fingers crept over the top of her towel, needing to keep herself secure, protected. ‘Um…thanks…’ She flicked a finger, couldn’t manage the hand. ‘For…that.’
He didn’t reply. He just kept coming, like an approaching storm, big and dark and all-powerful, making her feel insignificant, a fugitive with no place to hide.
His hands curled over hers on the towel, knuckles roughagainst the swell of her still-throbbing breasts and his eyes turned molten, lightning on cobalt.
‘What was that about needing me, Didi?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
D IDI’S breath snagged mid-chest. She gulped in air. ‘I said…we…both needed one another… ’ Oh, cripes…with Cameron’s hands covering hers covering her breasts and his gaze hotter than hell’s kitchen that did not come out sounding the way she’d intended. ‘I mean I think we need to discuss…I nee—have to explain…’
Her words—indeed her entire brain function—seized up as he lowered his head again. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you shut up for a bit?’
His breath feathered across her brow, her cheeks. She could smell fresh winter rain on his clothes, the foresty scent of his aftershave. As if her head were being manipulated by some invisible puppeteer, it tilted up, her lips opening of their own volition. Waiting, trembling…
She had a glimpse of eyes, dark and bright with purpose, a frown of concentration—or was it something else?—between heavily lowered brows before his mouth met hers once more and her eyes slid shut.
This time his tongue didn’t linger around the edges of her mouth, it delved inside, seeking, exploring, finding hers. His flavour filled her mouth. She already knew how he tasted but this was more. Now she experienced, not only the flavours of peppermint and coffee, but the exhilarating essence of desirethat slid like sun-warmed silk over her tongue, her teeth, inside her lower lip.
His hands left hers to better hold her head, to whisk his fingers over cheeks and jaw, leaving her own hands free to touch his shirt, absorb its crisp feel against her fingertips. To feel the steel muscles of his stomach tighten as she flattened then curled her hands against him.
To feel the quickened tempo of his breathing, his chest expanding as his hands left her head to slide over her shoulders, the shh as they shimmied over the towel, warmth from his palms stroking her, lower, lower. Her limbs turned to jelly, her brain liquefied and she felt herself dissolving against him. Total meltdown…
He lifted his head the tiniest bit. ‘Do you need me, Didi?’ he murmured, seduction oozing from the words.
She heard herself murmur something unintelligible back. Was that her voice all deep and drowsy and detached, as if it came from somewhere outside her?
‘Do you need me to touch you…’ she jolted, her hands whipping back to hug the security of her towel when she felt his fingers curl under the hem to touch the bare flesh of her thigh ‘…here?’
Her eyes snapped open to find his eyes focused on hers. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Holding her breath as his hand glided towards her inner thigh, calluses at the base of his fingers creating a delicious friction and sending shivers spiralling from his touch. Moisture swamped her most feminine place.
His hand changed direction, sliding slowly, inexorably towards the source of that moisture, every second an exercise in torture, every inch a scandalous pleasure. She sucked in a breath but there wasn’t any oxygen, only hot airless space filled with his scent. Then her breathing stalled completely as his thumb found the source of her heat, the pinnacle of her pleasure.
‘Or maybe you need me here…’ He prodded the swollen knot of need with gentle pressure.
‘Ah-h-h…’ Oh, yes, right… there. She shuddered on the edge of the world, unable to look away from his eyes glittering in the muted light from the bathroom. His facial muscles bunched, his lips firmed, then curved ever so slightly
Philip Pullman
Pamela Haines
Sasha L. Miller
Rick Riordan
Gertrude Chandler Warner
Harriet Reuter Hapgood
Sheila Roberts
Bradford Morrow
Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout
Jina Bacarr