Bad Boy Brit (A British Bad Boy Romance) by Caitlin Daire, Avery Wilde Page B
Authors: Caitlin Daire, Avery Wilde
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with its table, chairs, microphone and associated equipment, might not be anything special, but that view….my god. It definitely wasn’t everyone’s idea of romantic, but Liam apparently understood me very well indeed.
He caught my errant hand and I turned to face him, his eyes questioning and uncertain: did I do right? Is this okay ? I answered him with a kiss, stretching up on the tips of my toes to reach his warm mouth, my soft body pressed against the hardness of his muscular torso. That was my answer— it’s goddamned perfect .
I felt his hands on my back, pressing me against him, and then those hands slid down to my waist. He took hold of the hem of my T-shirt and I raised my hands to let him slip it up over my head. Then he kissed me again, as if he could not bear even the few seconds apart that undressing required, and I did the same for him, struggling a little to get his T-shirt over his outstretched hands as our lips clashed in a war of passion, tongues entwining and fighting for domination.
I felt the heat of his eyes on my body, drinking in every curve, and I returned the favor, my gaze tracing a smoldering trail over the hard, delineated muscles, the washboard abs, and further down…
Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed the waistband of his pants and knelt, pulling them down as I went. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted any man in my life, my desire now so potent that it seemed to have a cutting edge to it. For an inexplicable moment I even thought I might cry. With gentle hands, Liam drew me up and kissed me again, first on the mouth and then across my cheek and down my neck. As he did so he kicked off his shoes and socks. He was now naked against me, and the thought made my mouth go dry as another part of my body became decidedly wet.
Still gentle, his hands surprisingly smooth, Liam lifted me, taking my weight with ease in his strong arms, and he sat me on the edge of the little announcer’s table. He kissed me yet again but I pressed him back—I wanted to see him.
There was a lot to admire about Liam from a physical point of view—he kept in fantastic shape for his job, and genetics had taken care of the rest. And yet, what I found most appealing and instantly attractive in the perfect male specimen before me was not the chiseled muscles or other remarkable attributes, but the slight nervousness in his eyes. Liam Croft, who had been with so many women—so many models and actresses—still worried about disappointing me in some respect. Me!
This was a Liam Croft that very few had ever seen. In fact, I wondered if I might be the first.
I found myself eager to take the same step he had, to submit myself to his scrutiny as he had to mine; to be as nervous and worried but still comfortable in his silent presence. I reached behind my back and unclipped the clasp of my bra, removing it and letting my breasts spill free of the confines. Liam’s breath seemed suddenly audible, his arousal obvious in more ways than one. He came to me and brought his lips to mine, and I kissed and bit back at him in my feverish passion. His hands were on my hips now, searching for the waistband of my sweatpants, and I kicked off my shoes in readiness, keen for him to remove the final obstacle between us.
The shoes hit the floor. They were followed not long after by my sweatpants and finally my panties, which Liam had drawn down my legs. As he did so, his fingers grazed my skin and just this light contact sent electric shocks of pleasure through my whole system. God, just how much better could it get? Liam looked up at me, and I looked back, the whole situation suddenly crashing in upon us. It all still seemed so perfect.
So right.
“Oh, god…” I murmured as he leaned down, taking my lips in his.
I was surprised all over again at how soft they were, how gentle and yet forceful his embrace was. Our tongues danced, and I wrapped myself around him, feeling the fire between us raging ever stronger. I loved
He caught my errant hand and I turned to face him, his eyes questioning and uncertain: did I do right? Is this okay ? I answered him with a kiss, stretching up on the tips of my toes to reach his warm mouth, my soft body pressed against the hardness of his muscular torso. That was my answer— it’s goddamned perfect .
I felt his hands on my back, pressing me against him, and then those hands slid down to my waist. He took hold of the hem of my T-shirt and I raised my hands to let him slip it up over my head. Then he kissed me again, as if he could not bear even the few seconds apart that undressing required, and I did the same for him, struggling a little to get his T-shirt over his outstretched hands as our lips clashed in a war of passion, tongues entwining and fighting for domination.
I felt the heat of his eyes on my body, drinking in every curve, and I returned the favor, my gaze tracing a smoldering trail over the hard, delineated muscles, the washboard abs, and further down…
Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed the waistband of his pants and knelt, pulling them down as I went. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted any man in my life, my desire now so potent that it seemed to have a cutting edge to it. For an inexplicable moment I even thought I might cry. With gentle hands, Liam drew me up and kissed me again, first on the mouth and then across my cheek and down my neck. As he did so he kicked off his shoes and socks. He was now naked against me, and the thought made my mouth go dry as another part of my body became decidedly wet.
Still gentle, his hands surprisingly smooth, Liam lifted me, taking my weight with ease in his strong arms, and he sat me on the edge of the little announcer’s table. He kissed me yet again but I pressed him back—I wanted to see him.
There was a lot to admire about Liam from a physical point of view—he kept in fantastic shape for his job, and genetics had taken care of the rest. And yet, what I found most appealing and instantly attractive in the perfect male specimen before me was not the chiseled muscles or other remarkable attributes, but the slight nervousness in his eyes. Liam Croft, who had been with so many women—so many models and actresses—still worried about disappointing me in some respect. Me!
This was a Liam Croft that very few had ever seen. In fact, I wondered if I might be the first.
I found myself eager to take the same step he had, to submit myself to his scrutiny as he had to mine; to be as nervous and worried but still comfortable in his silent presence. I reached behind my back and unclipped the clasp of my bra, removing it and letting my breasts spill free of the confines. Liam’s breath seemed suddenly audible, his arousal obvious in more ways than one. He came to me and brought his lips to mine, and I kissed and bit back at him in my feverish passion. His hands were on my hips now, searching for the waistband of my sweatpants, and I kicked off my shoes in readiness, keen for him to remove the final obstacle between us.
The shoes hit the floor. They were followed not long after by my sweatpants and finally my panties, which Liam had drawn down my legs. As he did so, his fingers grazed my skin and just this light contact sent electric shocks of pleasure through my whole system. God, just how much better could it get? Liam looked up at me, and I looked back, the whole situation suddenly crashing in upon us. It all still seemed so perfect.
So right.
“Oh, god…” I murmured as he leaned down, taking my lips in his.
I was surprised all over again at how soft they were, how gentle and yet forceful his embrace was. Our tongues danced, and I wrapped myself around him, feeling the fire between us raging ever stronger. I loved
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