Indecent Suggestion - By Elizabeth Bevarly Page 0,55

a moment, Turner smiled, the sort of smile that let her know he had indeed found the answer he had been seeking.

“Then take me, Becca,” he told her, pulling her against him. “Take me every way you know how.”

But it was Turner who did the taking after that, covering Becca’s mouth with his once again. And as he thrust his tongue deep inside her, something hot and frantic splashed through her midsection. She moved her hand from his hair to curl her fingers over his warm nape, and lost herself in his kiss. He responded by pressing his hand more insistently against her back and moving his mouth from hers to brush his lips over her jaw and her cheek and her chin, then nuzzling the sensitive flesh where her throat joined her collarbone before skimming his lips along her shoulder.

“You taste sweet,” he said as he pulled his head up and gazed down into her eyes, echoing her own earlier thoughts about him. He smiled. “But there’s something kind of spicy in there, too.”

She chuckled low. “I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she said.

He stroked the pads of his fingers over her face, lightly tracing her lower lip and chin, then up along her jaw and cheekbone, then down again, over the sensitive skin of her throat. But his smile fell some as he moved his hand lower still, over the scooped neck of her dress, a caress that made her heart pound against her breastbone in anticipation. Instead of closing his hand over her breast, though, as she had expected he would do, he raised it back up to her face, as if he wanted to drag out the excitement for as long as he could. When he curled his fingers slightly and turned his hand to brush his knuckles tenderly across her cheek, Becca’s eyes fluttered closed. A sharp heat sped through her with each gentle stroke, searing her to her very core.

More, she thought feverishly. She wanted—needed—more from him. More of him. His careful caresses somehow only enflamed her, sparking a hunger inside her she knew wouldn’t easily be appeased. Touching him wasn’t enough. But with Turner, she never would get enough.

She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smoky, musky, masculine scent of him. No namby-pamby department store fragrances for Turner, no way. He smelled of pure, unadulterated man, and the woman inside Becca responded in kind. Instinctively, she arched her body against him to better experience his heat, and his desire, and his hunger and him. And still it wasn’t close enough for her. She wanted—needed—so much more.

As if he’d read her mind, Turner leaned forward and kissed her, and Becca opened to him enthusiastically. She dipped the fingers of one hand inside the opening of his shirt, skimming her fingertips over the dark springy hair she encountered there. As he deepened the kiss, he pressed his body fully against hers, then began to move forward, urging her to move backward, in the direction of her bedroom.

As they completed their slow dance, they went to work on each other’s clothes. Turner found the zipper of her dress and tugged it downward, past her waist and over her hips, pulling open the fabric when he finished the journey and splaying his warm hands over her bare flesh. Becca, in turn, freed his shirttail from his trousers and unfastened every button, opening her palms over the coarse hair on his chest and torso, raking her fingertips over the ridge of every muscle.

She wasn’t sure how long it took them to reach her bedroom, but at some point, her legs connected with the edge of her bed. By that time, her bra was gone and her dress was down around her waist, and Turner’s jacket and shirt had been discarded. Between kisses, they managed to pull the covers back, and then down, down, down Becca fell, until she felt the cool kiss of the cotton sheet against her naked back. Turner fell with her, and she looped one arm around his neck and the other across his back while he, in turn, arced one arm over her head and settled his body alongside her own. Then he bent his head and kissed her again, long and hard and deep.

She growled something needy and incoherent in reply, clinging to him, and he responded with a sound that echoed her own hunger, pushing himself half on top of her. Then he insinuated one leg between hers,