Page 94 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“I’m feasting my eyes on your breasts.” She adored the laughter in his voice. Adored him. A dangerous emotion for a Warren, but she didn’t care. She giggled and wriggled, and he tossed the inconvenient garment over her head. Then he just stood there, gazing at her.

Heat swarmed up her, down her, from top to bottom, to the tips of her fingers and toes.

His mouth tilted into a grin. He patted her on the derriere and pushed her gently back to the bed.

And promptly began to do precisely what he’d suggested earlier. Touches, kisses, licks, a teasing suckle here, and tiny bite there. Then he moved lower.

“Oh, my God,” she cried through a throb of pleasure, “surely you won’t lick me down there!”

He raised his head. “You had no idea what those vulgar songs meant, did you?”

“I wondered, but I simply couldn’t believe much of it. And I didn’t really want to know.”

“Well, now you do.”

She laughed, and then moaned, and later, through a haze of exhausted delight, she asked, “What about your ten minutes? Or two?”

In an instant he was on her, and then inside her. He smiled and kissed her hard. “Daisy, I love you so much.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, and she wrapped her legs around him, and her arms as well, and throbbed to his every movement. She had never imagined, couldn’t have imagined, that joining so intimately would be so perfect and so right.

A while later, more than two minutes, but most likely not ten, she said, “I love you, too.”