Miss Lizzy's Legacy by Peggy Moreland

distantly aware of his movements as he shimmied out of his jeans, but when he moved his hands to the snap on hers, she shivered in anticipation. Frustrated as much as he by the clothes that separated them, Callie lifted her hips. Judd rose to his knees above her, caught her jeans in his hands and peeled them down her legs. He tossed them to the floor, then rose above her like a proud conqueror.
    The artist in Callie cried out for her clay so that she could capture him just as he appeared at that very moment—with perspiration beading his skin and turning it bronze in the soft lamplight. Every muscle pumped with passion, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps and thighs, the tapered waist and narrow hips. Virility pulsed from every fiber of his being.
    Callie opened her arms, welcoming him. Judd sank against her on a sigh.
    To Judd, making love to a woman was much like making music. Both had a rhythm and a song, silently waiting for the touch of his fingers to bring it to life. He sought the music in Callie, playing his fingers over her breasts, down her rib cage, dipping them between her legs, then dragging them back across her heated skin in a rhythm that thrummed silently within him. He heard each tiny gasp of delight, every moan of pleasure, each whispered urging, and reveled in the passion buried within her.
    Positioning himself above her with a knee on either side of her hips, he reached out, curving his hands around her breasts, tipping them upwards, then reshaping them in the gentle curve between thumb and finger. He strummed a nail across each tightened bud, watching while her face contorted then softened and a low moan of pleasure rumbled deep in her throat.
    Unable to resist, he dipped his head first over one nipple, then the other. He flicked his tongue over each before drawing her breasts together between his hands and taking both nipples into his mouth, alternately sucking and laving until her body bucked against his.
    Over and over again he brought her to the edge of insanity, then soothed her with gentle hands and tender words, until she lay panting, her body quivering with her need for him.
    â€œJudd, please,” she cried. “I want—”
    Though he knew what she wanted, felt it in every shudder of her body against his, he had to hear her say it. “What?” he whispered, raining fevered kisses from ear to ear. “What do you want?”
    Catching his cheeks between her hands, she forced his gaze to hers. “I want you,” she whispered.
    The truth of that darkened her eyes, empowering him with her trust—the one thing he’d needed before making her his. He rocked back on his knees and caught her hips between his hands. He drew her to him, slowly losing himself in the velvet wetness. He clenched his teeth and threw back his head, groaning at the exquisite torture of being surrounded by her.
    Callie arched against him as shock waves of pleasure rippled through her. He held her hips tight against his until the ripples passed. Then he began to move inside her, slowly setting the rhythm for her to follow.
    With each thrust of his groin, he increased the tempo until perspiration beaded his skin beneath her clever hands, and his breath heaved hot and wanting between them. A low, primal growl rose from deep within him as the pressure built. He dug his hands into her hips and arched hard against her, calling out her name as he took her with him over the edge.
    * * *
    Judd opened one eye to find sunshine bathing the room. He opened the second and cocked his head, slowly focusing on the woman curled against him. Her hair, polished to the color of mahogany by morning sunshine, tumbled across the pillow and spilled over his arm and chest. Beneath the burnished strands, her hand was tucked between her cheek and his chest. Her other hand was buried somewhere under her pillow. She slept like she made love...with trust and total abandon.
    Callie. Callie. Oh,