Page 65 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

“I never imagined you would taste this sweet,” he murmured as his hot mouth moved to press kisses along my jaw and down the column of my neck.

I didn’t know Jack particularly well, but I knew that he wasn’t impulsive. He was thoughtful and methodical. He did nothing without thinking it through from every angle, and that took time.

A whimper escaped me as he reached the curve of my shoulder, pulling aside the neck of my sweater to give him more access to skin.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What did you imagine?”

“Lots of things,” he said between kisses. “I have a vivid imagination and too much time to think.”

My knees felt weak. How much time had he spent thinking about us like this? Weeks? Months? Perhaps longer? No, that was crazy.

“What kinds of things?” My voice was thin and breathy.

“I can show you.” It was a tease and an offer.

“Back in the fieldhouse you said something about an orgasm?” I teased back.

Teeth grazed the tendon in my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine. “I did,” he confirmed, his voice low and husky.

My arms tightened around his neck, and it was all I could do to stay on my feet.

“Please,” I begged.

The word triggered something in him, because he immediately started to move, walking me slowly back toward the bedroom, only removing his mouth from my skin when I peeled off my sweater for the second time tonight.

By the time the back of my knees hit the bed, I was down to my bra and panties—a pretty lace set that gave me enough cleavage to swallow a phone—and he was shirtless with his jeans hanging unbuttoned and loose on his hips. I sat back on the bed while he stood before me, and I tugged the pants down his thighs and calves until he could step out and kick them away.

The only light in the room came from the window, so Jack was backlit with a silver glow in the shadowed room. He looked even better than I remembered.

“Wow,” I murmured.

He chuckled, low and rumbling.

I scooted into the middle of the bed and lay back on the pillows. He followed, crawling up the length of my body, broad shoulders and lean torso looming over me. He smelled like lemon and honey and something musky and male—maybe his own pheromones.

He paused, hands grasping either side of my ribs, thumbs gently stroking the sides of my breasts, and surveyed me laid out before him.

“You look like a dream,” he said.

I felt like a dream as his gaze raked over my body, somehow just as intimate as if it had been his hands—or mouth—exploring every inch of me. My skin tingled where his eyes trailed, and desire coiled low in my core. If he reached into my panties, he would find me slick, all but dripping, with arousal.

“You do, too. Even better than that first day I saw you.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” He lowered his mouth to mine, silencing me with a searing kiss. I responded with enthusiasm, cupping his jaw in my hands, then sliding my fingers up into his soft hair.

His hand skated over my chest, palming my breast and massaging it through my bra before slowly pulling down the cup. I gasped at the jolt of pleasure that shot through my body when he rolled my nipple between his finger and thumb.

“I want to learn every sound you make,” he breathed into my skin as he moved down my chest, kissing and licking. He slid his other hand under me, unclasping my bra, and continued his assault on my breasts unobstructed. His hot mouth felt like heaven on my sensitive flesh.

I arched under him, offering more of myself, and keened in pleasure. It had been almost a year since a man last touched me like this. I pushed that underwhelming memory out of my mind as quickly as it had slipped in. I wanted to focus on Jack and how good he was making me feel. We only had one night. I needed to maximize the opportunity he was giving me.

Being with him like this was a bad idea. I would have to see him tomorrow and the next day and the next. But as he sucked the hard bud of my nipple into his mouth, I decided that was a problem for tomorrow.

He slid a broad hand down the outside of my thigh, hooking under my knee and spreading me wide to make more space for himself between my legs. I mirrored the movement with my other leg. He paused again with his hand pressing into my inner thigh just above my knee. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.”

“You’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like something?”