Page 35 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

Her fingers found bare skin beneath his shirt, and every rational thought burned to ash.

He rolled her beneath him in one swift move, bracing himself on his forearms to keep from crushing her. She arched up immediately, her hips pressing into his, and the contact—her softness against the hard length of him—tore a groan from his throat.

"Tell me to stop." His voice came out wrecked, barely recognisable. "Tell me now, and I will."

"No." Her hands slid up his back, nails dragging across the scars there, and he shuddered. A full body tremor that started at his spine and spread outward. "Don't you dare stop."

He kissed her again. Her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot beneath her ear that made her whimper. Each sound she made wound him tighter, coiled the heat in his belly into something almost unbearable. He was so hard it hurt, the fabric of his trousers an agony against sensitised flesh, and she hadn't even touched him properly yet.

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if she did.

Her head fell back against the pillow, baring her throat, and he dragged his lips down the column of it. Tasting her pulse. Feeling it hammer against his tongue. His hips moved of their own accord, grinding against her, and the friction sent sparks shooting up his spine.

"So long," she breathed. "It's been so long since I wanted…"

Wanted. The word hit him somewhere deep. She wanted him.

He felt the thing he'd kept locked away for years crack open

He found the ties of her nightgown and pulled. The fabric parted, falling away from her shoulders, and the sight of her—bare skin, the shadow of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts—made his pulse race.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against the slope of her breast.

The word felt inadequate. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. She was real. Bare. Trusting him with something precious.

He kissed his way down her sternum, between her breasts, and she made a sound that was half moan and half breath. His cock throbbed in response, demanding attention he refused to give it. Not yet. Not until she'd had what she needed.

"More," she managed. "Matthew, please…"

He dragged the nightgown lower, baring her fully to the dim ember light. The sight of her sucked the air from his lungs. Soft curves and sharp angles. Old scars silver in the low light, marks of a life harder than she'd let on. He wanted to kiss every one. Wanted to learn the story of each.

He did. One by one. She trembled beneath him, and he felt the tremors echo through his own body. A vibration, as if they were two instruments strung to the same key.

He found her breast, took the peak into his mouth, and she cried out. The sound went through him like lightning, his hips jerking involuntarily, grinding his aching cock against her thigh. He was leaking through his trousers already, could feel the damp spot spreading, and he didn't care. Couldn't care about anything except her taste, her sounds, the way her back arched to press herself closer.

"Please," she breathed. "I can't… I need…"

"I know." He kissed his way down her stomach, feeling her muscles jump beneath his lips. His own stomach was tight, coiled with want so intense it bordered on pain. "I know what you need."

He pushed the nightgown past her hips, down her legs, off entirely. She lay bare beneath him, nothing hidden, her thighs falling open in invitation.

The scent of her arousal hit him, and he nearly came in his trousers.

Control, he told himself. Keep control.

He couldn't. Not really. Not with her spread out beneath him like an offering, her eyes dark with want, her lips forming his name like a prayer.

"Matthew." Her voice wavered. Vulnerable in a way she never allowed herself to be. "Please."

He gripped her thighs firmly, opening them wider. He then lowered his head and tasted her.

The first touch of his tongue to her flesh tore a cry from her throat. Her thighs clamped around his head, then relaxed, falling open wider as he licked into her. She was hot and slick and the taste of her—salt and musk with sweetness beneath—flooded his senses until he couldn't think of anything else.

His hips moved against the mattress, seeking friction. Every stroke of his tongue sent an answering pulse of need through his own body. He was servicing her, but he was the one coming undone.

"Oh God…" Her hips rolled against his mouth, chasing more pressure, more friction. "Oh God, Matthew…"

He pinned her hips with one arm and worked her with his tongue. Long, slow strokes that made her shake. Quick flicks against the bundle of nerves at her apex that made her sob. Each sound she made wound him tighter, drove him closer to an edge he was desperately trying not to fall over.