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‘My answer is yes please,’ she whispered, staring upwards to his mouth, his really sinfully beautiful mouth.
Sin had never looked so good to Tilda.
He stood, body rigid. Fine tremors, like those of a racehorse held back at the starting gates, were running through his body as she moved her soft lips across his. He stood still while her tongue slid tentatively and then with more confidence into his mouth, and then his control broke.
A low growl vibrated in his throat and he took charge of the kiss, plundering the warm, secret recesses of her mouth with a ravenous, primal hunger that shocked and excited her more than anything she had ever known. Then when she was faint and breathless the hunger slowly transitioned to a slow dance of seduction, of strokes and probing, retreat and advance, until nothing existed in her world but the taste of him. All she could smell was him and all she could feel was the ache inside her.
When the kiss stopped she was plastered up against him like a second skin, her breath coming in a series of frantic, uneven gasps.
Fire flamed in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her middle, picking her up so that their faces were level. Thrilled to the core by the display of casual masculine strength, she wound her arms around his neck, sliding her fingers deep in his abundant hair as she kissed the side of his mouth, then ran her tongue experimentally around the inner aspect of his lower lip. He jerked her back a little and, holding her gaze, slowly let her slide down his body, allowing her to feel his erection as the hardness pressed into softness of her belly the whole way.
Once on her feet, he pushed her a little way from him before he held out a hand.
‘Come.’
She stared up at him, utterly mesmerised. Standing there feet apart, his face a golden mask of need, he presented a pagan image, wild and unrestrained, that imprinted itself on her retinas as she reached for him.
Walking backwards, his eyes not leaving her face for a moment, he led her to a large, low couch before drawing her to him and kissing her while his big, capable hands and clever fingers moved in slow sweeps over her body, caressing her curves through the silk and bare skin he discovered on her back, awakening every nerve cell in her body into tingling painful life.
Little soft, mewling sounds left her mouth and were lost in his as he kissed his way up the curve of her exposed neck. Her back arched as he lowered her onto the wide sofa, sweeping the cushions off in one movement. He removed her crazy heels one by one, throwing each shoe over his shoulder.
She watched, her lids half-lowered, as he rested one knee on the sofa and, bracing the opposite foot, he took hold of one of her feet. She let out a slow gasp of surprise as he ran his finger down the high arch of it before licking the places his finger had touched.
The other foot received the same treatment, and then his fingers and tongue moved higher, sliding under the silk of her dress, reducing her in a matter of seconds to a mass of inarticulate craving.
‘I think,’ he said hoarsely. ‘We can dispose of this.’ He took the hem of her dress, scrunching the fabric in his hands as he worked his way up. She gave a little wriggle, lifting her hips to let the silk slide up and over her bottom, and then after a couple of expert tugs it joined her shoes.
Then his fingers went to the back of her head and, finding the clip that secured the loose knot, he freed her hair, watching with an expression of satisfaction as it fell in a silky skein down her back.
‘I’ve been wanting to do that since you walked in... I’ve been wanting to do a lot of things.’
‘Such as?’ she murmured huskily, feeling bold and womanly, feeling the power of her sex for the first time in her life.
He smiled his slow ‘devil on steroids’ smile that made her insides shake. ‘You’re in a such a hurry.’
He was not wrong; she was consumed by an urgency to have to have it all right now.
Wearing the satin camisole and a pair of silk shorts, the only thing the cut of the green dress had allowed, she fought the urge to hide behind her hands, instead letting them lie clenched at her sides, suddenly painfully conscious that she was not what he was used to.
He just sat there on the edge of the sofa looking down at her, his eyes watching the rise and fall of her breasts against the thin satin covering, the thrust of her nipples pushing through the fabric.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he groaned, bending forward to cover the hard nubs with his mouth through the fabric. Her body arched again and she sighed at the exquisite burning pleasure of the contact, which left wet marks against the silk.
He raised himself to take up where he’d left off on her legs, stroking her foot as he continued his carnal journey along the inner aspect of first one thigh and then the other. By the time he reached the burning wet apex of her legs, she was making hoarse little wild sounds.
He took a few moments to shrug off his jacket and then fight his way out of his shirt.
One hand trailing limply on the floor, Tilda watched him, catching her breath as his bronzed torso was revealed. She squirmed, the kick of lust low in her belly and the insistent pulse between her legs making her moan.
The sound brought his eyes to her face as he unfastened his belt and unzipped his trousers then, holding her eyes with a heavy-lidded, carnal stare, he kicked them aside before freeing his erection from his underwear then it too was slid down his long, lightly hair-roughened legs.
Tilda could barely breathe. The emotional constriction in her throat reduced her breathing to a series of shallow gasps. He was the epitome of everything male. There was not an ounce of spare flesh on his lean body to conceal the perfect musculature of his body, the strength of his shoulders, the muscular slabs across his flat belly.
‘Now you, I think.’
An expression of purpose stamped on his lean face, he applied himself, first to her camisole, which was disposed of in one slick motion. He paused then for a moment, staring with a mixture of stark greed and reverence at her hard-tipped breasts, purring out a low, stomach-shuddering,‘Perfect,’before removing her seriously damp shorts.
She was quivering as he then arranged his long length beside her and, with one hand between her legs, he pulled her up against him hard, his hand between them as he focused his carnal campaign on the wet aching folds between her legs.
