now.”
“That was for your own good,” he growled. “But all bets are off if you’re going to wear stuff like this.” He traced the neckline of her dress, the warmth of her skin radiating under his hand.
“Really? Because I was kind of wondering what would happen if I stopped wearing it.” Without warning, she reached toward the side of her dress and drew down the hidden zipper. He went pale.
“Stop right there.”
“Why?” She shimmied, the dress inching down her body.
“Because I can’t be responsible for the consequences.” His gaze latched on to the skin revealed by the zipper. Most of Lizzie was a golden tan from all her outdoor activity, but her torso had a moon-glow sheen that made his mouth water.
“I release you from all responsibility,” she whispered. “I hereby declare that I, Lizzie Breen, am dying to make love to you, Dean Mulligan, and that if I have to wait much longer I won’t be responsible for the consequences, but they’ll be ugly and will probably involve a fire hose or some martial arts moves or something drastic like that. Signed, Elizabeth Elspeth Breen.”
“Elspeth?”
“Don’t ask. Just make love to me, Mulligan.” The dress dropped off her body and there she stood in nothing but a wispy pair of panties, all sleek, lithe radiance.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then swallowed hard. “Lizzie—”
“Shh. I’m a grown woman. And I know what I want.”
She prowled toward him, her hair bouncing on her sweet shoulders, her nipples pink and tender, little buds that made his palms itch to feel them. And then they were there, right under his hands, soft as clouds, warm as home. He groaned into her hair. “God, Lizzie, you smell so good. Like a spring morning.”
“You smell like a tailor’s shop,” she murmured, rubbing her body against his suit coat like a kitty cat. “I can’t believe how amazing you look in this suit. It’s a good thing I haven’t seen you in it before now.”
“Why?” He was ready to ditch the suit and get naked, but not if she liked it that much.
“Because I would have fallen for you even harder and faster. Although I’m not sure that would be possible.”
“Ah, Lizzie. You’re killing me.” But what a sweet way to go, with those words in his head.
“Come on.” She took his hand and pulled him to the bed. Deftly, she unzipped his pants and tugged his white shirt from under its waistband. Damn. When did little Lizzie get so good at undressing a man? He didn’t want to think about that.
“Someone could walk in any minute,” he pointed out in a harsh voice. He didn’t mean it to be harsh; it just burst from his throat that way.
“You locked the door and propped a chair under the knob. If anyone knocks, I’ll have time to get dressed. And you can zip up fast, right?” The wild look in her eyes undid him.
“Oh hell.” He let out a groan that could have come from the depths of hell. “How am I supposed to resist you?”
“You’re not,” she said firmly. She reached into his pants and found his cock, wrapping her hand around it with a shy smile. That smile was the last straw. She was too delicious, too bright and sure and wonderful and everything he’d always wanted, but never imagined could be his. He began kissing his way down her body, her slim neck, the fluttering pulse at its base, the wings of her collarbones, the soft stretch of skin that led deliciously to the rise of her breasts. He took the tender swell of her nipples into his mouth, one by one, savoring them like sweet berries on a sundae. They hardened to little nubbins with an eagerness that made his cock jump.
She stroked it lightly, sighing over the top of his head. “Oh, Mulligan, that feels amazing.”
Those sighs drove him onward. If suckling her nipples made her moan, what else could he coax from her? Freeing himself from her grasp, he knelt on the carpet, holding her hips steady, one hand on each of her ass cheeks, his thumbs delving under her
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