Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,199

the possessiveness in his voice and the hunger in his eyes. I’d never felt so wanted, in every way, in my life.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Sawyer….”

His mouth on mine was everything, an ecstasy of taste and sensation. But then his hands slipped from my face, needing my body. He stripped off my shirt, and my hair fell down around my shoulders, above my naked breasts.

“Beautiful,” he said, trailing kisses down my neck as he took one small breast in each hand. “So beautiful.”

I fit perfectly in his palms, and my eyes fell shut when his mouth went to one nipple, sucking and teasing. His hair on my bare skin sent shivers up my shoulders, and I raked my hand through his blond curls. His mouth worked over the other nipple. Electric currents fanned across my chest and down my back, over my spine.

I lifted his shirt off the moment he came up for air, and gaped at his body.

“Jesus, Sawyer,” I said, trailing my fingers across the smooth planes of his pecs, down to the hard lines of his abdomen. “Hastings has a gym, I see.”

I didn’t wait for an answer, but took my turn putting my mouth on one small nipple, biting and nipping, and reveling in the masculine sounds I elicited from him, while my hands slid up and down the hard muscles in his back.

My mouth trailed its way up his chest, his throat, to kiss him again.

“I’m obsessed with your mouth,” I told him, taking his lower lip in my teeth and grazing it softly.

“Darlene,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Turn around. Want to kiss you everywhere.”

I heard the restraint in his voice. If I weren’t hurt, he would have manhandled me into any position, and I would have let him; would have let his hands mold me however he wanted, because what he wanted was all of me.

I turned around, and he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me on to his lap, my back to his chest. I gasped at his first touch at the nape of my neck. His mouth was soft and wet, his breath hot, and I couldn’t contain the little moans that escaped me as he kissed and caressed me until I was writhing.

“Sawyer…” My head fell back. “What are you doing to me?”

“Exploring.”

“God…”

This wasn’t just sex or lust. It was him touching and tasting me, becoming acquainted with my body. Sawyer knew me—my heart that beat for him and my soul that understood him—and now he wanted to know my body. In the past, it had always been the sex I’d given first, never thinking a man would want me for much more, not right away, if ever. Sawyer took it last, and his every touch and kiss and desperate groan to have me was the completion of us, not the beginning.

“God, right here,” he whispered, his mouth trailing wetly between my shoulder blades while his hands came around my breasts, squeezing and pinching until I was half out of my mind. “I’ve had fantasies about kissing you here.”

“You have?” I breathed. My ass ground against his thighs, my body pressing itself into every place he touched me; a contortion of my dancer’s sinews and ligaments to be everywhere at once—on his lap, in his hands, against his mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, and everything tightened; his hands squeezed, and his teeth grazed my flesh. “I have to have you. Now. Are you ready for me?”

I nodded mutely, and bit back a cry as his hand slipped down, below my navel, and then under the hem of my thong. His fingers found me, rubbing a slow circle. I gasped and arched into his hand, and he went inside, two fingers delving into me.

“God, Darlene,” he hissed, scraping his teeth along my back. My hips bucked into his hand again and again. “So wet. I want you to come...”

He withdrew his hand and I gave a little cry at the loss. He stood me up and stripped my panties off, careful around my injured foot. He gently laid me on the bed, and then wasn’t careful at all as he put his mouth between my thighs. Ravenous.

“Ah, God,” I cried, one hand snaking into his hair, the other up and onto the headboard, holding on as his tongue swirled and then plunged, his groans adding vibrations of sensation. My hips undulated; I made a fist in his soft curls and pressed him harder as my legs