Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel) - By Kate Perry Page 0,32

mouth, one at a time, before working his way down.

Before she could catch her breath, he pressed his next kiss right between her legs.

She gasped in surprise, and then he licked into her and she gasped in pleasure. She gripped his hair as he did it again—and again. Her head swam, and she gripped the bed covers to anchor herself.

He loved her with his mouth, like he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was the most delicious chocolate dessert and he wanted to lap up every last bite.

Out of nowhere, her climax hit her, making her shout out, her thighs tensing around his head. She was about to tell him to stop when he slid back up and pushed into her.

He gazed into her eyes, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Then he smiled, kissed her, and she felt so right.

He rolled his hips into her, and sharp jabs of electric shock zipped through her. She gasped, grabbing his arms, about to tell him it was too intense, that she was going to die, when she suddenly came again.

He slowed down, long, hard strokes deep inside her, the column of his neck taut. He thrust into her one more time, tensing, crying out her name as he came, too.

Instead of crushing her with his weight, he rolled onto his back, pulling her over him.

She began to sit up, to get off, but he held her in place. Feeling him stir inside her, she looked at him, a flare of desire miraculously lighting her up all over again. "Again?"

"Yes." He pulled her on top, urging her to ride him.

"I need your cowboy hat," she said, propping herself up.

His fingers tightened on her and he pulsed inside her, obviously liking the thought. "That can be arranged."

"Is there anything you can't arrange?"

"For you?" He shook his head, his smile sweet. "Even the moon, Nicole."

Her heart flopped, but she shook it off. Tonight was only about pleasure—about Happily Right Now. Happily Ever After didn't happen with a man like Griffin Chase, no matter how much you wanted it.

Chapter Fourteen

In the Regencies Nicole loved, the heroines were always limp with satisfaction at the end of lovemaking, but she herself had never experienced that sort of ultimate pleasure. Not that she didn't like sex—she loved it. It was always good—or at least passable enough.

Sex with Grif was beyond anything she'd ever imagined. She'd screamed.

It'd been magical.

Except for the one part where he'd confessed about looking at her sketchpad. There wasn't anything she could do about it now, but it didn't mean she felt any less exposed. Except it was Grif, and he knew her better than almost anyone.

And he knew her much better now, having explored her body all night long.

Apparently she'd slept tangled in him, his legs scissored between hers, his arm draped around her, her head nestled into his shoulder. She liked it, probably more than she should. It felt good, weighty as opposed to light and insubstantial, and that worried her. It was supposed to be easy.

Actually it was incredibly easy.

She cuddled into him, and he stirred, nuzzling her shoulder. "What time do you have to be at work?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

She'd forgotten about reality. She wilted, wishing she could stay here forever. "At eleven."

Grif craned his neck to look at the clock on the bedside stand. "I don't think I've ever been so glad it's only nine o'clock."

She chuckled. "You never liked to wake up early in school either."

"I'm civilized." He rolled on top of her. "You'll like to stay in bed, too."

When she felt his hardness, she sighed happily. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He lifted his head, as though scenting a challenge. "Maybe? Am I going to have to prove it?"

She sighed again as his erection touched her intimately. "I'm not sure I'll believe you until you do."

"In that case..." He scratched her neck with his raspy cheek, his hand stealing down between their bodies, all the way down to where she needed him most.

She arched up, sensitive from the night's play, and then gasped in pleasure as his fingers homed in on the perfect spot.

He lowered his head to her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue. "We need to order room service," he murmured against her skin.

"We do?" She speared her fingers in his hair. She could care less about food, not when he was snacking on her.

"You can't go to work hungry. And you need to shower too."

She kissed down the column of his neck.