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“Don’t.” She laid her fingers against his lips as he started to speak. “No promises, John. I don’t want any. All I want is the truth. I don’t want to ever believe in something I can’t have again.”
He moved her fingers from his lips, gripped the back of her head, and pulled her to him as he took in a kiss as gentle as the soft fall of snow outside the shelter that surrounded them.
It was like being surrounded by a dreamscape. A moment out of time that existed for them alone. Here, no one could touch them, nothing could threaten them. Right here, they were simply a man and a woman, aching, needing. There was no past, no future, only the present.
“You deserve better,” he whispered as he brushed his lips over hers, then sipped at them delicately.
“I deserve what I want.” She sighed, a hint of desperation filling her voice and cutting at his soul. “I want you, John. Here. Now.”
With the firelight flickering over her, he could imagine her naked, stretched across the lush cushions of the bench, her naked body warm and inviting. The image was so strong his cock jerked in his pants, becoming so hard, so tight, it was agony.
Gripping her back he turned until she was lying back against the cushion. He lifted one leg, unlaced her boot, and removed it before taking off its mate.
Her feet were slender and delicate, the nails painted a rich, lush berry red to match her fingernails.
Lifting one, he kissed the tips of her toes, watched her eyes flare, then moved to the arch. Her feet were incredibly sensitive. He remembered that from the night they had spent in Australia. How her foot flexed, as it did now, and a low moan whispered from her lips.
That moan struck his senses like a match to gasoline, flaming through his body and erupting like a starburst in his balls. He was nearly coming in his jeans just from stroking her arch with his lips.
Lowering her leg, his fingers moved to the clasp of her jeans, released it, and slowly lowered the zipper. He wanted to undress her slowly, to bare each bit of flesh to his gaze like the most special present.
Leaving her jeans loosened but still in place, he moved to the sweater. Lifting her, he pulled her arms from the sleeves, left the cashmere beneath her, then pulled her shirt from her.
Her breasts were unbound, golden from the light tan she carried, her nipples hard and cherry red. John licked his lips with the need to taste her, to draw that delicate, tempting fruit into his mouth with greedy hunger.
As he drew back, he watched in amazement as her hands lifted. She cupped her breast, her fingers gripping the hard points of her nipples as her hips arched and her face flushed with arousal.
“You’re so damned beautiful,” he groaned as he practically tore the leather coat from his shoulders and tossed it aside.
He jerked at the buttons of his jeans, tearing the metal disks from their moorings before jerking his own shirt over his head without bothering to unbutton it.
He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as she moaned with lush hunger and caressed the tight buds of her breasts.
“Feel good?” he asked her roughly.
“Not as good as your hands.” She sighed in longing. “Do you like watching me?”
“God, I love watching you,” he groaned. “I could watch you for hours.”
A sensual smile twisted her lips as one hand lowered from her breast, her fingers trailed down her abdomen. John watched hungrily, with mounting excitement, as those delicate fingers pressed beneath the jean material, moving for the sweet, wet flesh beyond.
He gripped the waist of her jeans and pulled them over her hips. He nearly lost what was left of his mind as he watched her fingers circling the damp bud of her clit. The glistening little pearl peeked between the folds of her pussy, gleaming with arousal as she rubbed at it, stroked it.
He managed to get the denim off her legs, jerked a condom from his back pocket, thanking God that he’d pushed one in there earlier, just in case.
Oh yes, he remembered how sweet and hot Bailey could get. How many times in Australia had he missed out on that sweetness because he hadn’t been prepared?
Rising to his feet, he toed his boots from his feet and stripped his jeans, barely aware of the chill in the air as the heat from the fireplace licked over his flesh and the heat of lust licked inside him.
As he lowered himself to one knee between her spread thighs, his gaze was glued to the journey her fingers were making from the tight bud of her clit to the slick entrance beyond.
He could barely breathe for the need striking inside him. His muscles were clenched from the effort to hold on to his control as he watched, his fingers massaging the muscles of her thighs as he watched her fingertips sink inside the delicate opening.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice guttural.
Pulling her fingers back, her juices glistening on the tips, he watched as she lifted them and stroked her lips.
Lust tore through him like a punch to his gut as he watched her juices glisten on her lips a second before her tongue swiped over the lush curves.
