Book 13 - Page 65 (1/2)
“Hmm,” Tom responded, his hands slipping all over her back, sliding the soft wool sweater against her skin. His warm hands slid up her sweater, his fingers pausing at her bra. He smiled. “Did you find it in my room?”
“I had to look a bit. It was tucked away in your underwear drawer between two pairs of black briefs.”
“See how I even share my drawers with you?”
She smiled and rubbed her body against his, loving the feel of his c.o.c.k coming to life, firm, ready. “I love how much you share every bit of you with me.”
That earned her a smile. He leaned down and nuzzled his face against her cheek, lower until he could kiss her neck, her throat, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. At the same time, his fingers unfastened her bra at the back. When he straightened, she pressed harder against his erection, wanting to feel his firmness, touch him, caress him, take him inside her.
He groaned as she moved her pelvis, grinding against him.
He slid his hands around to her waist, traveling up her skin and making her tremble with expectation. She loved how he responded, his heated gaze, his hot touch. His fingertips traced the wire cups of her bra, but then he pushed it out of his way and cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with his hands, the sweater still covering her.
His mouth was on hers, not soft and gentle and refined, but taking what he wanted—knowing she craved the same. The l.u.s.t driving them both. The need to conquer and possess, to fulfill the hunger that chased them.
Her s.e.x was already aching for completion, and she was wet for him. His eyes were filled with desire, his lips insistent, his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth. She savored the feel, sucked on his tongue, and made the big gray wolf groan with entreaty. And she loved it.
His hands slid around her back again, lower and lower until they were on her b.u.t.tocks. He pulled her hard against him, making her feel his feral need for her.
She didn’t hear the music any longer. Their feet were still walking to the beat on the soft plush carpet, but she concentrated on how he made her body turn into a burning furnace. He unzipped her pants, plunged his hand into her panties, and felt the wetness between her legs, then smiled.
An all-knowing, smug smile. He might make her wet, but she made him rock hard. She slid her hand over his jeans and the rigid bulge eager for release and stroked, telling him she wanted him. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands tightening his hold on her a.s.s. He was about ready to strip, forget the foreplay, and get on with business.
She thought she heard him mutter how hot she was, and then he pulled off her sweater and her bra. He tossed them to the floor, then yanked off his own sweater and s.h.i.+rt. She loved the way he made her feel desirable, wanted, needed. Growling low with a little bit of a purr, she ran her fingers over his chest. She felt his sleek, warm, hard muscles under the palms of her hands and saw how his nipples pebbled.
She hadn’t been able to see him like this, hadn’t been up this close to touch him—every bit of him—without being buried beneath blankets and covers to keep the chill out. The room was comfortably warm, though she was burning up as she skimmed her hand over his skin, feeling his muscles, smelling his hot, musky all-man scent. He encouraged her to take her pleasure first, experiencing how her hands slid over him while she cherished him.
That didn’t last long as his mouth drew down to hers, slanting over her lips, his hands now cupping her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His tongue licked the seam of her mouth as she attempted to unzip his pants. He slid his tongue into her mouth again. She concentrated on pulling his jeans away from his lean hips, trying to enjoy the way he invaded her with his tongue and sent her senses reeling.
She struggled, tugging at his jeans, wanting to stroke that enticing part of him that his pants and boxers still held hostage.