Page 43 of Passion in Bloom

“Tell me,” I said between kisses. I cupped her face and couldn’t resist another long press against her parted lips. “Tell me what you want. Show me.”

With words or actions, I wanted her direction. She was skittish and conflicted, and I wouldn’t barge forward without knowing what she was after.

She hooked her fingers deeper into my waistband, urging me to walk with her. A grunt left my lips as I followed her, and she kissed me harder, stroking her tongue along mine in a sensual slide that I couldn’t get enough of. Once I realized that she was urging me to walk toward my cabin, I lowered slightly to put my hands on her ass.

I lifted, cupping those juicy globes, and she murmured an incoherent sound of need as she leaned into me. In a clumsy, stumbling hug, we moved as one. We weren’t in sync, but we managed to get there. I carried her steadily, not giving her a sign that I’d drop her or let go. She clung to me, cinching her legs around my waist tighter.

Liquid heat burned through me. My heart raced as I moved us toward my door, but when I paused to get my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door, I swore I’d keel over with the potent lust threatening to overwhelm me.

Fuck, she could kiss.

And damn, was it an addictive rush to hear her sexy-as-hell sounds of need and impatience.

Propping her up to the wall gave me the slight access to reach the doorknob and open it, but the second I pushed the panel open, this lazy makeout session ended.

Inside the privacy of my cabin as I carried her in and kicked the door shut, she showed me that she wanted more. That she needed it faster.

When she squirmed to get down, staring at me with a crazed gaze of pure lust, I panted and tried to catch my breath. Lowering her to her feet seemed counterintuitive to what we were doing. I didn’t want to give up a single inch of space between us, but she had other things on mind.

Like nudity.

She reared back from me only to get the space she needed to reach for the hem of her shirt. In one swift pull up, she bared herself. She showed me the taut, smooth expanse of her stomach, all that silky soft flesh I wanted to touch and taste. Higher yet, as she yanked her sweatshirt over her head, she gave me a full-frontal view of her tits. Exposed and unconstrained. No bra shielded those generous swells from my view.

She tossed her sweatshirt to the floor, but before it could’ve fallen completely at our feet, she took my hand and brought it to her breast. The hard point of her pebbled nipple made me groan, and as she brought her other hand to the back of my head, I didn’t need any guidance at all.

Pushing my head to her chest, she “told” me what she wanted.

My mouth on her tit, sucking on that peak of a nipple.

My fingers on her skin, stroking and teasing her to further arousal.

Then as she stepped into my space, breathing hard as I played with her nipples, I shivered under the slide of her arms over my shoulders and around my neck.

I hoisted her into my arms, raising her high enough that I could nuzzle those stiff nipples as I carried her into my room.

She wanted me.

Message received.

And no words were necessary when we spoke so well with our bodies.