His kiss was not wild and abandoned. It was soft, sweet but still deep. He was starting slowly and I went with him, my hands moving on his skin, retracing their path from earlier, memorizing the feel of him, loving every inch.
His hands moved on me too, down my sides, a light touch that was still somehow firm and definitely warm. Or, at least, it warmed me.
As his hands moved up after going down, his mouth slid to my ear and he whispered, “What’re you wearin’, baby?”
“I, uh… came prepared,” I whispered back, felt him smile against my neck then his tongue ran the length of it as his hands slid back down the silk of my nightie.
I shivered.
Chace’s mouth came back to mine.
More slow, sweet kisses. More lazy, unhurried stroking. Then his mouth moved back to the side of my neck, worked there and I liked that. God, it felt beautiful. It moved to my throat, down and his tongue dipped into the dent at the middle of my collarbone. Something about that felt so sweet but so decadent, it quivered through me and I shifted restlessly under him.
Slowly, his mouth moved back up my neck as his hand moved to span my ribs.
When his lips hit mine, he asked quietly, “More?”
“Yeah,” I answered quietly back.
His hand moved up and cupped my breast.
My mouth moved before I told it to and this was to murmur, “Oh yeah.”
His thumb slid over my nipple.
My hands stopped drifting and my arms closed around him.
His mouth took mine in another kiss, not as slow, not as lazy, more heated, more demanding.
I gave. My tongue moving against his as Chace’s hand slid down, under the hem of my nightie and up. Then it was skin against skin, cupping my breast, his thumb doing a swipe.
God, even more beautiful. Perfect. My back arched slightly to press into his hand, he growled into my mouth and the kiss got even more heated and demanding.
I kept giving, my hands moving on him again, faster, covering more ground, one moved down over his behind.
Chace’s thumb stopped swiping, his finger met his thumb and he rolled.
Oh God, that felt great. So fraking great, my hand clenched his behind, I tore my mouth from his, shoved my face in his throat and whimpered.
Chace’s voice was thick, hoarse when he asked, “More?”
“Yes,” I breathed then, “You.”
“What?”
“What do I do for you?”
I felt his neck bend and in my ear he asked, “You trust me?”
“Absolutely,” I whispered my answer instantly.
“Christ, baby,” he whispered back then, “Follow me.”
I didn’t know what he meant until his hand moved out of my nightie. It found my arm, pulled it from around him, slid down and took my hand. Then he moved my hand to his side, in, over his ribs, across the ridges of his belly and down.
I held my breath.
Chace felt it and I knew this when he murmured, “Breathe, baby.”