my mouth to his. His lips molded to mine, firm and confident. But he didn't go deeper, which surprised me. It was the type of kiss you'd give a guy on a first date, not a hook-up.
It wasn't until I ran the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip that the kiss went from searching to scorching.
His mouth opened and our tongues tangled. He tasted like vodka—strong, sharp, and intoxicating. I leaned further into him and his hands gripped my waist harder, plastering me to his body.
His heart was thundering beneath my palm and mine echoed it. Heat bloomed in my belly, spreading throughout my torso and shooting up my spine. God, the man could kiss.
The tips of his fingers slipped beneath my shirt, stroking the skin on my back where the waistband of my leggings hit. We were both breathing hard when he released my lips.
"I want to touch you," he whispered.
"Then, do it," I said, laying my mouth on his collarbone. I kissed his chest and then his neck, touching his skin with the tip of my tongue. His skin was hotter than before beneath my mouth and I felt the wild urge to take a bite out of him. I settled for nipping his throat with my teeth.
Ben groaned and spread his hands against my spine, running them up my back. My shirt rose with his movements so I grabbed the hem and yanked it off. I wanted it out of the way because I was burning with the need to be touched.
My bra wasn't anything special, just smooth black material that cupped my breasts. I was too busty for pretty bras because they often weren't supportive enough.
But it was obvious that Ben didn't give a damn about the type of bra I wore because his eyes were glued to my breasts. His hands had moved back to my waist when I took off my shirt but they remained locked there as we looked at each other.
"I thought you wanted to touch me," I said as he continued to devour me with his eyes. I needed him to touch me. I craved it. I dropped my shirt to the floor and arched toward him.
"I'm enjoying the view."
"Then it's only fair that I get a view too." I slid my hands beneath his tee and ran them up his abdomen to his chest. His muscles were firm under seeking palms and I dug my fingers into his pectorals just a bit. Suddenly, I had an even stronger urge to bite him, this time on his pectoral. I wanted to mark him so that he would look at it and think of me.
What the heck was going on with me? I'd never felt quite this animalistic before.
I wasn't tall enough to take his shirt off without help, but Ben reached behind his head, grabbed the back of his tee, and pulled it off. I had only ever seen men do that in movies but it was fucking hot in real life.
Still, it was nothing in comparison to the sight of his body. He wasn't joking when he said he worked out most mornings because he was built like an athlete. His upper body was a work of art, not only the shape and cut of his muscles but his tattoos as well.
"I don't know where to start," I muttered. Then, I clamped my mouth shut because I really hadn't meant to say that.
Ben took my hand from his waist and pressed it to his stomach. "Wherever you want."
Oh, that was a dangerous offer.
I lifted both hands to his shoulders and ran my palms down over his chest. My thumbs brushed his nipples and he inhaled sharply. Hmmm, he was sensitive there.
I moved my left hand to his shoulder once again and ran it down his arm, studying the tattoo I'd only gotten a peek of earlier. The design started at the bottom of his pectoral, extending up and over the top of his shoulder and down his arm to stop high on his forearm, just below the bend of his elbow.
It was an incredible piece of interlocking gears and mechanical structure. As I looked further, I realized that the beams followed the lines of his skeleton and the gears were in the shape of his muscles.
I traced my tongue over the line of one of the mechanical ribs and Ben shuddered against me.
Suddenly, my feet left the floor and Ben carried me over to the bed.