Thank God.
His hands drifted down my sides, my waist, my h*ps to come to rest on the tops of my thighs.
“By all means,” he murmured, my heart skipped, his eyes had gone hooded and now I was really in trouble.
Since I’d been really in trouble before like, lots, as usual, I just winged it.
And, anyway, his chest was right there. And I’d never really touched him before. He touched me but I’d never got the chance to have a go at him.
I took my chance.
I lifted up to straddling again and, using my fingertips, I explored. Drifting softly as my eyes followed my movements, I touched all the planes and angles of his chest, his abdomen, brushing my fingers across the top of the bedclothes under his navel.
I discovered he felt good. His skin was soft, his muscles hard. The angles fascinated me. The planes fascinated me more. I lost myself so much, it came as a surprise when he took in a sharp breath and his fingers tensed on my thighs as I ran the pad of my thumb across his nipple.
My eyes flew to his and his were intense, so intense they were blazing.
For the first time since I met him, I felt power.
And I liked it.
I liked it so much, I couldn’t stop my smile.
Totally forgetting my lingerie, I bent at the waist. I followed the trail my fingertips had made, this time with my mouth, often my tongue, tasting him.
His skin tasted just as delicious as his kisses.
My lips slid across his nipple then my tongue did the same then I swept the front edge of my teeth against it.
Suddenly, he knifed to sitting, his hands no longer at my thighs, they were yanking at the belt of my robe.
“I’m not done exploring,” I protested.
Looking in my eyes, he tugged the robe off my shoulders and tossed it aside. Then his hand fisted in my hair and he steered my mouth to his.
“You can explore all you want when we’re both naked.” His voice was a low, sexy rumble.
I had no chance to speak further. He kissed me, hungry, even needy, and demanding. So demanding it rocked me, my arms circled him for I had no choice but to hold on.
I was dazed, trembling and feeling ripples everywhere when his mouth tore from mine, he leaned a bit back, his hands at my camisole and he stilled.
Then, eyes on my middle, in what could only be described as a raw groan, he growled, “Jesus Leah.”
“What?” I breathed then I remembered and I stilled too.
Damn!
He didn’t like my naughty-girl undies.
His hand went into my hair, twisting and fisting and he used it to bring my face close to his.
His eyes were burning.
I quit breathing.
Then he ground out, “Leave it to you to wear something I want to f**k you in when I’ve been fantasizing for twenty years of f**king you wearing nothing at all.”
Okay, maybe I was wrong. One could say he liked the lingerie.