Page 44 of The Mister I Married

She swallowed, trying not to stare at the sprinkling of dark hair dotting his chest. “No matter,” she muttered. “I’m warming up already.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat again. “Well, then. I am going to kiss you now if that is agreeable to you.”

Emmy rolled onto her side, keeping the sheet in place with clammy hands, and said, “It is.”

He edged closer to her until his knees brushed hers, bare skin against bare skin, and the contact made her start, the newness of it a shock to her already-taut nerves.

Alex propped himself up on one elbow, settling his other hand on her hip, firm and strangely comforting through the shield of bedding. It calmed her a bit that he seemed content to go slow and take his time, rather than leaping on top of her in his haste to see it done.

He bent his head, his gaze locked on hers until the first brush of his lips, warm and gentle, and a shiver of pleasure rolled through her body as her eyes fell closed.

She met his kiss eagerly, fitting her mouth to his as the scent of him, fresh and woodsy, engulfed her senses. He kissed her harder, his lips meeting hers with unhurried hunger, his tongue sweeping along her bottom lip. She returned the favor, tasting him, drinking him in like fine brandy.

Her hands were trapped between their bodies, her fingers clenched around the bedsheet, yearning to touch him but she wasn’t sure she should.

Alex eased his lips from hers and met her gaze, his breaths ragged and warm against her lips.

“May I touch you, Emmy?” he asked, his voice husky, his hazel eyes glowing in the candlelight.

“Where?” she whispered, her mind dazed and hazy.

“Anywhere.” His hand squeezed her hip. “Everywhere.”

Oh. She swallowed, her skin flushing hot, his words and the look in his eyes making her body ache with need. Oh, yes. She rather liked the sound of anywhere and everywhere.

“You may,” she said breathlessly, seconds away from begging for it.

His hand left her hip to cup her cheek, and he kissed her again, deeply, his fingers skimming her jaw before skating down her throat, his touch both tender and torturous. His tongue swept along hers, and she returned his kiss with relish, her tongue tangling with his as his hand slipped beneath the coverlet, curving around her shoulder and down her bare back, the caress sparking a trail of warm tingles. He palmed her bottom, squeezing and shaping, and he broke the kiss with a groan. “God, Emmy,” he murmured. “You feel amazing. Your body…your skin…”

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her throat, his hand caressing her thighs, her calves, her waist. He trailed his lips down her throat, gently easing her onto her back, and Emmy’s eyes fell closed as his teeth nipped her throat, his hands sliding the coverlet down to her waist, exposing her breasts.

He eased back, and she opened her eyes to look at him, her gaze riveting on the hard planes of his face, the need in his eyes so stark it made her body clench.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, his gaze sweeping over her, and Emmy flushed with pleasure. She’d always thought her breasts were too small for her otherwise full figure, but the way Alex was gazing at her now, it was clear he did not agree. His admiration was intoxicating.

She lay perfectly still, gazing up at his face as he gently cupped her breast, and her breath caught in her throat at the first brush of his palm. She arched into his touch, her lips parting on a groan as his thumb stroked her nipple, and then his mouth followed, his tongue circling, laving, until she was writhing beneath him. The ache between her legs deepened, pulsing hot, and the desire to touch him, to feel his body on hers, swept over her in waves.

“Alex?” she asked, her voice a croaking whisper.

His head came up, his eyes glittering. “Yes, Emmy?”

She licked her lips, her throat dry. “May I touch you, as well?”

The scorching look he gave was answer enough, but he nodded and said, “You may.”

Gingerly, Emmy brought her hands to his chest, smoothing her palms over his pectorals, her fingers grazing warm skin and soft, springy hair. Strong shoulders, firm biceps, sinewy forearms—she explored his body with unhurried curiosity, and no small amount of admiration.

“You’re so warm,” she murmured, trailing her fingers across his ribcage. “And well-formed, too.”

She swept her palms down his flat, firm stomach, wringing a groan from Alex’s throat, and Emmy stilled, uncertain, her gaze meeting his.

“Forgive me,” he said, his smile tight. “I’m doing my best, but I feel as if I am moments away from coming completely undone, and I want to make this good for you, Emmy. I want to please you.”

Warmth suffused her. “I have no complaints thus far, Alex.”

“It relieves me to hear you say that,” he replied. “Still, I must ask for your help.”

Her brows rose at the unexpected statement. “My help? With what?”