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Emerging from a fog of desire long enough to translate his raspy whisper, she rubbed her lips against his, smiling. “Yes.”
He mumbled something that might have been a prayer, then dived into another deep kiss that reignited the passion that had been put on pause. Together they got her out of her leggings and him out of his shirt. She unbuckled his belt; he undid the buttons of his fly. Then he lifted her and carried her over to the bed.
He set her on top of the covers. She lay back and scooted up toward the headboard. He pulled his belt from the loops and dropped it to the floor. He tugged off his boots. As the second one landed with a soft thud onto the floor, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her underwear.
“No. Me.”
He got onto the bed, standing on his knees between her legs. Every time she’d seen him, his physique had caused lazy currents of sexual awareness down low and deep inside her, but seeing Ledge shirtless caused a tidal wave.
He had a warrior’s body. On the underside of his left biceps was a tattoo. His abs were a firm, solid six-pack. Just the right amount of hair fanned over his pecs. His yummy trail begged to be followed, because inside the jeans, now open and riding low, there was nothing except Ledge.
Planting his hands on either side of her, he lowered himself as though doing a pushup, dipped his head to her breasts, and again applied his mouth. He left her nipples beaded and flushed, the slopes of her breasts rising and falling with unsteady breaths.
He began working his way down the center of her body. He paved a damp trail of kisses in the hollow between her rib cage and around her navel, down to where his lips encountered stretchy lace.
But not for long. He finessed away that filmy barrier and sent it sailing over the side of the bed to the floor. His breath soughed over her as he whispered, “Blond everywhere,” and planted the sweetest kiss there.
His thumbs scaled down the twin channels at the tops of her thighs to where they met. He uncovered that softest, most sensitive spot and stroked it with the tip of his tongue. Exhaling his name, she dug her fingers into his hair.
Then for the next while, he alternately tormented and gifted her. He was maddening in the way he teased, intuitive and deft in the way he responded to her slightest movement, pleading whimper, pleasured sigh.
Without resistance or hesitation, she followed the guidance of his hands to make readjustments in their position. He turned her over to kiss the small of her back, the dimples on either side, then lower where he took a love bite that he soothed with kisses.
As he turned her onto her back again, he paused to press wet kisses on the insides of her thighs. Then, sliding his hands under her, he scooped her up to his mouth and played over her with his lips and tongue until she came, ecstatically and without inhibition, while he stayed, lightly rubbing his lips against her, speaking in a low rumble words she didn’t catch, but didn’t need to in order to gather their meaning.
As she recovered, he retraced the kissing trail, this time making his way up her body, until he was levered above her, gazing down at her face when she opened her eyes. She mimed a thank you.
While she had been floating down, he had removed his jeans. He nudged her abdomen with his penis and growled, “We’re not done yet.”
“Oh, good.”
He tried to smile, but it was strained, and his eyes were dark with intensity. “Take me. Guide me in.”
She reached between their bodies and wrapped her hand around him. Her eyes widened in appreciation of his ampleness, which made him groan around another half smile. It turned into a grimace of pleasure as she stroked her way up, back down, up again.
Then she caressed the tip. It was full and taut, and already slick. The slow revolutions her thumb made to spread the moisture caused him to hiss and squeeze his eyes shut. “Damn, Arden. Now.”
She did as asked and guided him. He pushed into her, but drew in a sharp breath over her tightness. “Jesus. Are you sure you—”
“Yes.” She clutched his butt and tilted her hips up.
A profanity escaped on an expulsion of breath as he began to press and retreat in increments that stole he
r breath and accelerated his. When he was fully in, he paused as though to savor being imbedded in her, then the mating impulse overcame him.
He angled himself up so that every stroke was perfectly placed and brought her closer to another climax. When it washed over her, she hugged him tightly to her, chanting his name.
He buried his face in her neck, grinding against her and maintaining that sublime friction until it became too much for him, too.
Arden was left breathless, boneless. In the aftermath, she surrendered to a delicious lethargy and settled deeper into the bed, loving the feel of him, his weight, his body heat, securing her there.
Eventually, he got up and went into the master bathroom. He washed himself and then brought a wet washcloth back to the bed. He bathed her stomach with it. “I should have gotten a condom.”
“I wouldn’t have welcomed the timeout.”
“Me neither. That’s why I didn’t.”
“I wasn’t sure if that final growl was from ecstasy or frustration.”
