“I’m sorry,” she said.
He frowned. “For what?”
“For waiting so long. For pushing you away all those times. I’m not going anywhere this time, Cole.”
He let out a groan with his exhale, then leveled a devastating crook of his lips on her that made her knees weak.
“You have a pretty mouth, Savannah.” He kissed her again. She loved the way he kissed. It wasn’t savage or demanding, but more of a lazy, exploratory taste, rubbing his lips against hers, teasing her with his tongue. And while he did it, she was getting dizzy, everything inside her heating up to boiling point. Her butt rested on his kitchen table, and Cole had maneuvered himself between her legs, all that denim-clad muscle inching ever closer to her sweet spot.
She quivered with anticipation, moaned with it when he pushed her back on the table, grabbed her butt, and pulled her closer to the edge, drawing her pussy right against the hard ridge of his erection.
Lord have mercy, but if she rubbed herself against his delicious cock, she could come. Just the thought of her rocking against him while he watched—both of them fully clothed—made her clit throb and her nipples tingle. It was one of her hottest fantasies.
She tilted her head back and wrapped her legs around him, delving into the thought of doing just that. And when he laid the palm of his hand at her rib cage, where her heart beat a hard rhythm, she opened her eyes and met his gaze.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice as dark as his eyes.
“That if I rubbed myself against you I could come.”
He inhaled sharply and tilted his head down. His lids went to half mast, and he looked like the devil himself.
Which only turned her on even more.
“Yeah, that could be fun,” he said, his fingers clenching and unclenching on her hips. “But I’m gonna be the one to get you off tonight. More than once.”
Heavens. She’d just bet he could, too. There was an air of confidence about Cole, one of the things she liked most about him. She believed he could do what he said he could, and she looked forward to the hands-on experience.
When he pulled her to sit up and slid his fingers in her hair, she realized she never really enjoyed that whole hands-on thing. Oh, foreplay was nice of course, but she was always in a rush to get to the good part. She loved sex, loved everything about it, but she most enjoyed having a man inside her. It was the one time she felt the connection she’d spent her life searching for.
Now, with Cole’s hands buried in her hair, his body pressed full-on against hers and his mouth doing delicious things to hers, she felt one zinger of a connection, and they weren’t even close to the good part yet. She still had her clothes on, for one thing. But the way he massaged her scalp when he kissed her, she realized she’d never tingled before, except in all her girlie parts, of course. But her head tingled, and so did her lips. She was one giant nerve ending of feeling, from the top of her head all the way down to her uncharacteristically curling toes.
And when he scooped his hands under her ass and picked her up, she wrapped her legs around him and held on, nearly swooning, as his lips were still joined with hers and he was carrying her out of the kitchen toward—no doubt—his bedroom.
Her sex pulsed with anticipation, but then he stopped in the hallway, pressed her against the wall and kissed her so deeply she was dizzy.
She’d never been so fully involved in a kiss before, or so aware of every part of her body. Cole aligned his body with hers, and her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples tightening in an agonizingly pleasurable way. When he moved his mouth from her lips to her throat, she banged her head against the wall, the pain only heightening her pleasure.
“I think I might take you right here in the hall,” he said, his voice rough and low. “I don’t think I can wait.” He licked along her collarbone, his tongue dipping into the swell just above her breasts. “What would you think about that?”
Think? She had no thoughts. Her mind had gone liquid, like the rest of her. She couldn’t believe he was still holding her, that every part of her body quivered, and that she was so close to an orgasm that one touch, one lick, would set her off. She swallowed past the dryness in her throat and fought for an answer.
“I think you can do whatever you want to with me.”
He laughed, the sound wicked and devilish. “I’m planning on it.”
He set her on her feet and she wasn’t at all surprised to feel her legs trembling. He held on to her with one hand, while the other pulled down the straps of her dress to reveal her bra.
“Pretty,” he said, his gaze caressing the black and yellow lace-and-satin demi-bra she’d chosen tonight. He drew one cup down and her breast popped free, her nipple already hard and aching.
“Even prettier.” He captured the bud between his lips and, lord have mercy, she thought she might die right there in his hallway.
She wanted to close her eyes and focus on the sensation, but she couldn’t help herself—she had to watch what he was doing with his amazing mouth. She looked down, watched her nipple disappear between his lips, felt the suction as he captured it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The sensation shot right to her clit, the aching tingle unbearable. And when he released, she gasped.
He looked up at her and grinned. “You taste good, Peaches.”
She didn’t even get a chance to catch her breath, because he pulled the other cup down and flicked his tongue over her nipple, caught her breast in his hand and played with it, toyed with the bud until her legs were so wobbly she’d have slid down the wall if he hadn’t been pressed against her, holding her there.
She might be in charge of making over his image, but he had full mastery over her body right now. She didn’t have a problem with relinquishing control over to him, not when he sipped at her nipples and ran his hands down her sides to lift her dress.
