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Her hold on rational behavior slipped even further away the longer his demanding kisses peppered her skin. There was a wild animal lust building up in her belly and she didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep it under control. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep anything under control for that matter. Hell, she already felt woozy and dazed and a little bit drunk on his kisses…
His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. As soon as she felt his demanding hands on the sensitive flesh of her belly, she was done for. Any semblance of sticking to the rules of polite society flew out the window. She was totally unmoored.
She grabbed her hem and whipped the garment off over her head, not caring one little bit how the rough action of pulling the jersey’s slim neck over her hair quickly mussed it up, or how cute and sexy the bra she was wearing was, or any of the normal—if vain—considerations she might think about in a situation like this.
Every conscious thought had fled her brain, or at least they were so quiet that she couldn’t hear them. Her animal nature had taken over, and it didn’t give a crap if the sporty bra she was wearing was going to make a good impression or not. She just wanted to be naked.
“Oh, fuck, I want you so much,” she breathed.
Apparently her animal nature also didn’t care about being ladylike or looking desperate.
It certainly didn’t seem to bother Donovan, though. In fact, the hunger she saw spark in his eyes at her words caused heat to well between her legs that put her earlier blush at the ballpark to shame.
He wanted her, she realized in that moment. He really wanted her. Not just sex. Her.
Fuck, no time to dwell on that or analyze it for meaning. Her animal nature wasn’t taking breaks to mull things over, not when there was so much getting naked to do.
She stood and fumbled with the clasp of her jeans. Donovan reached out to help her, but his fingers were also clumsy with lust and the two of them made more of a mess of it than when she’d been trying on her own.
Ella let out a breathless laugh then stepped back, took a deep breath to center herself, and then stripped out of her jeans. She went ahead and hooked her thumbs in her underwear and pulled them down along with her pants. That way she didn’t have to worry about whether or not they were “sassy panties” or her “beat-up drawers.” She’d just skip right past that step.
As she kicked aside the mass of rubber and fabric that was her shoes-jeans-undies combo, she straightened up, whipped off her bra, and tossed that across the room as well. She did all of this in one swift motion, which was impressive, if she did say so herself.
Donovan gave her a sexy half-smile and a slow clap, and she took an exaggerated bow.
“The Russian judge gave you a 9.8,” he joked.
“Damn. And they’re normally the sticklers.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how great your performance was.”
She took two slow, sultry steps over to him and planted one knee on each side of his thighs. When she had her weight settled, she scooted forward until their lips were inches apart, their breath mingling as she straddled him.
“If you think that was a great performance,” she whispered, “wait till you see what I’m about to do to you.”
