"The bedroom." Her voice was husky, vibrating with desire. As he entered the bedroom, the automatic lights eased on, a low, dim lighting that shadowed the room and kept the intimate atmosphere he enjoyed.
He closed the door behind them, turning to her and giving her no time to voice whatever she was going to say. He wanted no objections, couldn't bear to hear her hesitation. He wanted her soft and sweet against him again, her tongue licking over his like a little cat's, the taste of her, that wild honeysuckle and clover taste overwhelming his senses as it had earlier.
His lips settled against hers as he fought to hold back his lust. His hands pulled her to him, fitting her slender curves into his taller body, his arms crossing over her back as he sipped from her lips, deep, drugging kisses that only served to further inflame the need. She was slender beneath his hands, smaller, more delicate than she appeared. But he could feel the strength in her.
Sharp little nails pricked through his shirt as her fingers clenched against him. A tight groan escaped him as her thighs moved against his, the firm planes of her abdomen cushioning the raging length of his cock. Slanting his lips over hers, he worked his tongue into her mouth, seeking the soft slide of hers and the elixir of passion that seemed to fill her mouth.
Damn, she tasted good. Her tongue twined with his, spilling sweet honey into his senses, the taste burning through his mind like an aphrodisiac.
"Come here." His hands cupped her ass. Fully curved, firm—his fingers clenched into them as he lifted her to him, groaning as her legs curved around his hips, the soft pad of her pu**y cushioning his erection.
"You're like fire." He nipped at her lips as he moved her to the bed, laying her beneath him. "So sweet and hot I could lose my mind in you."
He was losing his mind in her. His fingers moved to her shirt, fumbling, as he drew it over her head, revealing the lace of her bra, her heaving br**sts, before he tossed it aside.
No woman had ever affected him like this, had ever made him burn, made every cell in his body ache and throb for her touch, her taste. She was so damned feminine, so soft and warm, yet firm and resilient, that he had to clench his teeth from howling with his need for her.
And she watched him, her hands falling to her sides, the sea green of her eyes blazing with passion and confusion.
He removed her shoes, the functional white socks. Her feet were slender, delicate, the high arch and painted little toenails so sweet he grimaced at the sight. There was nothing like a woman—softly scented, lightly colored, with all their makeup tricks and confident resourcefulness that turned a man inside out. They were weak, yet the strongest force on the face of the earth. And this woman would quickly become his world. He felt it. Knew it with every fiber of his being.
She wore only the bare minimum of makeup, enough to enhance rather than cover up, but it was the scarlet shade of those little toenails that pushed him over the edge. She pampered those feet. Babied them. They were as soft as silk, perfectly trimmed and pedicured, and they shimmered with beauty.
He lifted one, watching her as he placed the arch against his whisker-roughened cheek, feeling the silken touch as her toes curled and surprise lit her eyes. He turned his head, lowering it, then nipped at the curve of her big toe before licking over it with utmost gentleness.
Her eyes flared, shock and something akin to fear filling them.
"You have pretty feet." He massaged it for a moment before releasing her. She swallowed, opened her lips to speak, then bit the lower curve as his fingers moved to her jeans. The snap and zipper released quickly. Her h*ps lifted as he eased the fabric over them, sliding them down her thighs, his fingers touching sweet satin flesh as the material cleared her legs.
She reached for him then, her hands shaking, a small, almost imperceptible moan on her lips.
"Not yet." He pushed her hands back to the bed. "Wait, baby. Let me touch you. If you get those hot little hands on me first, I'm going to lose control and f**k you until neither one of us has the strength to worry about foreplay. Just lie there. Just for a bit."
"I need to touch you." The words sounded torn from her, though she did as he asked, her fingers curling into fists as they lay at her head.
"And I need you to touch me," he admitted, fighting to clear the haze of lust from his mind. "Just not yet."
He moved back, his eyes going over the sight of her. The fragile lace of her bra that did nothing to hide her tight ni**les. Her flat, tanned abdomen and the delicate white silk of her thong, the material damp enough to outline the soft curves of her pu**y. He breathed out. A rough exhalation at the knowledge that beneath the fragile silk lay bare flesh. Her sweet juices had dampened the fabric just enough to see that no feminine curls marred the luscious curves.
"Do you shave?" He jerked his boots off, unable to look away from the damp silk.
"No. Wax." She sounded uncomfortable.
He looked up, flashing her a grin of approval as the last boot dropped to the floor. He jerked his shirt over his head, not bothering with buttons, then tore at his belt before jerking the snaps of his jeans apart. His dick was killing him. He was harder, hotter than he could ever remember being in his life.
"I'm going to eat that pretty pu**y," he whispered as he shed jeans and underwear in one economical move. "I'm going to spread your legs and gorge myself on you. I bet that honeysuckle taste is there too. I like honeysuckle, Harmony. I like it real well." He wrapped his fingers around his erection, his eyes returning to hers, a tight smile curving his lips at the erotic flush covering her face, her neck. Her lips were parted, shiny from the dampness of her tongue. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and filled with shocked hunger.
He should be shocked himself. He had never been this damned hot, this hard for a woman in his life. He reached over to the nightstand, jerking a condom from the drawer and quickly tearing apart the wrapper. If he didn't do it now, he wouldn't have enough mind to do it later.
He extended his hand to her then, the latex circle gripped lightly between his fingers. He couldn't make himself say the words. If he spoke, he was going to scare the hell out of her and himself with the animalistic growl in his throat.
She looked at the condom.
"I'm protected. And I'm clean," she said.
His c**k jerked at the soft sound of her voice, the knowledge that he could sink into her, bare, feel her touching him, wrapping around him.
He shook his head. "No one can be sure, baby. Come on. Touch me now." Amusement flickered in her gaze, some hidden knowledge he hoped he could remember to delve into further. Then she was rising, sitting before him, her face level with the straining length of his cock.