in time with her quiet gasps, so he let her nipple slip from his lips, nuzzling it with his nose while she caught her breath.
He looked up, taking a moment to scan her aura. Then he found her face. Her eyes remained closed, but he could tell she was ready for more, and he was ready to give it to her. He took a calming breath, making sure his body and mind were ready for a dose of raging temptation. Then he turned his anxious gaze to her skirt.
The waistband stretched from one hip bone to the other, smiling below her cute bellybutton, which was framed by lean abs and a tiny waist. The view was amazing, but not what he was looking for, so he vanished the skirt, revealing white cotton panties that were innocently modest yet sexier than hell.
She didn’t struggle or tense, which told him she didn’t know her skirt was gone, and he had no plans to bring it to her attention. She would figure it out soon enough.
He took his time scanning her lithe legs and curvy hips, yearning to run his hands from her toes to her nose, but he wouldn’t get the opportunity tonight. She was far too insecure to feel comfortable with it and would spend more time worrying about what she looked like than how she felt. He would relieve her worries soon enough, and honestly so, for every inch of her was flawless. Toned muscle rolled beneath incredibly smooth skin, following a petite frame angled in all the right places. She was shapely yet tiny, and so dainty in comparison to him he feared he might break her if he wasn’t watchful of his force.
He slid his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck, curving his thumb over her jaw, and his other hand left her breasts, drifting toward the only article of clothing she had left. He had no intention of sending the underwear away. He wanted them to stay, and what he planned to do could be worked around them. Or, to be precise, under them. Eventually, if hope prevailed, he’d get his chance with her sans panties, but he’d save that hurdle for a later date.
He slid his fingertips over thin cotton. Then he squeezed her inner thigh as he parted her legs. Her muscles twitched, but she didn’t fight his pull, so he retraced his path to the top hem of her panties. After throwing one more glance at her face, he let his fingers slip beneath the veil.
His invisible lines were gone now, and his heart thundered at the prospect of feeling past them. Her fingernails dipped into his shoulder, propelling a tingling jolt down his spine, and he took a deep breath, determined not to cross the line too quickly. He didn’t want any of this to pass quickly. In fact, he wouldn’t mind watching it play out in slow motion.
He reached unexplored territory and sucked in a lung-bursting gulp of air, muscles rigid, veins pulsing. She was as smooth there as she was everywhere else—another first for him—and it provoked an astounding wave of desire. He’d never known what he was missing and never imagined it could make that big of a difference. He wanted to see, but refused to push his extraordinary luck, so he closed his eyes, opening his sense of touch to the enthralling path paving his way.
Already lost in longing, Layla barely retained enough sense to hold still and let Quin take the time he wanted. Her control had sprung a leak and would soon succumb to the thrilling current electrifying her blood stream. He was so close to sliding his fingers where no one’s fingers had ever been, and she was ready for him to take the liberty and run with it.
Quin was almost there. He could feel the heat radiating from his goal, the humidity growing thicker as he gained ground. Her arousal swelled beneath the tip of his middle finger, and he lowered his mouth to one of her nipples, sucking it in as he found feather soft folds of moist flesh. They parted around his knuckles as his forefinger advanced and curled, slowly dipping into her body, but it was immediately rejected by flexing muscles. Damn, she was tight, tighter than any
He looked up, taking a moment to scan her aura. Then he found her face. Her eyes remained closed, but he could tell she was ready for more, and he was ready to give it to her. He took a calming breath, making sure his body and mind were ready for a dose of raging temptation. Then he turned his anxious gaze to her skirt.
The waistband stretched from one hip bone to the other, smiling below her cute bellybutton, which was framed by lean abs and a tiny waist. The view was amazing, but not what he was looking for, so he vanished the skirt, revealing white cotton panties that were innocently modest yet sexier than hell.
She didn’t struggle or tense, which told him she didn’t know her skirt was gone, and he had no plans to bring it to her attention. She would figure it out soon enough.
He took his time scanning her lithe legs and curvy hips, yearning to run his hands from her toes to her nose, but he wouldn’t get the opportunity tonight. She was far too insecure to feel comfortable with it and would spend more time worrying about what she looked like than how she felt. He would relieve her worries soon enough, and honestly so, for every inch of her was flawless. Toned muscle rolled beneath incredibly smooth skin, following a petite frame angled in all the right places. She was shapely yet tiny, and so dainty in comparison to him he feared he might break her if he wasn’t watchful of his force.
He slid his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck, curving his thumb over her jaw, and his other hand left her breasts, drifting toward the only article of clothing she had left. He had no intention of sending the underwear away. He wanted them to stay, and what he planned to do could be worked around them. Or, to be precise, under them. Eventually, if hope prevailed, he’d get his chance with her sans panties, but he’d save that hurdle for a later date.
He slid his fingertips over thin cotton. Then he squeezed her inner thigh as he parted her legs. Her muscles twitched, but she didn’t fight his pull, so he retraced his path to the top hem of her panties. After throwing one more glance at her face, he let his fingers slip beneath the veil.
His invisible lines were gone now, and his heart thundered at the prospect of feeling past them. Her fingernails dipped into his shoulder, propelling a tingling jolt down his spine, and he took a deep breath, determined not to cross the line too quickly. He didn’t want any of this to pass quickly. In fact, he wouldn’t mind watching it play out in slow motion.
He reached unexplored territory and sucked in a lung-bursting gulp of air, muscles rigid, veins pulsing. She was as smooth there as she was everywhere else—another first for him—and it provoked an astounding wave of desire. He’d never known what he was missing and never imagined it could make that big of a difference. He wanted to see, but refused to push his extraordinary luck, so he closed his eyes, opening his sense of touch to the enthralling path paving his way.
Already lost in longing, Layla barely retained enough sense to hold still and let Quin take the time he wanted. Her control had sprung a leak and would soon succumb to the thrilling current electrifying her blood stream. He was so close to sliding his fingers where no one’s fingers had ever been, and she was ready for him to take the liberty and run with it.
Quin was almost there. He could feel the heat radiating from his goal, the humidity growing thicker as he gained ground. Her arousal swelled beneath the tip of his middle finger, and he lowered his mouth to one of her nipples, sucking it in as he found feather soft folds of moist flesh. They parted around his knuckles as his forefinger advanced and curled, slowly dipping into her body, but it was immediately rejected by flexing muscles. Damn, she was tight, tighter than any
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