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His fingers slipped over her shoulder and ran down the front of her shirt. He stopped below her collarbone. Tracing gentle circles over her skin, his touch gliding back and forth under her bra strap, he said, “I’d start here and work my way lower.”
She arched her back, offering access and encouragement. “Then?”
“My hands would slip under your bra and cup your breasts.”
“Hmm,” she moaned. But his actions didn’t mimic his words. He continued to massage her pectoral muscles.
“And then I’d face this inner struggle,” he continued. “Do I lift your breasts and press them together or tease your nipples first? If I run the pad of my thumb over your nipples, I could gauge how you like to be touched and learn if your breasts are sensitive. And I should probably start there. Because if I draw your tits together first, well hell, I’d be tempted to dip my tongue between them and lick my way to your nipples.”
His words painted an X-rated picture in her mind of a scene that belonged inside the cottage—bedroom, love seat, or sleeping loft, it didn’t matter as long as they slipped behind a closed door. Just in case someone walked down the beach. She had a list of her own unexplored fantasies, but they didn’t involving attracting outside attention.
“I can tell you’ve lost sleep over this debate,” she said.
“Caroline, you don’t want to know how much I’ve fantasized about your cleavage.” He added a serving of sincerity to his tone as his finger dipped lower, grazing the top edge of her breasts.
“Tell me.”
“But then you’ll think I’m only concerned with your breasts. And that’s just not true.”
“Right now, I’m just interested in how my breasts play into your wildest daydreams.” She ground out the words as she arched further. She cocked her head to the right and rested it on his knee. “Please, Josh.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Are you sure about that? Because once I finish licking a path between your tits, I’d kiss my way over that taut little belly down to your panties. And this time there’s no debate. I’d touch you first, testing to see if you’re wet, before running my tongue over you until you came.”
She drew a sharp inhale as her body responded to his words. See if she was wet? If he kept talking, she’d be tempted to slip her own hand into her underwear. It wouldn’t take much before her cries left anyone out for a sunset beach walk wondering if the cottage offered a different kind of view.
“All this time and I had no idea you had such a dirty mouth,” she said, her voice different, but not unfamiliar—at least not to her ears. But it had been a long time since she’d been this turned on.
“That’s that forty percent of pure sin.” His hands stilled on her shoulders. “Sorry—”
“I like it.”
And he wasn’t the only one with a sixty/forty split. Although right now, the balance was tipped in favor of her naughty side.
“But I think it’s your turn.” She lifted her head off his knee and pulled away from the hands that had begun kneading her shoulders again. She pushed off the porch floor and turned to face him. “Sit down, Josh.”
“You’re going to give me a massage?” he asked, raising one beautiful eyebrow.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” She waited for him to shift from the chair to the cushion on the floorboards. “You spend all day wielding a chainsaw and hauling big heavy logs out of the forest.”
He laughed as he settled on the pillow and stretched his long, jean-clad legs in front of him. “Here I’ve been baking for you, trying to win you over with sugar and whipped cream, and I could have taken you out to a job site and revved up my chainsaw.”
“Well, if you want to talk about fantasies . . .”
She let the words linger on the crisp night air. One glance at the ocean suggested the sun would disappear below the horizon any minute. Darkness would follow along with a reason to move inside.
She glanced down and tried to focus on the tan skin dipping below the neckline of his T-shirt. Under or over his shirt she wondered. Or . . .
“Would you mind slipping off your shirt?” she asked. “I don’t want to stretch out the neckline.”
He laughed again as he reached for the fabric at the base of his neck and drew the shirt over his head. “You know if I tried that line, it would sound dirty.”
She placed her hands on his naked shoulders. “I’m just getting started.”
A long time had passed since she’d looked at Josh and thought imposing. That first night, in the clearing, his broad shoulders and tall, muscular form had appeared threatening. But now the formidable expanse of pure muscle beneath her hands impressed without frightening her.
Probably because he’s sitting at my feet. And I’ve seen him perform a striptease.
Her fingers dug into the taut, hard plane of pure male perfection. The man beneath her touch moaned.
