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I follow his lead and do the same to him, kissing him, then touching my tongue to his lips, and he sighs. The thought that I’m turning him on pleases me, and when he eventually touches his tongue to mine, I respond with a shy thrust of my own. It’s all the encouragement he needs to deepen the kiss, and he tightens his arms around me, sliding his tongue inside my mouth, but it’s not disgusting or invasive; it’s gentle and sensual and erotic. All the hairs on my body rise in response, and an ache begins deep inside me.
He’s in no hurry, it seems, because he kisses me like that for ages, one arm tight around me, one hand in my hair, or stroking my face. I slide my arm around his waist and feel the hem of his shirt, pause as I debate whether to take this step, then think screw it, lift the fabric, and slip my hand onto his back.
Ooh, first contact. His skin is warm and smooth, and as I skate my fingers up a little, my thumb brushing up his side, I feel toned muscle. “Mmm,” he murmurs against my mouth—he likes that, so I move my hand around his back and slide it up to between his shoulders, then draw my fingers down his spine. I like touching him, it feels possessive, as if I’m claiming him. At this moment, he doesn’t belong to any other woman, and I can pretend he’s mine.
He moves on the sofa, placing his hands beneath me, and then he lifts me, drawing me across his lap. I gasp as I find myself straddling him, but he doesn’t give me time to think about it; he cups my head and brings my lips down to his, tightening his other arm around me until I’m flush against him. Oh my, I can feel his erection even through his jeans, hard against my mound.
Resting his hands on my hips, he strokes them up my back to my shoulders, down my arms, then back up, still kissing me leisurely. It feels as if we could do this all night, this gentle exploration of each other, and I adore it; I love that he’s taking his time with me, that he’s not rushing me. I sink my hands into his hair, and I do what he did to me earlier—kiss his cheek, his eyebrows, his forehead, down his nose. In response, he kisses my neck and up to my ear, nuzzles it, and touches his tongue to the lobe. A tiny moan I hadn’t planned escapes my lips, and so he takes the lobe into his mouth and sucks gently, making me shudder.
Mmm, this is nice. I feel hazy and glowing, as if I’m floating in a warm sea that’s carrying me away toward the horizon. It’s fanciful, and I’m sure some of it is due to the whisky, but most of it is down to Marc’s gentle hands and mouth, and the feelings he’s arousing in me.
I love this slow adventure, but it’s not intimate enough. I want to feel his skin again; I want to feel him against me. I bring my hands down to the top button of his shirt and move back to look at him. His lips curve up, so I push the button through the hole and move down to the next one, slowly unwrapping him. I’m concentrating too much on the shirt to meet his eyes, but I know he’s watching me as I undo the last button and move the sides of his shirt apart.
I’ve seen him topless several times when he’s been working around the Ark and he’s gotten hot, but this is different; he’s here, in front of me, and I can touch him. I place my palms on his chest and fan out my fingers, then brush them down his front, exploring his muscles with my fingertips, admiring the view as I go. His chest hair curls like the hair on his head, an attractive scatter across his ribs.
I lift my gaze to his. He looks a mixture of amused and aroused, his lips curved up, his eyes at half-mast. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he lifts his hands to my blouse and begins to undo the buttons.
My breasts rise and fall faster than usual with my deep, fast breaths, but I sit still as he reaches the bottom of the blouse and parts the sides. He drops his gaze and sighs, then draws his fingers down my collarbone and over the top of my breasts where they’re propped up in the pretty cream lacy bra.
He pushes the blouse off my shoulders, and I let it fall to the floor. Then he pulls me toward him again for another kiss.
This is slightly different; it’s not hard or forceful, but there’s heat behind it, and he cups the back of my head, keeping me there, as if he’s determined to claim the kiss. I put my arms around his neck, leaning against him, and ohhh… the feel of my skin against his fires me up, and I sink my hands into his hair, clenching my fingers. His tongue slides against mine, and unbidden, my hips rock against his. Mmm… that’s sexy, I feel hot and dizzy, filled with an odd ache, a deep desire I haven’t felt before, not to this extent.
