Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,105

until this point have been short lived. Now that we have the time, I let my eyes wander across the solid ivory surface. He’s physically flawless, and I can’t take him in fast enough. I pause at his pectorals, then move on to the toned lines of his thickly muscled stomach. I count his abs and get to six. One by one, I touch them. Everything is firm. Back, stomach, ass, thighs. There’s no give or chubbiness anywhere. His entire body is wrapped in silky skin.

“All your rock climbing has paid off. You are exquisite.” I catch him blushing as he sits on his knees, straddling me. “I’m jealous of every woman who got to see you up close before I did.”

“Don’t be. It’s been a while.”

“How long?” I lean up and press a featherlight kiss to his oblique. He lets out a soft groan.

“A little over a year.”

“A year? Seriously?” I’m wide eyed with disbelief. How does a guy as sexy as Tate go a year without sex? “Women must throw themselves at you. How did you fight them all off?”

“It’s easy when you’re carrying a torch for someone else.”

My cheeks heat. Instead of lowering back down onto me, he moves between my legs, his face at my thighs.

Soft kisses trail up my right thigh, then back down my left. With his head still lowered, he slides his hand to my stomach, pressing me down flat on the bed.

I bite my lip to ward off the excited giggles bubbling at the base of my throat.

“What about you?” I say through a shaky breath.

“I told you.” His lips graze the hem of my lace panties. “I’m taking care of you tonight.”

With the hook of his finger, my panties move to the side. His face disappears under my dress, and I gasp. He’s wasting no time at all, it seems. His tongue finds me again, and the pleasure is immediate. The way his tongue slides against my most sensitive spot, it’s as if we’ve been at it together for years.

Again with the slow circles, again with the even pace. Just like the first time, he takes his cues from me well, then tailors his technique to my reactions. After every sharp breath and moan comes another measured, delicious lick. The pressure is perfect, heavenly. Both of my hands dig into his curls, but not to lead or adjust. To hold on for dear life because this sublime friction is going to send me over the edge soon.

“Tate,” I cry.

He hums a response but doesn’t stop. Another half dozen swirls, and my body winds tighter. Another hum, then lightning strikes. Waves thrash through me, but he holds me steady with his face and hands. I open my eyes and see double. When my vision focuses a few seconds later, Tate is standing over me. He pulls me to the edge of the bed.

“You are way too good at that,” I pant.

I gaze up and take in the visual of his bare, sweaty chest as he heaves. Aftershocks pound through my legs, and I watch intently as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Damn, those lips. Those lips that kiss me like no one else can. Those lips that now own me.

“No such thing,” he says. “And I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

He pulls my dress over my head, then peels off my underwear and bra. They land in a small pile on the wood floor, as do my heels once I sit up and kick them off. He drinks in the sight of my naked body with eager eyes. His gaze stops at all my naughty places first, then skims over every other part, ending at my face. Wide eyes and a tense jaw indicate an expression somewhere between lust and awe. I cross my arms when I notice he’s still got his pants on and I’m the naked one.

“Shy all of a sudden?” he asks.

Even though it pains me, I let my arms fall to my sides. “Kind of. It’s difficult not to be when the only hard body in the room still has his pants on.”

I hope my joke conceals my dash of insecurity. My physique is a poor companion to his chiseled glory. I’m healthy for sure from consistent jogging, but I’m nowhere near as defined.

He frowns with renewed intensity. “Hey.” He grabs my chin gently, tilting my head up to look up at him. “Knock it off. You’re beautiful.”

The soft kiss he presses to