excitement he usually got from feeling the perfect mix of moisture and organic matter didn’t come.
The camera clicked rapidly. “Can you walk into the actual field and then do a peekaboo from behind the stalks?”
He rose to his feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.” She looked taken aback and came and stood next to him. “I want to see if the shot will work or if the shadows are too long.”
The request hit the limit of his patience. Everything he believed about being a man was suddenly at stake. “Not even a whipped groom is going to pop out from behind sunflower stalks.”
Her chestnut brows quirked knowingly. “Believe me, a groom will do pretty much anything his bride asks, especially if she’s invoked the ‘no sex’ rule for the previous seven days.”
Her lush lips had formed a perfect red O when she said “no,” and when it combined with the smoky way her voice rolled over the word sex , he let his throbbing body take control. He stepped in close. The fruity scent of her hair and the crisp fresh aroma of her perfume flooded him and he looked straight into those upward-slanting eyes rimmed with thick, cocoa lashes. “A groom will do pretty much anything the bride wants, you say?”
Her eyes widened at his softly spoken words but she didn’t back away. “So I’ve been told.”
“Then he’s not much of a man.” He slid his hand under the bob of her hair, his fingers cupping the soft skin of her neck. Her warmth caressed his palm and her pulse bounded against it.
She shuddered at his touch, the delicious movement flowing into him like a heat-seeking missile with its target fully in its sights. He groaned and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, gently easing the damp fullness down.
For a long moment time stood still—his thumb suspended against delicious softness. Then she flicked out her tongue, its pink tip circling the pad of his thumb, around and around and around. His blood roared, shattering his pretense at restraint and he lowered his mouth to hers.
Erin shut her mind to all the reasons why kissing Luke Anderson was a hugely dumb idea. Instead she focused on the fact that he was real rather than a disembodied, sexy GPS voice, and she closed her eyes on a blissful sigh. Who knew the gorgeous to look at yet often irritable, difficult and confusing guy was a kissing god. How could that be?
But answering that question was beyond her as his mouth trailed over hers. The slight scratch of his work-hardened hands was as rough as he got. There was no saliva-loaded attack, no tongue lashing at her teeth trying to gain entry before being plunged down her throat. No, this kiss was soft, enticing and divine—a slow exploration of her lips as if they were some precious parcel to be unwrapped slowly and carefully, layer upon layer upon layer.
Her arm lost strength and dropped to her side, her grip on her camera barely holding, and she leaned into him. Pliant and sighing against his mouth, she lost herself in the wonder of the moment, hoping it would never end. She could stay here all day being kissed like this, pressed up against his broad, solid chest, and still be left wanting more.
His fingers toyed with her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as his mouth moved slowly off her lips and reached her jaw. Her body turned liquid as pleasure streamed through her, slowly waking her up cell by cell and stripping her muscles and bones of their form. Her head tilted back of its own accord, giving him access to more skin, wanting more of the same, and as his mouth roamed, her body floated. It was like lying in a warm, fragrant bath surrounded by candles and listening to the lulling sounds of Vivaldi. He plied her skin with featherlight kisses as if she was fragile porcelain and any more pressure might make her shatter.
Oh , yes , please.
She gloried in it all and was just hoping that he’d start nuzzling her neck, especially the dip at the base, when he reached her earlobe. He kissed it
The camera clicked rapidly. “Can you walk into the actual field and then do a peekaboo from behind the stalks?”
He rose to his feet. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.” She looked taken aback and came and stood next to him. “I want to see if the shot will work or if the shadows are too long.”
The request hit the limit of his patience. Everything he believed about being a man was suddenly at stake. “Not even a whipped groom is going to pop out from behind sunflower stalks.”
Her chestnut brows quirked knowingly. “Believe me, a groom will do pretty much anything his bride asks, especially if she’s invoked the ‘no sex’ rule for the previous seven days.”
Her lush lips had formed a perfect red O when she said “no,” and when it combined with the smoky way her voice rolled over the word sex , he let his throbbing body take control. He stepped in close. The fruity scent of her hair and the crisp fresh aroma of her perfume flooded him and he looked straight into those upward-slanting eyes rimmed with thick, cocoa lashes. “A groom will do pretty much anything the bride wants, you say?”
Her eyes widened at his softly spoken words but she didn’t back away. “So I’ve been told.”
“Then he’s not much of a man.” He slid his hand under the bob of her hair, his fingers cupping the soft skin of her neck. Her warmth caressed his palm and her pulse bounded against it.
She shuddered at his touch, the delicious movement flowing into him like a heat-seeking missile with its target fully in its sights. He groaned and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, gently easing the damp fullness down.
For a long moment time stood still—his thumb suspended against delicious softness. Then she flicked out her tongue, its pink tip circling the pad of his thumb, around and around and around. His blood roared, shattering his pretense at restraint and he lowered his mouth to hers.
Erin shut her mind to all the reasons why kissing Luke Anderson was a hugely dumb idea. Instead she focused on the fact that he was real rather than a disembodied, sexy GPS voice, and she closed her eyes on a blissful sigh. Who knew the gorgeous to look at yet often irritable, difficult and confusing guy was a kissing god. How could that be?
But answering that question was beyond her as his mouth trailed over hers. The slight scratch of his work-hardened hands was as rough as he got. There was no saliva-loaded attack, no tongue lashing at her teeth trying to gain entry before being plunged down her throat. No, this kiss was soft, enticing and divine—a slow exploration of her lips as if they were some precious parcel to be unwrapped slowly and carefully, layer upon layer upon layer.
Her arm lost strength and dropped to her side, her grip on her camera barely holding, and she leaned into him. Pliant and sighing against his mouth, she lost herself in the wonder of the moment, hoping it would never end. She could stay here all day being kissed like this, pressed up against his broad, solid chest, and still be left wanting more.
His fingers toyed with her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as his mouth moved slowly off her lips and reached her jaw. Her body turned liquid as pleasure streamed through her, slowly waking her up cell by cell and stripping her muscles and bones of their form. Her head tilted back of its own accord, giving him access to more skin, wanting more of the same, and as his mouth roamed, her body floated. It was like lying in a warm, fragrant bath surrounded by candles and listening to the lulling sounds of Vivaldi. He plied her skin with featherlight kisses as if she was fragile porcelain and any more pressure might make her shatter.
Oh , yes , please.
She gloried in it all and was just hoping that he’d start nuzzling her neck, especially the dip at the base, when he reached her earlobe. He kissed it
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