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Then she couldn’t say anything else. She closed her eyes again, focused only on what was happening here and now, not on the big screen. Mick was doing the most delightful things with his mouth. His whispers caressed her neck, his lips so close they brushed the skin there, and when his tongue slid out to flick at the pulse point, she writhed against him.
His hands moved across her, lightly, letting the silk fabric of her short pajamas create incredible friction against her skin. His touch varied, a heart-stopping brush against a breast, quick stroke of the hip, a leisurely hand curving around her waist. And all the while he continued to whisper, to kiss her neck, her jaw, her throat.
When he slid his hand past her stomach, down between her thighs to palm her crotch, she couldn’t help arching toward him.
“So hot. So wet,” he growled.
“Hate you…”
“Uh huh. Open.”
She spread her legs a tiny bit, wanting more. Just a littlemore.
He moved his fingers to the opening of her pajama shorts and slid them up into the curls over her mound. Tangling there, he hinted at the kind of touch she wanted most. She would swear she could feel the heat of his thumb as it hovered over her clit.
“Damn you, Mick,” she said as she turned to give him better access.
“Shut up, Caro,” he replied as he caught her mouth in a deep, hungry, slow kiss.
The taste of his tongue brought a long, shuddery moan of pleasure. He captured it with as they shared breaths and wet, deep tongue thrusts.
Mick’s kiss had always made her weak in the knees. Now it made her weak in her entire body. So weak she sagged against him, which made it that much easier for him to continue the lethargic caresses.
“You’re still so beautiful,” he murmured as he moved his mouth out of her pants and up to her waist. His fingers began working the buttons of her pajama top, but she had no will to resist. When it fell away, she opened her eyes to watch Mick lower his lips to her breast. He kissed and lightly licked one mound, avoiding the tip, her until she was ready to scream at him to take her nipple in his mouth.
She pushed against him in silent demand, and his laughter only inflamed her more. “Please, Mick.”
Instead of giving her what she wanted, he went right back to the hot zone. His other wicked, naughty hand slid back into her pajama shorts. This time he slid his fingers right into the wet lips of her sex and gave her the stroke she’d been dying for around her clit.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said on a moan as waves of pleasure built inside her.
Then he moved his lips to one nipple and sucked deeply and she gave herself over to it, willing her explosive climax to carry her over the edge.
But before she reached that peak, Mick gently pushed her off his lap and stood. She stared at him, dazed, confused, wanting more. He bent down and she reached up, ready to wrap her arms around his neck so he could carry her up to bed. It was crazy and dangerous, but she wanted him. Now.
He didn’t pick her up. Instead, he brushed one light kiss along her hairline. “Caroline?”
“Umm-hmm?” was the best she could manage.
His whisper was soft and barely penetrated the haze of lust in her brain. “I think you’d better invest in a vibrator.”
Then he walked out of the room.
CHAPTER NINE
HESTER TOMLINSON HATED everything to do with the reality TV show invading Derryville. But that didn’t mean she was any less curious than everyone else in town. Especially on Saturday, the official kick-off day of shooting.
“I didn’t think the president himself could get Decatur Street shut down. How’d these folks manage to do it?”
The question was asked by Maxine MacDonald, one of the wealthy matriarchs of Derryville. And, unfortunately, a reality TV show junkie. Hester had criticized the show to Maxine once. Only once. She knew well enough not to bite the hand that donated to her.
“I imagine if you have enough money, you can buy anyone,” Hester replied, knowing Maxine was too dotty to recognize a backhanded insult.
She and Maxine stood by the front window of Darlene’s Dresses and More, watching the crowd scurrying around outside. There were cameras set up at either end of the intersection, a mobile home parked in the parking lot of the post office and people yelling their fool heads off all over the place.
“Are you sure this color looks all right?” Maxine said, sounding anxious. “It won’t look too cheap on TV?”
Hester, who couldn’t believe someone with Maxine’s money and standing would want to be seen on a cheesy television show, gave her a supportive smile. “You’re fine. And classy.” She cast a quick look outside and frowned. “Unlike most of these other fools.”
