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“That’s plenty, thanks.” She pretended to glare when he chuckled. “What about all these hundreds of gorgeous, perfect women? ”
“Not
much.”
“And your point is…”
“My point is.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Why you?”
She had to swallow before she could speak. He felt the pull, too, and was just as confused by it. “You promise it’s not my sexy outfits?”
“Again with the promises!” He threw up his hands, let them slap down. “My God, you’re demanding.”
Candy giggled so hard she made a terrible snorting noise.
“Mmm, do that again,” he whispered. “That is soo hot.”
“Stop.” She got her giggles under control. Barely. “Stop that.”
Justin grinned with such tenderness she grew quiet and solemn almost immediately. A crazy hopeful shimmer started in her belly, spread down low and then up to threaten her heart.
He kissed her again, hands cupping her head, sweetly at first, then as their lips clung and parted, clung again, her shimmer turned warm, then hot. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anybody as much as she wanted this man, and if he felt even some of the same way, then she thought she understood what he meant when he asked, why her?
Why him? She didn’t understand it either, not fully.
But right now, understanding wasn’t as important as feeling. The thick softness of the hair at the nape of his neck, the smooth taut muscle covering his shoulders, the firm pressure of his mouth against her cheek, her temple, her lips, the warmth of his hands sliding under her shirt and exploring the bare skin of her back. He pulled her shirt over her head; she helped him, lifting her arms, dropping them back down to let her bra slide to the floor after he unhooked it with quick fingers.
He steadied her against him, pelvises joined, upper bodies apart. She knew he was looking at her half-nakedness, and she tried not to tense or wait for judgment.
But the way he said her name, with awe and desire, made her bold. She lifted her head and wondered why she’d been denying herself the pleasure of his face. He wasn’t ogling or leering, but studying, admiring. He lifted one hand, palm flat, and slowly stroked it across her chest, barely brushing her nipples, the stimulation gentle but wildly arousing for its restraint.
Again, he passed his palm over, then back and again, until a moan broke from her. He smiled, eyes holding hers, his that magical deep brown. His palm curved, molded to her skin, his caresses grew more urgent. Candy moaned again, and arched back, pushing her pelvis against his, the bulge of his erection hard and tantalizing between her legs.
His smile vanished; his eyes glazed. He took her hand and led her over to his bed.
She stood waiting while he took off his shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them. She seemed caught in some spell that made her feel something significant and meaningful was about to happen between them that involved more than sex, which frightened and beckoned her with equal power.
He emerged from his clothes, muscular long thighs, broad chest covered lightly with hair she couldn’t wait to touch, penis reaching toward her as if it had a mind of its own. He stood before her, unself-conscious, eyes reading her, still dark but no longer glazed. “You’re sure you want this?”
“Oh, yes.” She laughed at the understatement. “I’m just, I don’t know, trying to take it all in emotionally.”
She closed her eyes briefly. Take it all in emotionally? For heaven’s sake, he was going to think she expected a ring.
“I know what you mean. Whatever else, it’s always intense between us.”
“Yes.” She reached to trace a line down his arm, a lump in her throat. His beautiful features were too familiar somehow, more than they should be for the short time she’d known him.
He smiled slowly. Reached for her. “Hey, Candy.”
“Mmm?”
“Let’s make it even more intense.”
“Yes.” She rubbed her breasts against his chest lightly, loving the coarse tickle on her skin. She took off her glasses, pulled down her sensible professor pants and bent to lower her panties. On the way up to standing, she surprised him by taking the tip of his penis into her mouth, letting her tongue roll around its edges, savoring the baby-smoothness of the skin, the clean male taste and the drop of moisture that told her she was turning him on.
