of her life. Because the man made love to her mouth, taking his time and seeming to savor every second, in no rush to move on until he’d had his fill. She sank into the kiss, letting it sweep her away as nothing else had in the last three days. This. This was why she was here. She’d never let herself go like this with another man—though she was hardly a virgin—but she and Teague were in this together, for better or worse.
He nipped her bottom lip, the shock slamming her back into the present. “You’re thinking too much, angel.”
“I don’t know how to stop.”
He lifted his head and grinned down at her, the wolfish expression threatening to curl her toes. “I can think of a few ways.”
Yes, yes, yes. This was what she’d come here wanting. Needing. She licked her lips. “I like the sound of that.”
“I thought you might.” He stepped back and drank her entire body in with a single glance. She resisted the urge to smooth her hand down the dress she’d picked out with seduction in mind—the hem hitting halfway down her thighs and the neckline offering up her breasts for temptation. The perfect little black dress. With the way his gaze lingered on her chest and legs, she was suddenly glad she’d chosen it.
Teague stroked a hand up her side, stopping at her ribs and running his thumb along the underside of her breast. “It kills me that every time I’ve seen you, you’re never wearing a bra.”
Normally she did, but the memory of his strangled curse that first night when he found her without one was enough to drive her to leave that part of her wardrobe out when she knew she was going to see him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He dragged the straps of her dress over her shoulders and down, baring her from the waist up. “Fuck, I’m not even a little bit sorry when this is all it takes to be able to see you.”
Heat built under her skin as he cupped her breasts, his big hands playing over them with surprising gentleness. She held her breath, trying to keep in the moan building in her chest. The man touched her like she was breakable and utterly priceless. It was a far cry from the way he’d driven her out of her mind in the back of her SUV, and the contrast only made her hotter. Because this man had both sides in him—the feral beast and the poet.
How was she supposed to keep her emotional distance when she never knew which one would come to the fore?
He went to his knees and dragged her dress the rest of the way off, leaving her in only a pair of red panties. Teague’s harsh exhale was music to her ears. He helped her step out of the dress and then tossed it to the side, sitting back on his heels. He was tall enough that it put his line of sight directly with her panties, and he didn’t seem interested in moving.
Callie shifted, trying not to clench her thighs together. She’d never had a man look at her like that—it was foreplay all on its own. Her hands fell to the sides of her panties, ready to shove them down her legs to join her dress, but he stopped her. “Not yet.”
He waited for her to move her hands to use his grip on her hips to bring her a step closer. “I’ve been thinking about that night a lot.”
She didn’t have to ask what night he was talking about, because she’d been thinking about it, too. “Me too.”
His breath ghosted the skin directly below her belly button. “Have you touched yourself while thinking about me, angel?”
It was a question she never would have dreamed of answering under normal circumstances—except these were hardly normal. So she ran her fingers through his hair and nodded. “Yes.”
“Fuck, I love hearing that.” His eyes slid shut and he hummed in pleasure. “And while you were touching yourself, what were you fantasizing about?”
The apartment seemed to heat ten degrees while she fought against her instinctive response to beg off. If she told him what she’d fantasized about, would he do it to her? The desire for that was far stronger than any embarrassment she might have felt saying the forbidden words aloud. “You. Your mouth on me.” She hissed out a breath when he kissed the sensitive skin just below her belly button. “Your…hands.” His