her dress and her hot, tingling skin. He began peeling the dress from her shoulders. It surprised her that his pleasure in undressing her was also her own. She lifted her face to his, and in an effort to control her breathing, studied his expression.
His eyes were focused on the task at hand. With easy, tantalizing grace, he pulled the dress down past the fullness of her breasts. She heard his breathing quicken, saw the slow fire build in his eyes. "I'm impressed."
Fighting her nervousness, she managed a slight smile, a bit of sass. "I kind of thought you would be."
Taylor laughed softly and pulled her bared torso flush to his body. It was like embracing flame. Suddenly his thin cotton shirt felt like canvas against her nipples. She wanted to tear it off and toss it over his head. Make him as naked as she was.
Easing his hands to her elbows, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs.
Willow first felt the rush of his breath on her breasts, a forest-fire wind, then a light kiss on each nipple. She swallowed hard and placed her hands on his shoulders. So straight. So muscular. Like warmed oak.
Expectant—of what she didn't know—and weirdly impatient, she clung to him as his hands journeyed up her midriff to rest under her breasts. Her thoughts blurred like rain-soaked ink, and all she wanted was to feel, to follow the eddying heat.
He blew lightly on her rigid nipples before touching them with the pads of his thumbs. When she gasped, he filled his hands with her. Yes! She strained into them, and he buried his face between her breasts. Wild heat poured downward, pooling and smoldering in her core. Trembling, her limbs rubbery, she was uncertain how long she'd stay upright.
Taylor fought with the raging gods of testosterone for restraint. With her breasts filling his hands, and every inch of her straining toward him, his brain was closing shop.
Easy. Take it easy.
He brought his head back and looked at her. She was breathing deep and hard, but she wasn't making a sound—holding back. He moved his thumb to the bottom of her nipple and lifted it. His tongue slicked over it as his hand shaped her breast to suckle. He tugged lightly at the hardened tip, then took it, took her , deep into his mouth.
Willow let out a gasp and something like a purr—a stifled moan.
"It's okay. Let it go. I want to know what you like." He licked a waiting nipple. At eye level, they were impossible to resist. "Do you like that?"
She nodded and her short nails dug into his shoulders as if to seek support.
"Did I tell you how much I like this dress?" He slid his fingers under the fabric and in one easy motion pulled it down and off her body. When he saw what was under it, he caught his breath. Damn near lost it. His lungs worked like a bellows. The tiny swath of ruby-red satin barely covered her patch of tawny curls. "Jesus…" And he'd thought down-under couldn't get any harder.
"Is something wrong?"
"No. Couldn't be more right." He forced his response from a constricted throat and pulled her down to the bed. Her blond hair fanned out over the worn quilt, and Taylor raised himself on an elbow to look at her. "You're beautiful, Willy." Beautiful didn't begin to say it, but for now it was all his fevered brain could come up with.
"Thank you," she said primly. "You're beautiful, too."
Okay, so they were both verbally challenged…
His mouth closed over hers, and he took her with his tongue. When Willow's body, its energy barely contained, responded instantly, what control he had evaporated. Her hands stroked, her tongue danced, letting him know she wanted it all. And everything he gave she gave back. His erection pressed against her made him crazy.
She buried her face into the heat of his throat, then tugged at the neckline of his shirt. "I think this should—"
She hadn't finished the question before he had the shirt off.
"Better?"
"Much better." Her voice was a rough whisper when she reached for his
His eyes were focused on the task at hand. With easy, tantalizing grace, he pulled the dress down past the fullness of her breasts. She heard his breathing quicken, saw the slow fire build in his eyes. "I'm impressed."
Fighting her nervousness, she managed a slight smile, a bit of sass. "I kind of thought you would be."
Taylor laughed softly and pulled her bared torso flush to his body. It was like embracing flame. Suddenly his thin cotton shirt felt like canvas against her nipples. She wanted to tear it off and toss it over his head. Make him as naked as she was.
Easing his hands to her elbows, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs.
Willow first felt the rush of his breath on her breasts, a forest-fire wind, then a light kiss on each nipple. She swallowed hard and placed her hands on his shoulders. So straight. So muscular. Like warmed oak.
Expectant—of what she didn't know—and weirdly impatient, she clung to him as his hands journeyed up her midriff to rest under her breasts. Her thoughts blurred like rain-soaked ink, and all she wanted was to feel, to follow the eddying heat.
He blew lightly on her rigid nipples before touching them with the pads of his thumbs. When she gasped, he filled his hands with her. Yes! She strained into them, and he buried his face between her breasts. Wild heat poured downward, pooling and smoldering in her core. Trembling, her limbs rubbery, she was uncertain how long she'd stay upright.
Taylor fought with the raging gods of testosterone for restraint. With her breasts filling his hands, and every inch of her straining toward him, his brain was closing shop.
Easy. Take it easy.
He brought his head back and looked at her. She was breathing deep and hard, but she wasn't making a sound—holding back. He moved his thumb to the bottom of her nipple and lifted it. His tongue slicked over it as his hand shaped her breast to suckle. He tugged lightly at the hardened tip, then took it, took her , deep into his mouth.
Willow let out a gasp and something like a purr—a stifled moan.
"It's okay. Let it go. I want to know what you like." He licked a waiting nipple. At eye level, they were impossible to resist. "Do you like that?"
She nodded and her short nails dug into his shoulders as if to seek support.
"Did I tell you how much I like this dress?" He slid his fingers under the fabric and in one easy motion pulled it down and off her body. When he saw what was under it, he caught his breath. Damn near lost it. His lungs worked like a bellows. The tiny swath of ruby-red satin barely covered her patch of tawny curls. "Jesus…" And he'd thought down-under couldn't get any harder.
"Is something wrong?"
"No. Couldn't be more right." He forced his response from a constricted throat and pulled her down to the bed. Her blond hair fanned out over the worn quilt, and Taylor raised himself on an elbow to look at her. "You're beautiful, Willy." Beautiful didn't begin to say it, but for now it was all his fevered brain could come up with.
"Thank you," she said primly. "You're beautiful, too."
Okay, so they were both verbally challenged…
His mouth closed over hers, and he took her with his tongue. When Willow's body, its energy barely contained, responded instantly, what control he had evaporated. Her hands stroked, her tongue danced, letting him know she wanted it all. And everything he gave she gave back. His erection pressed against her made him crazy.
She buried her face into the heat of his throat, then tugged at the neckline of his shirt. "I think this should—"
She hadn't finished the question before he had the shirt off.
"Better?"
"Much better." Her voice was a rough whisper when she reached for his
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