My jaw falls on its own. My next inhale might as well reach all the way to my toes, and as I exhale, all of my muscles turn to pudding.
Seriously. I may never reconstitute. And I’m pretty okay with that.
Up until his hands tuck between my knees and grip the insides of my thighs.
The touch is a keystroke shortcut straight to my clitoris. Command C. I bleat like a lamb.
Jesus Christ, I can’t be the only one making barnyard noises. I reach down and grip his wrists and they ascend higher between my thighs and give them a tug.
“Come here,” I repeat, almost pleading this time.
Still grinning, and looking damn pleased with himself, Zach gives a slow, sinister shake of his head. “Not yet.” His thumbs glide over the fabric of my leggings. “May I take these off?”
I blink, lust-addled. If there’s an argument to make here, I can’t parse it out. “I—I mean… yeah,” I croak.
And if I thought he looked self-satisfied before? He’s the devil’s twin brother right now. Just what I get for falling for a redhead.
Damn.
But the Prince of Darkness has nothing on Zach when he snakes his hands under my hips, grips the band of my leggings from behind, and tugs. Even though he’s still kneeling between my legs, he manages to whisk them off me faster than I’ve ever been able to do myself.
I watch them sail over his shoulder and land in the tent’s corner with a softwhish.
When I look back at Zach, he’s gone statue-still, his gaze riveted between my legs.
And then I remember. “Oh, that,” I say innocently.
Zach visibly swallows. I knew the rose pink thong with the little embroidered tulips was the right choice for tonight, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate the undergarment this much.
And it’s my turn to grin with smug self-satisfaction.
Ooh, this is fun!
He blinks back up at me. “Y-You don’t wear panties like these.”
I narrow my gaze at him. He’s been in my pants once. And the lights were off. “How do you know that?”
He licks his lips, looking harassed. “We share a closet. And a washer and dryer… A-And, yeah, you usually have on PJ bottoms—” He grips the back of his neck with an agitated hand. Even in this light I can see he’s blushing, and it’s sweeter than the most decadent dessert. “But sometimes they're pretty short, a-and you bend over to fill Russell’s water dish.” He clamps his jaw shut at the memory, and the strain that’s written all over his face has my heart running over with love.
His eyes, practically bugging, snap to mine. “Don’t get me wrong. Iloveyour striped bikini briefs—” He says it with such ardor, delighted laughter bubbles out of me. “And the ones with the Corgis are probably my favorite.”
“Oh my God, you’ve seen those!” I groan.
It’s like flames lick his gaze. “Seen them. Loved them.” And then his voice drops wickedly low. “Imagined dragging them off you with my teeth…”
I suck in a startled breath. Ever since our first kiss, I’ve known that he’s a master of patience and restraint. I don’t think I realized what it cost him until right now.
And maybe it’s wrong of me to fast-track his deliberately slow ascent up my body, but dammit, this was supposed to be my woodland seduction. So in one swift and decisive move, I whip off my sweater.
As deliberately as I chose the thong, I also thoughtfully neglected a bra. So now I’m outstretched before him in nothing but a tiny triangle of Lycra.
“My God, woman,” he croaks, his grip tightening on my bare thighs. His pupils couldn’t be bigger if he’d dropped acid.
And then he’s stretched out on top of me, his clothed body above my bare one, deliciously rough and heavy. My sigh of pleasure pipes from me like steam from a kettle.
Wrapping arms and legs around him, I squeeze him tight and stamp kisses along his neck and under his jaw. His breath is ragged as he kisses me back, moving from my cheek, to my neck, to my collar bone.
When Zach takes my right breast into his mouth, my hips buck. A deep sound of pleasure rumbles through him, and I feel it everywhere.
