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The comment throws me off. I lift my head, and our eyes and mouth become aligned.
In perfect position for a kiss.
I hold back.
Not ready to know what his mouth might feel like against mine.
Not yet.
“Let’s see if we can change that,” I say, concentrating on his chest.
My desire to touch him gathers my strength. I finish unbuttoning his shirt and pull it free from his pants. I yank it back from his broad shoulders, exposing his muscles and tanned flesh.
Dragging my eyes from his perfection, I peer up at him. “Last night when I saw you…” I pause, keeping my strength locked and loaded. “I wanted to know what you’d feel like on my hands. I haven’t touched a man in over a year.” I search him. He remains stoic and silent, almost as if daring me. “And now I am going to find out.”
Not waiting for a response, I place my hands on his chest, drawn to the overwhelming need to feel him. His strength radiates through me, finding and knotting my desire.
Tying me up with need and want.
I run my hands over the span of his shoulders and back down his chest. I skim my fingertips along his rippling abdomen muscles. Everything about him, from his intoxicating scent to the feel of his soft, virile skin beneath my fingers, is impeccable.
I don’t understand it. It’s as if he was created for me. We fit, and that fit feels amazing.
I lean my face against his warm chest, embellished with just the right amount of hair. Inhale his aroma while listening to his steady heartbeat. My senses tune into every aspect of his being.
Lost to an intimacy I haven’t felt in so long. Maybe never. My eyelids lower.
I rub my cheek against the smoothness of his power and brush my quivering lips over his warm, welcoming flesh. The connection awakens the sensual parts of me—the woman I’ve ignored for too long.
I move across his skin with my eyes closed. My mouth explores his body.
Finding a nipple, I latch my lips around it.
“Cassie.” He says my name in a husky, almost desperate whisper.
I lick, nibble, and suck, wanting to draw everything from him and take it deep inside.
His hand slips up the back of my neck. He grips my hair and yanks my head back.
I flash to his dark hooded eyes, feeling the firm tug to my pussy.
How did he get his hands free?
Honestly, I don’t care.
Those powerful, beautiful hands are finally touching me.
“Stop,” he says in a stern tone, though it makes me want to strip my clothes off.
His nostrils flare, and his chest rises. He glares down at me with a mixture of anger and desire.
I relish the feel of being captured by him. His hand holds me back. His dangerous eyes warn me of his provocative aspirations.
“Make me,” I challenge, allowing him to tame me with his firm grip.
“Fuck. I can’t,” he rasps just before his lips crush against mine.
Chapter Twelve
