She hadn’t noticed the rough rasp of his tongue as he kissed her. Not this time, not the time before.
But as he licked her nipple like a favored treat, she felt it.
Not as rough as a cat’s tongue, just a hint of an unusual raspiness over the painfully hard tip that had the hunger for more suddenly tearing through her.
“Navarro. Again.” She wanted that lick. She wanted the feel of that roughness against her nipple one more time.
He licked again. Slow, easy, his tongue rubbing against the nerve-laden flesh as the muscles in her stomach tightened and her clit began to throb furiously.
As she arched against his mouth, the press of the steel-hard contour of his thigh inserting itself caused her teeth to clench.
To hold back the pleas.
She wanted to beg him to suck her nipple.
God, would begging help? Would he just do it then? Just part his lips and suck her inside . . .
“Oh yes.” The hiss should have shocked her. She was certain it would later, once the cold light of day and reality intruded upon her once again.
For now, there was only the most exquisite pleasure in the world.
Looking down, she watched. She couldn’t help but watch. His black eyes stared up at her, narrowed and glittering with sexual heat as his lips parted and covered the small bud.
A shudder rippled through her body as her fingers clenched in his hair tighter, holding him to her as his tongue swiped over the tip and he began to suck.
“Navarro. Oh God. Yes. Suck me. Suck me harder.”
Where had those desperate words come from? The plea, filled with desperation, couldn’t have been more shocking. But still, it wasn’t shocking enough to pull her out of the heated maelstrom she was being drawn into. A vortex of incredible rapture she was loath to lose.
She couldn’t lose it. She wanted more and more.
The feel of his tongue stroking over her nipple with quick little licks had sharp flares of sensation shooting to her womb. His thigh pressed harder against the swollen flesh of her pu**y, the hard muscle clenching, the tiny flex against her clit spiking the pleasure rushing through her.
More. She just wanted more.
A throttled groan rasped in his chest as she felt his hand stroking from the curve of her breast to her hip. Sucking her nipple deeper, harder, lighting flares of explosive through each nerve ending, he let his fingers caress from her hip to her thigh.
Mica froze. She could feel it. The threat of a growing, out-of-control rush of sensations began to build inside her.
She could feel it. It was an unending crash and surge of pleasure so intense there was no hope of escaping. No hope of wanting to escape.
Hell no, she wanted more.
“No. Don’t stop.” She jerked in his arms as his head lifted, his expression so sexually tight now that she wondered why she wasn’t feeling fear.
She should be damned scared. She should be fighting tooth and nail to make herself jerk out of his embrace.
She didn’t want a broken heart.
She didn’t need a broken heart.
“Navarro.” She moaned his name again as she felt his hand stroke to her thigh, his fingertips, calloused and heated, caressing over her sensitive flesh as his hand drew closer to the saturated folds of her pu**y.
Oh God, she was so wet. She could feel the slick wetness beginning to spread to her inner thighs.
Slick. Hot.
And if he didn’t touch her soon, if he didn’t do something, anything to ease the ache, then she just might not be able to survive it.