hall, through the door, and dropping her onto the mattress.
He stopped only to step out of his shoes, to tug hers off her feet, but that was long enough to notice the bedspread. A grin stretched his lips. “Purple.”
“Told you it’s my favorite.”
“Guess you weren’t lying.”
She crooked a finger, beckoning him closer when all he wanted to do was look his fill of this sexy woman before stripping her bare. But . . . he knew he had no hope of denying her anything, and so Jaime closed the distance between them, crawling up the mattress, reveling in how fucking good it felt to have her beneath him.
“What is it, Red?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her throat, her jaw, the space behind her ear.
Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his ear and whispered. “I have purple other places, too.”
Desire burned a trail down his spine, made his cock somehow get even harder.
But all he said was, “Yeah?”
A leg around his hip, a gorgeous smile on that kissable mouth. She took his hand, pressed it to her breast. “Yes.” Slid it down the soft curves of her stomach, stopped just above the button of her jeans. “And yes.”
His vision hazed, his fingers flicked open the button, then paused. “You sure, Red?”
“God, I like you,” she said.
“Kate, I like you, too,” he said. “In fact, I lo—”
Then she kissed him, cutting off his sentence. Which was probably for the best, because he knew he needed to remember that patience, knew they’d made big steps, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.
Breaking away when his lungs screamed for air, he reached for her, but she batted his hand away, grabbed the hem of her sweater and shimmied it up and over her head,
And . . . Jaime had no words.
She was pale skin and amethyst lace. She was lithe, feminine curves. She was his every fantasy come to life. Freckles dotted her abdomen, her chest like a complicated roadmap that he was absolutely desperate to taste, to trace with his tongue. He wanted to chart every mark, to worship every inch.
Then she took his hand and brought it back to the top of her jeans. “Now, baby. Please.”
There was no denying her anything.
He undid the zipper.
“Fuck, Red.” Because there was more purple lace, the softest abrasion against his fingertips, damp heat radiating through the fabric, coating his skin. His mouth watered, remembering the taste.
They hadn’t had dessert.
Well, he wanted it now.
Pushing off of her, he snagged her jeans at her ankles, tugged the fabric off her legs. A quick jerk had her panties going by the wayside, and a heartbeat later, he was between her thighs, that fucking glorious pink pussy an inch away from his tongue.
He didn’t wait, didn’t tease.
He licked her up and down, suckled on her clit, exactly as she liked. She’d been wet before he touched her, and the caress of his tongue, the pressure on the bundle of nerves had her moaning, moisture pooling. She was sweet with a hint of tart and by far the best dessert of his life. But as good as she tasted, he wanted her coming on his mouth, wanted her limp with pleasure, her eyes heavy and hooded.
So, he got to work.
One finger circling the entrance to her body, dipping inside, his tongue alternating between circling and pressing firmly. He showed no mercy. Instead, he used what he’d learned the other night and put it to pitiless use.
Not that she seemed to mind.
Her fingers wove into his hair, holding his mouth tightly against her as her hips bucked and ground and she rode his face.
It didn’t take long for her to throw her head back, for her to cry out his name as she broke apart around him, pussy convulsing on his finger, liquid drenching his tongue, every muscle in her body going absolutely tense for one long moment.
Then she melted.
Fingers releasing his hair, arms falling limply to the mattress, eyes shut, chest heaving.
“Damn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I didn’t even get to your glorious breasts yet.”
Her eyes slit open, warm pools of heated whiskey.
And then she laughed, a hot, breathy sound. “I don’t know if I can handle you getting”—she did a limp attempt of one-handed air quotes—“to my breasts.”
He kissed her navel, nipped at her hip, her bottom rib, flicked his tongue over the tiny silver charm hanging in the middle of that purple bra. “I think I