Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,181

won’t walk away without talking it out when you do.” She rested her forehead on his. “Are we done talking for now?”

His hands began their restless journey up and down her thighs again. “Why?”

“Because I’ve dreamed of kissing you since I was seventeen years old and I haven’t had nearly enough.”

“Do I get to do what I dreamed of, too?” Because now that he’d broken down the compartment walls, he was remembering all of the fantasies he’d had to bury deep in his mind.

Bury deep. He shuddered at the images the words conjured, fantasies rushing to fill his mind.

It was like he was twenty years old again, and the feeling was intoxicating. I can do all the things now. I don’t have to pretend.

She smiled against his lips. “That seems fair.” Then she half laughed, half shrieked when he reared up and tumbled her to her back, coming to rest on top of her. Her legs parted for him and his body twitched, needing to thrust.

They’d do that, but for this moment, he’d feast on her mouth. She wanted to be courted. “I won’t rush. We’ll take this slow.”

“Not too slow.” Her fingers clenched in his shirt and jerked it free of his trousers before freeing the remaining buttons. She slid her palms up his torso, humming appreciatively. “Take it off. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Skin tingling everywhere she touched, he pushed to his knees and shrugged out of the shirt. He started to lower himself back onto her, but she sat up, hands reaching for him.

“Let me look,” she whispered. “Just let me look.”

She didn’t only look, though. Her hands got busy, stroking his pecs and down his sides. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back, letting himself float as she touched every inch of his torso.

His eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath when she pressed her lips to his stomach, millimeters from his waistband. Every nerve in his body sang and his cock grew harder when he hadn’t thought it possible.

She glanced up. “Ticklish?”

“No.” He was breathing hard. “You make it hard to stay in control.”

“Good.” She kissed him again, but this time her tongue stole out to lick the skin she’d kissed.

He hissed. “Liza.”

Another glance up, her brown eyes gone dark and needy. Then she shocked him by leaning forward, her mouth so close to his groin that he could feel her warm breath when she exhaled. “What if I don’t want you to stay in control?”

“Liza,” he warned. And then she inhaled, making a needy noise that severed whatever discipline he’d still possessed. “Fuck,” he growled, pushing her to the sofa and following her down. He claimed her mouth, taking what he needed, and he wasn’t gentle.

She shoved her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer, reminding him that his Liza was strong. He needed more, needed to touch her, needed to see her. Needed to be inside her.

He tugged her shirt up, feeling the silky skin of her stomach. She shivered, wriggling beneath him.

“Ticklish?” he asked, loving the way her cheeks were flushed, her eyes gone dark with lust.

“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you ever want to do any of those things you dreamed of, you won’t take advantage of that confession.”

Tom slid down her torso so that he could kiss the skin he’d bared. “Sorry,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her ribs, then upward, taking his time, smiling as her skin pebbled. Until she made another needy whimpering sound.

His kisses became openmouthed and urgent, his hips rolling and thrusting against the sofa cushions when he really needed to be rolling and thrusting into her. He shoved the hem of her shirt higher, going stock-still when he uncovered her bra.

He looked up to meet her eyes. She was watching him, her torso still. She was holding her breath. “I want to see you,” he said hoarsely. “Can I see you?”

“Yes. Please.”

He might have chuckled at her politeness, but she reached behind her to unhook her bra, and then he couldn’t breathe, either. Crossing her arms, she gripped the hem of her shirt and the bra together and pulled them off.

It took him a few heartbeats to find words. “You’re beautiful.”

Her lips curved self-consciously, but she said nothing.

He hung there, staring, torn between the urge to rush and take and taste and suck and the more overwhelming need to take his time. Carefully, reverently, he kissed the valley between her breasts and drew in her scent.

God. The delicate citrus