body shifting slightly, moving on top of her, exactly where she wanted him.
They let the kiss linger, his hand rubbing her side as their bodies aligned to each other, curving naturally, intimately, expectantly. Then his fingers found the top button of her blouse and slid it free. One by one, while they continued to kiss, he undid each button, then pushed the sides apart and ran his palm up her abdomen to the front closure of her bra and easily unclasped it.
Babette squirmed beneath him. She suddenly felt shy, a bit embarrassed about her shape, or lack thereof.
Jeff must have sensed her nervousness, because he eased his mouth from hers, and looked into her eyes. “Having second thoughts?”
“No,” she whispered, then inadvertently glanced at her chest.
He shook his head slightly. “Babette, you’re perfect.” He lowered his head to her chest, brushed a tender kiss across her nipple. “You know, I’ve heard that a lot of women who have their breasts done end up losing all natural sensations there, particularly here,” he said, running a fingertip around her nipple. “And to me, that’s the sexiest thing about them. The way they’re so responsive to the touch.” He kept that wonderful finger circling one nipple, while his lips found the other and drew it inside his warm mouth.
Babette’s hips lifted involuntarily, a direct response to the amazing things that his finger and mouth were doing to her breasts. Little or not, they were responsive.
“That’s what turns me on more than anything to do with size, Babette. The way they respond to the touch. The way they respond to my touch. Babette, I want you, exactly the way you are. I wouldn’t want you any other way, and I wouldn’t want any part of you any other way.”
His words touched her heart, because she had no doubt he meant them. She could see it in his eyes, hear the sincerity in his voice.
“Jeff.”
“Yeah?”
“Make love to me.” She should have thought about her words, should have told him something that didn’t say so much, merely because she’d never said those words before, and because he knew it. This wasn’t having sex; it was more, and she had no doubt they both knew that while this wasn’t the first time they’d ever had sex, it was a first for them. They were heading into new territory, and Babette couldn’t wait. Her heart was at the edge, and she was ready to let it fall. “Please.”
He stood, slid his arms beneath her and scooped her off the couch. Then, walking toward her bedroom, he kissed her softly. “We’re going to need more room.”
Babette laughed, but her laughter died when he placed her in the center of the bed. She’d worn a black linen skirt, and he unfastened it, slid it down her legs and dropped it to the floor, then took a moment to stare at her, wearing nothing but a purple thong.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, taking his hands to her waist, then sliding his fingers beneath the tiny straps before moving them down her legs and dropping the satin panties to the floor. Again, he paused, looking at her boldly.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered. “I want to see you too.” Then she looked toward the windows, and the drawn drapes. “And I want to hear the waves when we make love, and see you in the moonlight.”
He grinned, crossed the room and opened the drapes, and indeed, the moonlight cast him in perfect silhouette. Then he opened the doors and let the sounds and scents of the Gulf in, and Babette smiled, then reached for him. “Now, everything’s perfect, except you’re still wearing your clothes.”
Another incredible smile spread across his face, and he pulled his white T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Babette felt her desire stir. His abdomen had always been impressive, lines of powerful muscles leading the way to—his pants and underwear hit the floor—and Babette’s attention left his abs to focus on that part of him that would join them completely.
“You’re beautiful,” she said, and he was. Hard and bold and male and as perfect as anything she’d ever seen. Perfect . . . for her.
He climbed onto the bed, moving beside her, then running a palm down her stomach to where she burned the most. His finger passed over her clitoris, massaged it gently while her hips curved upward toward that blissful pressure. She was so close, and he’d barely touched her.
“I don’t want to wait, Jeff. It’s been