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Her face, so beautiful, had been the epitome of a woman in the throes of passion, and thoroughly put his fantasies to shame.
She cracked open one eye.
He grinned at her. “Although I will admit, I’m very pleasedyou’repleased.”
“We’re not finished, are we?” The disappointment on her face pleased him even more.
“Not even close.” He lowered his head and captured her lips again. Keeping his movements slow, he traced a path down her abdomen to the area between her legs. With his thumb on the little nub of flesh, he inserted the tip of one finger.
She jerked beneath his touch, then grasped his hair, tugging slightly.
And he loved it.
“You’re very wet,” he whispered, tracing the shell of her ear with his tongue. “And before you ask, that’s very, very good.”
He pulled in a shuddering breath when she mimicked his movements and inched her fingers from where they played with the hair on his chest down to rest on his arousal. Even through his trousers, her touch set him on fire.
Eyes widening, she stared at him. “It’s so hard.”
Unable to help himself, his grin widened. “And that’s very, very good as well.” He hovered above her, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. “In case you harbored any doubts, it means I desire you.”
Lust darkened her blue eyes, and she sucked in her bottom lip.
His erection jerked beneath her fingers, demanding to be set free. All his promises to take things slowly surrendered to the overpowering need to unite with her.
But first . . .
“Priscilla, are you absolutely certain this is what you wish? Once it’s done, there’s no going back.”
In answer, she grasped the back of his head, pulled him toward her, and pressed her mouth to his.
Even as wet as she was, he needed her to find completion first. He continued to stroke her, teasing the sensitive area and inserting another finger, hoping to stretch her in preparation.
Tongues performed a frenetic dance. As she matched him in boldness, his fingers matched the in and out rhythm.
She moaned and mewed beneath his ministration, her hands wildly traversing his body. Shoulders, hair, back, groin. Her nails scratched and dug into his skin. But unlike the marks Catpurrnicus had left, he welcomed Priscilla’s claim to his body.
At his breaking point, he reluctantly broke their kiss, instead laving and suckling at her breast.
She stiffened. “Timothy! Timothy!” She came apart in his arms.
Huzzah!
Uneasy emotion poked at his brain—a persistent knock on the metaphorical door he’d kept locked for five years. Briefly—no more than a fraction of a moment—he considered ending things there and then. Perhaps she would be satisfied. He’d given her the passion she desired.
But if he opened that door . . .
If he went the one step further and consummated the passion burning within him . . .
There’s no going back.
His unspoken words were not only meant for her.
* * *
Never in herwildest imaginings had Priscilla thought she could feel as she did at that moment. She floated on a cloud, with fireworks exploding all around her. The delicious tension building within her as Timothy touched her in her most intimate place had seemed unbearable.
And then, when she thought she would expire from the need, it happened. She still wasn’t certain what exactlyitwas, but it was more than a thousand times more pleasurable.
