He trailed a finger slowly down her throat, not stopping until he reached the tip of the valley where the upper swells of her breasts met. “Seduction should be an ongoing thing, always there, even when you think it’s not.”
“Do you seduce every woman in your path, then?”
“Only the interesting ones.”
As though taken aback, she jerked her head slightly, her eyes widening. “You find me interesting?”
“Why would I not? You’re bold, daring...” He eased the blanket down until one breast was exposed and circled his tongue around her areola. “...and incredibly delicious.”
A tiny laugh escaped her as her fingers plowed into his hair and held him where he was. He took that as a sign to nibble and suck. Her satisfied sigh was soon echoing around him, and he decided another feasting was in order.
She’d thought they were done. She hadn’t expected more. Hadn’t expected him to drag the blanket off her with an almost feral growl of impatience as if he could hardly wait to have her bared before him again. He knew what she looked like now. Shouldn’t he be bored with the sight of her?
Yet it seemed he wanted her with a near madness.
She certainly wasn’t bored with the sight of his magnificent chest or broad shoulders. Or the way his muscles bunched and flexed as he moved over her, kissing, nipping, licking... her breasts, her throat, her shoulders.
Up he went and then down. Over her ribs and past her stomach. He gave attention to her hips, the inside of her thighs. He cupped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her to his mouth, like she was a goblet of wine—or absinthe—to be savored.
This time, she knew what to expect and released her entire being into his keeping.
How could it be like this again? This madness. This hunger.
She was writhing against him, pressing her hands over every inch of him she could reach, relishing the moans of enjoyment he made, reaffirming this act was not only for her, but for him. He drew almost as much pleasure from it as she did.
Even so, it had to be all lust. Need, desire, want.
But he found her interesting, bold, and daring. She’d never been made to feel any of those things. Was it all just words he uttered for seduction? But he’d done them so earnestly, his eyes clear, meeting hers with honesty.
Perhaps that was the reason that, although she knew she should be exhibiting a measure of modesty and self-consciousness, she wasn’t. That she spread her legs farther apart and urged him on. That she felt primal and animalistic. That her cries and keens heightened the sensations.
And why she was suddenly comfortable issuing orders.There. Softer. Harder. More pressure. That. Do that again.
When the cataclysm came, she bolted upright and curled around him as best she could, holding him near as pleasure surged through her. Then she dropped back, a lethargic, boneless heap.
He moved up and flicked his thumb over her turgid, sensitive nipple, and she almost cried out from the sensation. “You’re so responsive.”
“I’m beginning to fear I’m a harlot,” she confessed.
His grin was filled with pleasure and a touch of wickedness. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it. I find that incredibly...”
His voice trailed off, and she waited for him to find whatever word he was searching for. Finally, she asked, “Incredibly?”
“Alluring. You’re hard to resist. I can’t understand how so many men have managed to do it. Resist you, I mean.”
He was being kind. She was certain of it. Because in her experience, men had no trouble resisting her. She’d never had to fend off any untoward advances. She’d never had a fellow gaze upon her longingly. She had once done so, gazed at a man longingly, until her mother had chastised her for wearing her heart on her sleeve. No more than fourteen or fifteen years of age, only on the cusp of being interested in boys, she’d begun to realize she probably looked the fool and had shuttered her heart since it seemed she hadn’t the means to shutter her gaze, so it didn’t reveal what she was thinking. As a result, she suspected her demeanor could sometimes be described as frigid.
But as she’d learned tonight, a man did have the means to thaw her. If he was willing to go to the effort.
Even if that effort was no more than simply lying there, facing her, watching one solitary finger trailing over her side, her hip, and anywhere else it happened to wander. “I should probably get back to the hotel now.”
“One more kiss?”
As long as it wasn’t a farewell one, she wanted to tell him. But of course, it would be. Eventually. Probably tonight. Because he’d demonstrated what transpired beyond a kiss.
She must have given some indication of agreement because his mouth was suddenly blanketing hers, devouring, one hand gliding slowly down her back,pressing her against his chest, abdomen, hips. One of his thighs slipped between hers and pushed up against her mound, and she very nearly came undone. How could she be so ready again to be sated?
She wound her arms around him, scraping her fingers over his shoulders and down either side of his spine. He groaned low, increasing the pressure at her apex and her back until she thought she might melt into him. Torrid. Sweltering. They generated heat that threatened to ignite them.
