to say “make love to me” instead, but nice southern girls don’t start it. By God, they always finish it though. As sure as the sun shines, I’ll finish whatever Stone starts.
Stone laughs, a panty soaking, manly sound, and places a wet kiss on the center of my neck, my hair still locked in his grip. The rest of my body, or the parts that weren’t affected by his mere hands, buzzes to life at the introduction of his mouth and tongue. A small moan escapes when he presses his wet mouth directly below my ear, trailing his lips down to my collarbone and down the top of my cleavage. Historic divas with heaving bosoms have nothing on me right now—I can barely control my own responses to his touch. With a mind of their own, they just want more of him. All of him. I want his control. I want my own lack of control with him. I crave it.
He loosens his grip on my hair and I drop my chin to look at his face. Feral eyes glinting in the moonlight, he looks at me, one feature at a time like he’s deciding what to devour first. He’s out of control. I’ve never seen this look and I know exactly what it means. Sex. Finally. After all of this sexual tension we are going to have mind-blowing sex. And it is going to be the best sex of my whole life. I don’t even have to experience it to know it’s a fact.
I lick my bottom lip when I watch his gaze dart to my mouth. “What’s on your mind, Stone?” My placement on his lap is such that I can feel him pulsing against me. I rub myself against him again, leaning toward his mouth, and press my lips firmly against his. His large hand wraps around the back of my neck as he clutches me against him, not letting me back away a centimeter.
Our teeth meet when he says, “I’m thinking if I have your permission I want to take you to my bedroom and do all sorts of things with you.”
I smile against his mouth. “What makes you think you need my permission? Is that what you’ve waited for all this time?” I ask, my lips molding into his kiss the second I stop speaking.
He breaks away, grabs my chin to direct my gaze to his. “Once we have sex that’s it, Morganna. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I know exactly what I want. It’s a life with you in it. Always.” Remember what I said about the man knowing what he wants? There’s no backpedaling with him, so his words hit me square in the heart. That’s it. Our future might as well be set in stone. Knowing he’ll want more than a non-verbal response, I try to formulate just the right answer.
In the end I keep it simple. Two words that tell him everything. “Permission granted,” I whisper, running my hands down his tightly coiled arms. He doesn’t waste any time. Standing up, me wrapped around him like a clothing article, he lumbers at a fast pace down a small, blank hallway to his bedroom. I place a wet kiss on his neck as he slides my body down his until my bare feet reach the carpet. Backing a few steps I feel his bed behind me and sit. Stone’s fiery brown eyes haven’t left me since I moved away. His chest heaves several times in the span of one of my heartbeats.
A heartbeat that now resides in my throat, because I’m scared. Obviously not of sex; I’m scared because I don’t know what I’m missing at this point. I’m willing to bet in an hour I’ll have a new favorite activity and another reason to stay in San Diego. In the same breath, I decide that it’s okay because I have feelings for Stone. If I’m being honest with myself, I love him.
Stone grabs the neck of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one fluid movement, tossing it on the floor. That’s the first sign that he means business. The second is when he drops his pants and boxer briefs the next moment, like he can’t stand to wear clothing another second. In two strides he’s in front of me, his shaft positioned directly in front of my face.
I swallow loudly. “I knew you packed heat, but I guess I wasn’t aware of the caliber,” I admit,