different… and I’ll be leaving soon… and it will only make things more complicated—”
“Darlin’ ”—Slate sucked on the spot just behind her ear, sending a sensual shiver through her body—“you think way too much.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
“But I don’t know if I can have casual sex, Slate.” She looped her arms around his shoulders and nestled against his bare chest. His skin felt like warm toast all ready for buttering. When he reached the bed, he let her legs slide down his body before pressing the hard evidence of his desire against her.
“There’s not a damned thing casual about this.”
Catching the hem of her T-shirt, Slate drew it up over her head. Thankfully, there was very little light in the room. She wasn’t comfortable enough with her body to want it displayed to someone who looked like he did. As if sensing her shyness, he didn’t grab or fondle, but instead cradled her face and gave her a leisurely kiss that had her hands gripping the lean muscles at his waist for balance.
The kiss deepened, his tongue caressing her mouth in sweet strokes as his hand slipped from her cheek to one trembling breast. He held it as if it was the most fragile keepsake, gently cradling the flesh against his palm as his thumb feathered over the pebbled peak. Then he pulled back from her lips and dipped his head to take her nipple in his mouth.
The feel of rough tongue and scorching heat caused her knees to buckle. His hands tightened on her waist and his biceps flexed as he lifted her up off the floor. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her quivering center riding the hard ridge that swelled beneath the cotton of his shorts as he continued his sweet torture of hot sweeps and gentle tugs. When she thought she couldn’t take it a second longer, he lowered her down to the mattress and gave the wet, beaded tip one last gentle kiss before he released her to slip off his shorts. He came back for her panties, his hot fingers slipping beneath the elastic and slowly skating down her legs.
Then the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and for some strange reason the bumper sticker flashed through her mind—
If you think my truck is big…—
and apprehension reared its ugly head. But instead of the arrogant redneck, the gentle cowboy settled against her side. So close she could feel the solid wall of his chest against her shoulder, the rhythmic thumping of his heart, and the hard length of him nudging her thigh—a hard length that was impressive but not in the least intimidating. As he bent his head to kiss her, the backs of his fingers trailed in a feathery soft caress down her throat, back and forth along her collarbone, then around each breast before he repeated the soul-tingling pattern. Faith meltedbeneath his skilled fingers, although when those hot digits deviated down her body, she couldn’t help but cover his hand with hers and pull away from his lips.
“I’m leaving.” She whispered the words more to herself than to him.
“I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then each eyelid. “But for now, let me touch you.”
It was too late.
He already had.
Closing her eyes, she released his hand. But his knuckles only stroked back and forth between her hip bones as he delivered one sweet kiss after another. Lulled into a blissful, hypnotic state by his talented lips and gentle caresses, she wasn’t even aware of his hand moving lower until one finger dipped into her wet heat.
She tensed, but he soothed her with soft whispers as he adjusted his finger and his thumb came to rest on the pulsing nub at the top. Her legs quivered as a jolt of desire swept through her. But it was nothing compared to how she felt when his thumb began to move. There was a callus on the pad, like the finest grain of sandpaper ever made, and he brushed it around her pulse point in wispy little sweeps. On the upsweep his finger deepened; on the down sweep it receded. The
“Darlin’ ”—Slate sucked on the spot just behind her ear, sending a sensual shiver through her body—“you think way too much.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
“But I don’t know if I can have casual sex, Slate.” She looped her arms around his shoulders and nestled against his bare chest. His skin felt like warm toast all ready for buttering. When he reached the bed, he let her legs slide down his body before pressing the hard evidence of his desire against her.
“There’s not a damned thing casual about this.”
Catching the hem of her T-shirt, Slate drew it up over her head. Thankfully, there was very little light in the room. She wasn’t comfortable enough with her body to want it displayed to someone who looked like he did. As if sensing her shyness, he didn’t grab or fondle, but instead cradled her face and gave her a leisurely kiss that had her hands gripping the lean muscles at his waist for balance.
The kiss deepened, his tongue caressing her mouth in sweet strokes as his hand slipped from her cheek to one trembling breast. He held it as if it was the most fragile keepsake, gently cradling the flesh against his palm as his thumb feathered over the pebbled peak. Then he pulled back from her lips and dipped his head to take her nipple in his mouth.
The feel of rough tongue and scorching heat caused her knees to buckle. His hands tightened on her waist and his biceps flexed as he lifted her up off the floor. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her quivering center riding the hard ridge that swelled beneath the cotton of his shorts as he continued his sweet torture of hot sweeps and gentle tugs. When she thought she couldn’t take it a second longer, he lowered her down to the mattress and gave the wet, beaded tip one last gentle kiss before he released her to slip off his shorts. He came back for her panties, his hot fingers slipping beneath the elastic and slowly skating down her legs.
Then the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and for some strange reason the bumper sticker flashed through her mind—
If you think my truck is big…—
and apprehension reared its ugly head. But instead of the arrogant redneck, the gentle cowboy settled against her side. So close she could feel the solid wall of his chest against her shoulder, the rhythmic thumping of his heart, and the hard length of him nudging her thigh—a hard length that was impressive but not in the least intimidating. As he bent his head to kiss her, the backs of his fingers trailed in a feathery soft caress down her throat, back and forth along her collarbone, then around each breast before he repeated the soul-tingling pattern. Faith meltedbeneath his skilled fingers, although when those hot digits deviated down her body, she couldn’t help but cover his hand with hers and pull away from his lips.
“I’m leaving.” She whispered the words more to herself than to him.
“I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then each eyelid. “But for now, let me touch you.”
It was too late.
He already had.
Closing her eyes, she released his hand. But his knuckles only stroked back and forth between her hip bones as he delivered one sweet kiss after another. Lulled into a blissful, hypnotic state by his talented lips and gentle caresses, she wasn’t even aware of his hand moving lower until one finger dipped into her wet heat.
She tensed, but he soothed her with soft whispers as he adjusted his finger and his thumb came to rest on the pulsing nub at the top. Her legs quivered as a jolt of desire swept through her. But it was nothing compared to how she felt when his thumb began to move. There was a callus on the pad, like the finest grain of sandpaper ever made, and he brushed it around her pulse point in wispy little sweeps. On the upsweep his finger deepened; on the down sweep it receded. The
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