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His brows pinched, three vertical lines appearing above the bridge of his nose. She wanted to smooth them away. To make it all better.
To make him smile again.
Rolling onto the ball of her feet, she pressed her lips against his hard, rough jaw. She could hear his breath catch in his throat. His eyes closed as he inhaled sharply. She kissed him again, brushing her lips along his jaw to his throat, kissing the warm skin of his neck.
“It’s okay,” she whispered again. “You’re okay.”
He wrapped his hands around her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. She could see a pulse flickering in his neck.
She trailed her lips down his throat, to the curve of his shoulder. He pulled her against him, her breasts pressing to his hard chest, the thick ridge of him prominent against her abdomen. A warmth washed over her skin.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, as though ashamed of his need.
“Don’t be. Just let me touch you. Hold you.” She didn’t know what else to do. The need to comfort him mixed with a heady desire coursing through her veins, making her thigh muscles tense with every heartbeat. With her hands on his chest she traced the lines of his pectorals through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, brushing her fingers over his nipples, making him gasp.
The room was silent, save for his harsh breaths and the pulse of blood rushing through her ears. He held himself still, a willing participant to the comfort she was trying to give him. When she slid her hand down, beneath the hem of his t-shirt, and pressed her palms against his burning skin, he tipped his head back, his jaw tense, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Meghan… I…” he groaned. “Don’t stop…”
“I won’t,” she murmured, kissing his jaw again. Her hands traced a pattern against the ridges of his stomach, up his torso, her fingers spreading over his chest. “Let me make you feel better.”
He was as hard as iron. Long and thick against her. She lifted his t-shirt, and he held his arms up, only lowering them when she threw it to the floor. His beauty dazzled her. The warm tan of his skin, the tautness of his abs, the dark line of hair that ran from his navel to his waistband, inviting her in.
“Tell me what you need,” she said, pressing her lips against his chest. He smelled so damn good it sent her brain into a whirl.
“Kiss me.” His voice was low. Harsh. As if to underline it, he pulled one hand from her hip and pressed his fingertips to her chin, lifting her head until their gazes clashed. She could see the desire in his eyes, feel it against her body. This man was like a drug to her veins.
His lips were soft and heated. He brushed them against hers, making her toes clench. His fingers curled around her neck, angling her perfectly until he could deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth until she willingly welcomed him.
His kiss was achingly sweet. Full of so many emotions it made her chest hurt. He held her face with one hand, the other sliding up her back, sending tingles down her spine as he kept her steady against him. She could feel the balance of power flip between them, as he took charge, kissing and touching her until her body felt like it
was flying.
“Can we go to bed?” he asked, his voice heavy from their kiss.
She nodded, lacing her fingers through his, thanking god for the short distance between her kitchen and bedroom. Rich was right behind her, still holding her hand, using his other to pull the door closed. The sun was beginning to rise now, burnt orange shafts of light sneaking through the gap in her curtains. He released her hand, using his own to turn her until she was in his arms again, kissing her with a confident force that left her in no doubt that he wanted this.
She wanted it, too. Wanted him. He reached down to cup her breasts through her pajama top, making her thighs clench deliciously against each other.
And then he lifted her up, and carried her to bed.
Just touching her chased all the shadows away. Rich climbed between her thighs, using his own, more powerful legs, to open hers a little more, and kissed her again, marveling at how sweet she tasted. She was like a drug. He couldn’t get enough of her. Laying on the bed beneath him, she felt like a gift meant only for him.
“Can I take this off?” He ran his finger along the hem of her tank. Meghan nodded, her flaming hair a halo as it cascaded over her white pillow. He inched it up, his mouth dry as he took in the paleness of her skin. She was flawless, her body taut, yet soft. Her flesh was warm as he traced his fingers over her. And when her top was off, he pressed his own bare chest against her, letting out a groan as his almost-painful excitement pressed against her warm, damp core.
Her breasts were as beautiful as the rest of her, peaked with dark nipples that hardened as he traced his finger around them. He brushed his lip against one, softly swirling his tongue against the peak, pleasure surging through him as she gasped when he sucked her in.
He could feel the drum of his pulse as it throbbed through his erection. Could feel the heat of his blood as it rushed around him. And then there was her. Meghan. The woman he’d fantasized about way too many times, looking up at him with those soft green eyes that haunted his dreams.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a rasp.
“So are you,” she whispered, a smile playing at her lips as she traced the line of his stomach, down to the waistband of his jeans.
“What do you want? How far should we…” He blinked, trying to find the right words.
“I want you. All of you,” she said, her voice gritty.
Damn if that didn’t make him harder still. “I haven’t got anything,” he told her. And he wasn’t willing to leave her now. The spell they were under was too enticing, too perfect.
