, pulling her up and into him, devouring her.
“Come for me,” he whispered roughly against her cheek, his damp hair clinging to her skin, his body shifting as he sought to move closer. “Next time, I’ll use my mouth…make you shatter in seconds.” He sighed, long and low. “For now, this will have to do. I’ll come in seconds if I go there.”
The thought of his lips pressed to her core, of his release, sent her over the edge.
She could only lie back and disintegrate, weakly registering every thoughtful, resolute caress. Fingers stroking, thumb circling, teeth marking her shoulder, the nape of her neck, his exhalations harsh against her flushed skin. The weight of his body forcing hers into the mattress, a delicious, unexpected benefit.
Bliss. Waves and waves of it, stealing the air from her lungs and thought from her mind. “I can’t,” she panted with a shaky effort to push him away. “Too much.”
She felt his lips curve against her cheek, his fractured breath whispering past her ear. He uncurled her hand from where she gripped the counterpane and drew it down between their bodies. “Feel what you do to me.”
He was hard, incredibly so, which had shocked her earlier. And smooth, sleek, just like he was. A drop of liquid rested on the tip, and she smoothed it over his skin. “Perfect,” he murmured and captured her lips. Wrapping his hand around hers, he moved into position at her entrance, gradually, letting her feel their joining, control the speed, the depth. “This is what we feel like.”
“Yes,” she whispered raggedly, lifting her hips as he edged inside.