flush. Her cheeks and chest were tinted with pink, and the look on her face…bloody hell.
It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Maybe that was why he was hard enough to drill nails. Or perhaps it was more to do with the way she’d tugged at his shirt, hanging on for dear life like his kiss was the only thing keeping her afloat.
She looked like a mermaid who’d washed up on shore, magical and impossibly beautiful.
Cora’s beauty came from something inside her. Sure, she had a great body and a sweet face and a smile that could power a city, but it was her spirit that called to Trent. There was something inside her, like a treasure, that drew him close, that called on him to look deeper.
And he was never the kind of guy who looked beyond. Who wanted more than the surface-level stuff. Never the guy who connected with people because connection meant trusting that they wouldn’t knife you in the back.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” she said with a shy smile, ducking her eyes for a moment before flashing those icy blues back at him.
He kissed her again, slower this time. Gentler. And when she responded without hesitation, Trent was filled with a roaring pride. It was a lion in his chest, a king desperate to conquer. To take. He kissed down to her neck, sucking in the honeyed floral scent on her skin and letting the curling tendrils of hair tickle his face.
He could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the delicate skin on her neck, and the soft little sigh that escaped her lips when he kissed her there was like a sound bite from heaven.
“Are we forgetting about dinner?” he asked, thumbing the strap of her dress and trailing his lips along her collarbone.
“What is this word, ‘dinner?’” she mumbled, letting her head roll back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Good answer.” He tugged the strap down over her shoulder. It was thin and delicate, so its removal didn’t really add to Cora’s nakedness at all. But for some reason, seeing the smooth curve of her shoulder, uninterrupted, freckles free for him to trace with his tongue, churned him up inside.
He pushed the other strap down and then moved to the line of buttons at her front. The shiny white discs popped easily out of the holes and he peeled the fabric away from her chest. As he’d suspected, she wore no bra underneath. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, cleavage tempting him closer. More buttons were opened, more skin revealed.
“My God,” he muttered. There was nothing else he could say and clearly not enough blood left in his brain to be able to fully operate it.
Cora’s breasts were perfection. Her nipples were peaked and begging for his attention. They were the prettiest shade of pink, and when he palmed her, swiping a thumb across one stiff nub, she shuddered. He felt the vibration of it all the way through him, and his erection strained against the fly of his jeans. If he got any harder, he wasn’t certain his fly would survive it.
“I want to keep kissing you,” he murmured, rubbing his palm in slow circles. “Everywhere.”
Her fingers threaded into the hair at the back of his head, and she guided him to her breast. No words. Just showing him what she wanted.
His tongue darted out to swipe over her and she gasped, her hands curling and nails scraping over his scalp. Yes. He wanted to worship her. Learn her. When he sucked a hard nipple between his lips, tongue flicking, Cora moaned and the sound shot right through him, coiling every muscle in his body.
“Yes.” The word was like a hiss of steam, sharp and yet soft. And so hot. She clung to him, the weight of her body in his lap like sweet, sweet torture.
“Sensitive,” he murmured, nuzzling her other breast. “Just the lightest little flick…” He swiped his tongue and she arched against him, like a puppet on the end of his strings. “And you’re about to boil over.”
Her cheeks were flushed as pink as the sunset outside, which was sending rose gold light spilling into the house through the large windows facing the back. It brought out the golden highlights in her hair and the warmth in her skin. She bit down on her lip.
“This, uh… I don’t usually rush ahead like this,” she said, ducking her eyes. “Three date minimum, that’s the rule.”