Anything for Her - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,32
arms circled his neck and she rose on tiptoe to fit against him better. To hang on, too. Her legs didn’t feel as reliable as usual.
The kiss gradually deepened. His tongue was in her mouth, not thrusting hard but stroking. She sucked on it, and felt his big body jolt. With a groan, he half lifted her and his hips rocked against hers. Heat rocketed through her. So much, so fast.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Allie.” He sounded shaken, his voice rough. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”
Old fears knocked for attention, but she seemed helpless to stop herself from rubbing against him. And she wanted this. She wanted him.
“I’m not on birth control.” Kill the mood, that would do it.
A nerve jumped in his cheek. “I’ve been carrying a couple of condoms since the first time I kissed you.”
“I do want you.” Then, “Please.”
“God.” Relief transformed his face before he bent his head and rested his forehead against hers. “Your bedroom.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He took her hand and led her, as if she didn’t know the way. She saw his gaze sweep over the room and was momentarily self-conscious. There was more of her in this room than anywhere else in her life. No one else had ever been in it. She’d always thought she’d have time to tuck away her few keepsakes. Panic had barely stirred when his glittering blue eyes locked onto hers again.
“Pretty,” he said thickly.
Her bedroom?
“Let me pull back the quilt.”
She flushed, but was grateful. Sex could be...messy.
“Hearts and Gizzards.”
Nolan stopped, still gripping the covers. “What?”
Her cheeks were probably blazing now. “I... That’s what the pattern is called. This is...” Why would he care? Oh, she was making an idiot of herself, she knew she was. “It’s the first quilt I made that truly satisfied me.”
She saw him look more closely.
“It’s beautiful,” he said, voice gruff. “Everything you make is beautiful.”
“It was the quality of the piecing and quilting that...” Allie stopped. “Why am I talking about a quilt?”
He laughed and tugged her up against him. “Because you’re nervous?” He seemed to think about that. “I guess I am, too. But why are you?”
“It’s been a long time. And I wasn’t very good at sex. Or something...” She trailed off, her humiliation growing.
“Not good at it?” He cocked his head. “You mean you didn’t enjoy it?”
“It was...okay.” She’d only gotten this far with a couple of boyfriends over the years, one in college, and one a year or two after she’d graduated.
She suspected she’d gone to bed with them because of social pressure. A relationship reached a certain point, that’s what you did. Only, she’d been dating as much to be normal as because she actually felt anything special for either guy. She had never really and truly wanted a man before, not with this heat that curled inside her, weak knees, shaky certainty.
His mouth had a wry quirk. “I can’t claim to be the world’s greatest lover. I’ve had a few girlfriends over the years, but that’s all—a few. I’d like to promise you a sublime experience, but, uh, if it’s all in technique, I don’t know if I can.”
Now she’d killed the mood. And she quite desperately didn’t want him to retreat.
“I’m sort of guessing satisfaction isn’t about technique,” she said, still probably blushing. With her skin tone, she did that well. “Maybe it’s about how you feel about someone.”
“Well, it could be a combination.” He swallowed. “If it’s anything about what I feel, maybe I can promise sublime.”
Allie released a huge breath. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
He said something under his breath, fervent, almost harsh, and then was kissing her again, and it didn’t matter that they’d stopped to talk about quilt patterns or previous sexual experience. Nothing mattered but touching him and being touched by him, the hard beat of his heart beneath her hand and the dizzying speed of her own pulse.
He lifted his mouth from hers long enough to peel her T-shirt over her head and make a sound of pleasure. Her hands slid under the hem of his T, finding warm, hard flesh and smooth skin until they encountered soft chest hair. Impatient, she was the one to pull back so she could divest him of his shirt. He took the opportunity to undo her bra hook and slide the straps from her shoulders.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, although her self-consciousness returned. She had rather small breasts. In fact, none of her curves were all that inspiring.