Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,102
She tugged on the drawstring at his waist. “Can I help you out of those pants, Officer Sexy?”
Con’s grin widened. “You can debrief me any time.”
Her giggles dissolved as he knelt and his pants slid low on his hips. With quick, efficient movements, he stripped them off. He was perfect. Male beauty and grace, strong and powerful. She blinked in awe. “Wow.”
His fingers flirted with her ankle, stroked her calf and then glided along her thigh, sliding up her nightgown. “Now, let’s get this off.”
Con supported her with a hand behind her back, and she sat up. He eased the gown over her head and tossed it on the chair. Her cream-lace panties quickly followed. Naked, she lay back, smiling as his smoky gaze roamed over her. She’d expected to feel shy and awkward. Instead, rightness and peace filled her—as if she’d been born for this moment, this man. Indeed, she had. Her body knew she belonged wholly to him, as did her heart.
Con inhaled raggedly. “You are so beautiful.” He reached over and plucked a pink rose from the pitcher on the nightstand. Holding the stem, he brushed her lips with the soft, cool petals. She breathed in the sweet fragrance.
Holding her gaze, he slowly, gently trailed the silky blossom along her throat, and she shivered under the erotic sensation.
As light as a butterfly’s wing, he stroked the velvety rose in a straight line down the center of her body, just skimming the surface of her curls. From her thighs to the tips of her toes, he treated each leg to the sensual caress. Then each arm, from fingertips to shoulders. The rose wandered in a leisurely, languid journey over every inch of her, melting her bones.
Con’s glowing eyes told her without words that she was precious. Cherished. Loved. The heart connection shimmered between them, and she silently returned his love. His eyes darkened. Message received.
If she lived to be a hundred, she would never lose the sense of wonder, the feeling of privilege to share his life.
He trailed the rose upward and circled her breasts with feathery strokes. Though he didn’t touch her nipples, they pebbled, and she arched her back. He continued the delicious torment until her skin was so sensitized every nerve ending sang. Until she yearned to feel his hands on her.
“Con,” she begged. “Touch me.”
He set aside the blossom and moved over her, his weight propped on his arms. He bent his head to her breasts. “You smell sweeter than any flower,” he murmured. His husky whisper bathed her skin in warmth. “A rose by any other name…” He leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh!” Her inner muscles clenched. A sweet, burning ache flowed through her and settled heavily at the juncture of her thighs.
He gave each breast his undivided attention, and with every flick of his warm, textured tongue, the fiery ache inside her grew. His hands skimmed her curves, followed by his mouth. He tasted and tantalized like a man sampling desserts at a banquet, learning her secrets, telling her his.
Clinging to him, she panted for air, her limbs taut and trembling. This was a different kind of fire…vital, alive and almost too exciting to bear.
Seeking relief, she rocked her hips into his hardness, but the molten friction only increased her need. Con had ignited the inferno and only he could satisfy the hungry, licking flames. She gripped his wide shoulders in desperation. “Con, please!”
He covered her mound with his broad palm, and then his thumb brushed an exquisitely sensitive spot that had her nearly leaping off the bed. “Easy, sweetheart.” His thumb stroked in a steady rhythm that set off bright, hot flares in every cell of her body.
She was shaking uncontrollably, couldn’t remember how to breathe. She gasped. “I could die any second.”
Con’s tender, amused gaze captured hers. “You won’t die.”
Neon ribbons of pleasure streamed through her. “It’s okay. I…don’t care. As…long…as you don’t stop doing…that.”
His laugh was uneven. “I’m just getting started, baby.”
Her belly tensed in anticipation as a thousand different sensations blazed to life at his touch. One long finger slid inside her, and she moaned at the unfamiliar, but amazing feeling.
His face inches from hers, Con pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Okay?”
“Better than…okay.”
He stroked, slow and deep, wringing another moan from her. His clever fingers moved in a devastating rhythm, sending shimmers up her spine. Another finger joined the first. A moment of pressure, a slight twinge, and then the delicious sensations