Dream Of You - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,32
his mouth to mine.
I kissed him, and I don’t know if he could read minds or if he really was a damn unicorn, but he let me set the pace, allowed me to play. I mapped out his mouth, covering every delectable centimeter, and when I wanted more, he opened his mouth to my searching kiss. I leisurely explored him, breathing in the taste of him.
Far too immersed in the sensations kissing him created, I wholeheartedly welcomed the moment he took over. His lips were demanding, and I yielded to him, letting out a breathless moan against his hot mouth as his hand finally moved from my hip, smoothing up over my breast. I sucked in a sharp breath. The dress had a built-in bra, and the thin cotton was no barrier against the heat of his hand.
I moaned into his mouth as his hand closed over my breast and kneaded gently. His chest rumbled against my side. “God, we’re not even twenty minutes into the movie.”
A tiny laugh escaped me. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Hell, do you even have to ask that?” His deft fingers found my pebbled nipple through the dress. Liquid fire poured through me. “I like to think it’s a damn good thing.”
I gasped for air. “I…I like the sound of that.”
“You do?” He shifted so his weight rested on his left arm as his right hand slipped under the neckline of my dress. My back arched. “Yeah, you do.”
“I do,” I admitted.
He lowered his mouth to mine once more, kissing me. “I don’t think I can do the gentleman thing any longer. I want to touch you.” His fingers plucked at my nipple, wringing a cry out of me. “But I really want to touch you elsewhere.”
My body shuddered. I had a good idea that I knew where “elsewhere” was. I closed my eyes and whispered, “I want that too.”
“Thank God.” His hand left my breast, and I nearly ached from the loss, but his hand was on the move again, smoothing down my stomach.
I blinked open my eyes, watching as he glided down my stomach, over my thigh. My breath lodged in my throat as he worked his hand under the skirt of my dress. I bit down on my lip as I gripped his arm. His gaze flicked to mine. “Don’t stop,” I said.
“No?” He kissed me, nipping at my lip as he lifted his head. When I shook my head, he fused our mouths together. His hand skated up my bare thigh, and then over the lacy edge of my panties.
I held my breath, partly due to the swirling pleasure building inside of me and I knew he could feel just how soft I was. There wasn’t an ounce of hardness to my thighs or my hips. He didn’t seem to notice or care, because his hand had made its way underneath my panties.
My hand tightened around his arm as his fingers reached the apex of my thighs. He brushed his lips over mine. “Open for me?”
Never in my life had there been three words that were hotter than that. My thighs parted, and his finger skimmed over my damp skin. The touch was barely there, but I jerked nonetheless.
“So sensitive,” he murmured. “I like that.”
My heart was pounding as he ran a lazy finger over my wet center and then he eased one finger in. A low sound worked its way out of me, and when his thumb pressed down on the buddle of nerves, I gasped out, “Colton.”
His mouth covered mine as fierce heat surfaced, building and building until I was sure I would combust. My hips bucked against his hand and blood pounded, creating a ringing in my ears.
No. Wait. That wasn’t in my ears. It was a phone—Colton’s phone. He ignored it—thank God—as he worked his finger in and out, devouring me with kisses. The tension coiled and I suddenly wanted, needed, to feel his skin against mine. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking it up. His body jerked and he made a harsh sound the second my hand touched the hard planes of his stomach.
Good God, there wasn’t an ounce of him that was soft. My eager fingers traced each tightly packed ab. My hand dipped, brushing the button on his jeans.
The phone started ringing again, a few seconds after it had ended, and this time, Colton’s hand stilled between my thighs. I almost prayed he didn’t stop, but he did.
Groaning, he lifted his head