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For her.
Because he wanted her.
And she wanted him.
For once she wasn’t going to deny herself a guilty pleasure, wasn’t going to deny herself what she’d likely spend every day of the rest of her life regretting.
She’d regret not making love to Vale more. Lots more.
She kissed his throat, tugging on his bow-tie to loosen the material so she’d have better access to his body. She kissed the open V of his tanned chest when he tossed the tie to the floor, undoing the top couple of buttons. She continued to kiss him while her fingers worked the remainder of his buttons loose and pushed his shirt open, exposing the ripped planes of his abdomen.
“You have a beautiful body,” she praised. A gorgeous body that looked more like it belonged on a pin-up poster than a physician.
“Isn’t that my line?” A half laugh, half groan sounded from deep in his chest, changing to a full-blown moan when she bent and kissed his flat belly.
“Faith,” he growled from beneath clenched teeth, “you’d better know what you’re doing because my willpower is almost gone. Has been almost gone from the moment I spotted you at the wedding. I wanted to ditch the ceremony and carry you up here, spend the night making love to you.”
He’d thought all that when he’d looked at her? When he’d told her she was beautiful?
She rubbed her cheek across the sculpted planes of his lower abdomen, loving his indrawn breath, how he pulled her to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Much more of that and I’m going to push you back against my bed and make you mine,” he breathed against her mouth. His fingers bit into her bottom, grinding her against him. His gaze held hers, branding her with his hot desire. “All mine. Be sure this is what you want or stop me now because I want you.”
Did he intend his words to deter her? Because if he was almost gone, she was all the way. Gone out of her mind with need and longing and the desire to feel wanted, loved, to be enough for someone. To be Vale’s whole world, even if for just a few moments in time.
Rather than heed caution, she slid her hands beneath the open flaps of his shirt and pushed the material off his shoulders, letting her fingers trace over the taut muscles. “I don’t want your reason, Vale. I want you to make love to me.”
“Faith.” His eyes deep blue seas, he shrugged out of his shirt and claimed her lips again. He feasted on her mouth, drawing out every morsel of pleasure within her, making her tingle from head to toe in sheer awareness of her very being.
She wound her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the short hair at his nape, held him to her.
Not that she needed to hang on to him.
Vale wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted, needed, as much as she did. His fingers had worked up her skirt, bunching the clingy material at her waist, revealing the garter and thigh-highs she’d bought to go beneath her dress.
“Faith,” he hissed against her mouth, leaning from her long enough to take in her new sexy undergarments. “You’re killing me.”
She might have felt embarrassed except for the raw desire shining in his eyes. No way could she want to do anything except stand in the glow of his gaze when he looked at her as if he’d just awakened on Christmas morning and found exactly what he wanted beneath his tree. Her.
Thank God she’d listened to the saleslady and bought new underwear to go with her weekend wardrobe. The scraps of silk and lace had been worth every high-priced penny.
“Faith,” he repeated, tugging her back to him, his groin thrusting hard against her belly, his hands everywhere on her body. “I want you so much.”
She’d have told him to take her, but he was kissing her again, so she told him with her mouth, her hands, her body, with every fiber of her being.
She lowered his zipper, sliding his pants down his thighs and marveling at his body, at his reaction to her every touch, marveling at her boldness with his body.
She freed him, encircling him with her hands
, stroking over the silky smooth skin. He was big, hard, jutting out proudly toward her, magnificently male, but she wouldn’t have expected anything less. Not from Vale.
When his fingers pushed aside her lacy panties, rubbed across where her every single nerve ending culminated into one tiny nub, she cried out his name.
“You like that?” he asked, although surely he knew the answer as her body moved in rhythm to his touch, moved as if she were a puppet he controlled.
“Please,” she whimpered.
Please don’t stop.
