Bad Engagement (Billionaire's Club #10) - Elise Faber Page 0,48

called them glorious breasts,” he said. “And I’d disagree. I think you can handle anything I dish out.” He slipped his finger under the elastic band, traced left and right, the barest brush to those luscious curves.

“Wish”—he slid higher, grazed a nipple—“ful thinking.”

“Mmm.” He sucked one hard point through the lace. “No, Red, it’s not.” He reached beneath her, flicked open the clasp and peeled the fabric away. “I know you can handle anything I throw your way.”

Her eyes locked with his, her hand came up, fingers lacing through his hair.

Then she smiled. “I think I can, too.”

And Jaime felt like fucking Superman.

He tossed the bra to the side, slanted his lips across hers and poured every ounce of love he had for this woman into the kiss. She was incredible, and he wanted her to know it, to pour her generosity back into her, to touch and hold and please her as she deserved.

He slid his hand up her side, cupped the soft globe of her breast, massaging the tissue gently before he tore his lips from hers and moved down her body to suckle her nipple deeply.

Those fingers tightened in his hair, her hips bucked, and she moaned loudly.

A moment later, however, she was pushing him away.

“I’m—”

“Get naked,” she demanded. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Jaime paused, considered that, but since he wanted to feel her, too, since he wasn’t opposed to all that silken skin rubbing against him, he obliged, pushing off her, yanking his T-shirt over his head, stepping out of his pants.

But when he would have left on his boxer briefs, she stopped him with a foot to his chest.

“No, baby,” she said, reaching over her shoulder and tugging a condom out of the nightstand. “I want all your skin.”

Sparks of desire prickled down his spine, through his fingertips. He clenched his jaw until it throbbed, grasping for control, but he was desperate to feel some of the molten heat he’d had on his tongue spread out on his cock, coating the skin as he sank deep again and again and again.

Slow. Steady.

Her foot dropped. Her fingers wrapped around his cock. She sat up and . . . he felt a different kind of heat. Her lips closed over him, tongue stroking from base to tip.

And he forgot all about slow and steady.

He forgot all about anything except how good it felt to be in her mouth.

She squeezed tight, hand following the path of her tongue. Once. Twice.

His control splintered. He plucked her off him, tossed her back against the pillows, and he kissed her while stroking every inch of her he could reach. Caressing her breasts, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger, stroking over her waist, her hips, slipping his hand down into the damp heat, teasing her clit until she writhed against him in feminine complaint.

“Now!” she gasped, pulling her mouth away and grabbing for the condom, all but shoving it against his chest.

One more stroke of that bundle of nerves. One more breathless moan.

And he took the condom, tore it open with his teeth, rolled it down the length of his cock. He shifted, positioned himself over her, and then stopped, met those gorgeous whiskey eyes. “Yes?”

Her face went soft. Her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him closer. “Yes, baby.”

Jaime slid home.

Nothing had ever felt more right. He pushed in, bottoming out, feeling her clench tight around him, and he knew there would never be anyone else. That this woman had been built solely for him and he solely for her.

He pulled out slowly and moved back in, finding the rhythm she liked, gauging every moan and movement and flicker in those warm eyes.

He used that knowledge ruthlessly, not stopping until her breathing faltered again, until her fingers clenched, and her hips met his stroke for stroke. And still he moved, disciplined in that rhythm, needing to feel her break apart around him so that he could gather up the pieces and glue them back together.

Her head fell back, her legs convulsed, a moan rent the air.

Jaime lost his discipline. He lost everything except the feelings of the moment, of moving in and out, of tight and hot, of Kate wrapped around every inch of him.

Fire licked over his skin.

Desire pooled in his stomach.

His muscles clenched. His nerves were ablaze.

One thrust. Another. He exploded.

Pieces of him scattered every which way, but she was there. She held them tight as he flew right over the edge and shattered