His eyes don’t leave mine as his fingertips trail downward, brushing the column of my flushed neck. My eyes drift shut, and I arch into him, silently begging. His hand moves lower, his touch like a light draft kissing the skin beneath my collarbone, skimming the swell of my breasts, ruffling the tie at the front of my dress.
He pulls at the knot, and my pulse quickens. The knot comes undone, and the material slackens, exposing my bra underneath. His pupils are dilated, his gaze locked on my breasts. I wait breathlessly as he sweeps my dress off my shoulders, the fabric pooling at my waist.
He swallows, his wild eyes roaming my body. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
I nod, impatient for his touch, and when it doesn’t come, I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, leaving myself exposed. “Touch me,” I repeat, lying back on the bed.
I’m about to die of shame when he moves over me, the painful longing in his eyes stealing the breath from my lungs. Holding his body above mine, he touches his hand to my jaw, assessing me, then he tilts my face up and captures my lips with his.
His kisses are no longer heated and desperate, but slow and deliberate, drawing out my pleasure with each careful stroke of his tongue. He kisses me until my breathing turns heavy, and I’m clutching at his sides, pulling him to me, desperate for the relief of his weight pressing down on me.
He finally relents, lowering his body to mine, and we both groan. We press into each other, and his lips explore my neck, trailing kisses down my skin until he reaches my chest.
“I’ve missed these,” he says in a playful lilt, giving my breasts the same careful attention he gave my lips. He licks and bites, taking my nipple between his teeth.
Within seconds I’m a writhing mess, a fierce ache between my thighs. I want his hands on me, winding me up like he did after the ball, but he’s content flirting with my chest.
“Liam,” I say, and it comes out like a plea.
“You have no idea how much I love hearing you say that,” he says, the two dimples in his cheeks fuel to the fire raging inside me. He returns his attention to my bare chest. “Now where were we, ladies?”
I cover my smile with the back of my hand, my laugh turning to a moan when he pinches one of my nipples andcircles his tongue over the other. “I know what you’re doing,” I say.
“What am I doing?” he asks in mock innocence.
“You’re—” I gasp as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “Stalling.”
“So impatient,” he mutters, shifting to lie beside me. “There’s a difference between stalling and taking my time, Ella.”
Then his lips are back on mine, our tongues caressing, his heavenly scent enveloping me. He presses a splayed hand to the skin below my breast and slides it down my ribs, gliding over the crest of my pelvis and lower, between my thighs. He strokes me through the thin material of my underwear with a feather-light touch, teasing me until I’m clutching the bedsheets and my body’s shuddering, the ache in my center now a throbbing heat.
I’ve gone this far with him before, but this time it’s different. The last time we were together was intense in its own way, but the way he’s kissing and touching me now is gentler. Slower. He’s taking his time with me, savoring every moment.
The corner of Parker’s—Liam’s—mouth kicks up into a mischievous smile. “I like these,” he says, fingering the lace of my underwear. He pulls them down, and I shift my hips to help him remove them, his upper body settling between my legs.
His hand trails up my inner thigh, brushing my bare flesh, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. I squirm, craving his touch and the pleasure it incites. His fingers move higher, my hips jerking at his teasing strokes, begging for that clever finger to press against my bare core.
Soft lips press against my thigh, right over my birthmark, and my breath catches. He draws the skin into his mouth, sucking and caressing with his tongue, leaving what I can imagine will be a large bruise.
“Liam,” I cry, lacing my fingers through his hair. I need more. “Please just have sex with me.”
He lets out a mocking laugh.
“Don’t—” My words hitch in my throat, replaced with a sharp inhale as he presses his mouth to my center, setting me on fire. His warm tongue works me in measured, sweeping strokes, and my head falls back onto the mattress, chest fluttering with each clipped, quickened breath.
I won’t last long, not when he changes his technique, alternating between sucking and running his tongue over me, swirling and pressing, drawing me to the edge.
I groan at the ceiling. He’s going to burn me alive. I can’t breathe, or think, or do anything other than hold the bedsheets in an iron grip and writhe with pleasure.
He clamps a hand down on my waist, holding me firm to the mattress, and I squirm under him, seeing stars when he slips a finger inside me.
Oh my—
“Liam,” I choke out in another breathy plea.
His tongue presses down harder, and he slips another finger in, filling me, curling to press against a hidden spot inside me that floods my body with heat and kicks my heart into a gallop.
The last time we were together, I was alarmed at the way he traced my body and anticipated my needs, but now I revel in it. I can’t stop the moans escaping my lips or the way my hips arch toward him as he brings me dangerously close tothe edge. Pulse pounding and breathing ragged, I lace my fingers through his hair, holding him to me as the tension threatens to overcome me.
