time.
Helping her out and helping himself, he took off her belt, then found the zipper tab on her dress and eased it down her back. When he reached the end, she gave another graceful shrug of her shoulders, and the golden sheath slipped off her and pooled in a pile at her feet.
Geezus. He followed the slide of material down her body with his gaze, and every part of him that was hard got harder—the curvaceous mounds of her breasts filling out the lacy cups of a black bra, a waist he could span with his hands, black lace panties slung around a pair of silky hips, and she was standing there in front of him in a pair of spike-heeled ankle boots.
All was right with the world—and it only got better when she shoved his jeans and boxers over his hips.
“Oh,” she said, staring down at him. “Oh, my.”
Oh, my, my, my was right, he thought. Just having her look at him sent a surge of pleasure through him, made him ache with wanting her, with wanting to see her beautifully, wonderfully naked. The panties were nice, real heartbreakers, but they had to go, along with the bra.
He quickly untied his boots and toed out of them, then pushed his jeans the rest of the way off his body and kicked them aside.
“Don’t worry, Jane. I won’t hurt you,” he promised, leaning down, kissing her cheek, and pushing her undies down her legs. He’d had a plan for what happened next, a real simple plan that began and ended with removing her bra—but he got sidetracked with the panty business.
He wanted to be careful with her. He wanted to take things slow, to really savor the taste and feel of her—next time.
This time slid past “careful” the moment he slid his hand between her legs, into the soft, secret warmth of her, into intimacy. It was surrender to the heat of the moment, the strung-out sweetness. It was hot and getting hotter with every soft kiss she pressed to his mouth, with every slide of her hands over his body, with every time he teased her with his fingers. She read him like a page of Braille, her fingers tracing every curve of muscle, every line of scar tissue. He was a beast, no doubt about it, but there was only tenderness and need in her touch—and only reverence in his. She was silky hot and wet, and softly whispering in his mouth of her needs and desire.
Oh, yeah, sweetheart. It had been a real big night, lots of speed and screamin’ tires, lots of danger and some bad, rough stuff—and what they needed, what he was going to give her was release from all that tension, a chance to escape the harshness of the night, if only for a while.
He reached for her leg and drew it up around his waist, making room for himself in the cradle of her hips, and he rocked against her.
“Mmmm …” She moved with him, pressing herself against him, and he pushed up inside her—so slowly, so mind-bendingly slowly.
When he was only partway in, she caught her breath on a small gasp, and he kissed her mouth.
“I won’t hurt you, baby,” he whispered against her lips. And he wouldn’t. He was going to give her pleasure, as much as she could take.
With his hands holding on to her hips, pressing her back against the wall, he dropped to his knees and kissed her belly.
“J.T.?”
He answered her question with the soft slide of his tongue up through the center of her desire—and so it went, with her melting into his mouth and him loving every minute of it while the rain came down and the thunder rolled.
When she came, it was so intensely erotic, an electrifying turn-on for him, the way her body went rigid in his arms with her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close. He let her ride the sweetness for as long as it lasted, his tongue teasing her, until she went limp against the wall. With the taste of her still warm and wondrous in his mouth, he rose to his feet and fitted himself to her. He was so ready, and this time when he slid in, so was she, soft and still pulsing with the contractions of her pleasure.
She sighed, and the deeper he went, the softer she groaned.
“Mmmm … J.T.” She spread her legs a little wider, taking him in, taking all of him,