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And Cam was in complete agreement with her need to dine on him, if the feel of his hands in her hair and the hard rise and fall of his chest was any indication. He was offering himself as her banquet, and was evidently quite pleased with each bite she took of his hard muscles.
Her hands pressed against his lower chest, her lips ran over each and every scar, and when she reached the most wicked of those thick, silvery lines, she had to taste him.
Her tongue peeked from her lips and she licked him. And she couldn’t stop licking him. The taste of his flesh against her tongue was even richer, hotter than it had been against her lips.
His fingers tightened in her hair. A burning pleasure to add to the burning pleasure of his taste. His hard body flexed, one hand left her hair to lift her closer, the other forced her head back, and his lips swallowed her protesting moan, until the taste of his kiss sank into her senses. The feel of it washed through her mind. His lips were like rough velvet, heated and exciting. They rasped over hers, caressed and sent shards of hunger spiking inside her.
When she thought she could stand the gentle rubbing of his lips against hers no longer, that she would die from the need for more, deeper and harder, he gave it to her.
His hand clasped the back of her head as he pulled her to his lap, lifted her into his embrace, and devoured her. With lips, teeth, and tongue, he nipped, licked, then slanted his lips over hers and buried his kiss into her.
Sensations—pleasure, hunger, and need—whipped through her system, attacked nerve endings, drawing them too close to the skin, making them too sensitive. She could feel every breath of air against her flesh, every touch of his hands, every separate sensation of his kiss. His tongue stroking her, his lips moving over hers, his groan meeting the mewling whispe
r of desire that fell from her lips.
Her hands were in his hair, fisted in it, holding him to her. If she could just keep his lips on hers, hold back reality for just a little longer, then she could find a way to be strong again.
Because she was definitely weak right now. Lost in his touch, melting against his chest and arching closer to him. Nothing mattered but this. His kiss feeding the hunger inside her.
“God! Jaci!” He moved his lips from hers.
She was outraged that he had stopped. Desperate, blinding need filled her, overwhelmed her.
“Don’t stop. ” She fisted her hands harder in his hair, dragging his lips back to hers. “Just for a few minutes. Let me feel you for just a few more minutes. ”
He muttered a male groan and he was kissing her again. Blissful kisses. Kisses that let her sink into that world of pleasure once again—a world where Cam’s strong arms tightened around her, lifted her—where security enfolded her.
She was only distantly aware of her back meeting the couch and Cam looming over her. He was surrounding her. His powerful arms were sheltering her, his kisses dragging her past fear and distrust, and filling her with his hunger, his need.
She let her hands slide from his hair to his shoulders, pushing frantically at the shirt in her quest to touch his flesh.
His knee slid between her thighs, pressed into the sensitive flesh of her silk-covered pussy, and sent talons of desire digging into her womb.
“Slow down, Jaci. ” He forced his lips away from hers once more, trailed them over her jaw, and ignored her cry of loss. “Easy. Let me touch you, sweetheart. ”
Jaci arched toward his lips, her head turning as they slid to her neck, her hips lifting against the pressure of his thigh, as his teeth scraped down her neck.
“I love your taste,” he groaned as he pulled at her shirt, baring the upper orbs of her breasts for his lips.
He feasted on the rapidly rising and falling mounds, his lips and tongue playing against them as she tried to get closer, tried to force his head lower.
“Sweet Jaci. ”
She didn’t know where Chase was. She thought she felt him at the end of the couch behind her head, but she couldn’t drag her senses away from Cam long enough to be certain.
Buttons released from the blouse as he pulled at the edges, popping them loose, and she didn’t give a damn. He could shred the blouse if he wanted to.
He bared her bra, delicate creamy lace, to his gaze, and within seconds released the front clasp that held it secure, then lowered his head.
“Cam!” she cried out.
His lips covered the hard, sensitive peak of her nipple and drew it into his mouth. There, he sucked and laved the peak, his tongue flicked over it, his teeth rasped against it.
Liquid pleasure burned beneath her flesh, as her head thrashed against the cushions of the couch. She needed more of him. More of his touch.
“I can’t breathe,” she panted, yet she arched closer.
“Me neither. ” He groaned, moving to the other peak. “I don’t give a damn. ”