He let loose of the bud he’d been suckling to drop to his knees and run his hands over her sides, drawing her panties down to her ankles.
“Step out of these for me.”
She shuddered and obeyed, feeling sinfully sexy standing in his hallway with the top of her dress dropped to her waist, her breasts bared, and her panties now gone. Anticipation made her swell with heat and arousal, especially when he pulled her dress down over her hips and it dropped to the floor.
“I want to see you.”
When he pressed a kiss to her hip bone, her already weakened legs wobbled a little more.
“Damn, you’re beautiful, Peaches.” He leaned in and slipped his tongue along the folds of her pussy, before tilting his head back to meet her gaze. “And you taste as good as you look. Tell me to make you come.”
That one lick made her quiver. She wanted so much more. Without hesitation, she said, “Make me come, Cole.”
He raised up, grabbed her ass, and put his mouth on her. His tongue was warm and wet across her clit, flooding her with heat and sensation and a trembling, aching need for more. His fingers dug into the cheeks of her ass, and she was overcome with the sheer pleasure of his touch and his mouth on her.
Mercy, but the man had a talented mouth. And the things he could do with his tongue should be outlawed. Or at least forbidden from use on any other woman but her for the rest of his natural life, because she was going to take him home with her, lock him in her bedroom, and never let him go.
He had a way of using his tongue that defied logic. He rolled it over her, slid it inside her, and dragged it slowly over her sex, swamping her with sensation until she arched against him and came with a wild, unexpected cry. Through her unabashed climax he held tight to her, never once relinquishing his hold on her.
Panting, she pressed her palms against the wall for support, but she didn’t need to worry because Cole stood, slid an arm around her, then planted his mouth on hers. She wound an arm around his neck and kissed him back, trying not to appear as desperate as she felt. Normally, she played it cool and unruffled, but he had definitely ruffled every part of her. She was hot and perspiring and shaking all over. Her normal calm had been replaced by a frenzied need to get him naked so she could run her hands and mouth all over his fine body. And then she wanted—no, needed—him inside her.
It couldn’t happen soon enough for her liking.
He lifted her and carried her the rest of the way down the hall. She held back on rejoicing, but she was closer to getting exactly what she wanted. They fell onto the bed and she rolled him over onto his back. She undid the clasp of her bra and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor.
“I like where this is going,” he said, reaching for her breasts.
She pushed his hands away. “No.”
He frowned, but then she slid her hands under his shirt, and his lids shuttered halfway down. There was something very dark when he looked at her like that…something elemental and wicked that made her want to climb on his very erect cock and do very nasty things with him.
She licked her lips and spread her fingers, exploring his firm, muscled abs as she raised his shirt up. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his bare stomach, snaking her tongue out to follow the trail of soft hair that led to his belt buckle.
He hissed and grabbed a handful of her hair. Mercy, but she liked the feel of his power. She undid his belt buckle and drew the zipper down, feeling the hard ridge of his erection pressing against the seam. Anxious to release him, but also knowing how much he wanted this, she lifted, meeting his gaze as she rubbed against his cock with the heel of her hand.
He gave her a warning glance. “Savannah.”
She rubbed again, feeling the length and thickness of him. She shuddered out a sigh and cupped him through his boxer briefs. “This is very nice.”
He glared at her, lifting against her hand. She bent and pressed a kiss to the open vee of his jeans, inhaling the musky scent of him. So very male, so potent and arousing.
She rose and reached for his pants. He helped her by shrugging them down his hips. The unveiling was like watching a work of art. Tan skin, then white, a few scars here and there, but the mars only highlighted his beauty.
His nose was a little crooked, and he had a scar across his chin. Another scar ran the length of his forearm and there was a jagged one on his thigh, too. Perfection was overrated. She much preferred a man who wasn’t so perfect that she’d feel inadequate. After all, she was hardly a fashion model. She was full bodied, and he was all muscle, yet lean, and oh so thick in one place. He made her mouth water.
He raised up so she could remove his shirt and continue her worship of his sculpted shoulders. She loved a man’s arms. There was something absolutely delicious about the deltoid muscles and biceps. She’d felt his strength when he’d held her up in the hallway. She was certainly no light-as-a-feather woman, yet he hadn’t strained holding her.
She ran the tips of her fingers over his arms, then across his chest, snaking them down his stomach to where his cock jutted up, proud and hard and tempting. She wound her fingers around him, lifting her gaze to his face.
He was watching her hand, his gaze focused on her stroking his shaft. She squeezed harder at the base, lightening her touch when she got to the soft crest, where she circled her thumb over the silky top.
Nestling onto her stomach, she shouldered her way between his legs and traced her thumb over the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.
“Your cock is beautiful,” she said.
“It’s not beautiful. It’s tough and manly.”
She laughed. “Okay. It’s tough and manly. And beautiful.” She licked the tip, then rose up to put her lips over the wide crest. When her mouth slid over him, she heard his harsh breath.
He slid his hand in her hair, grabbing a handful of it to hold on to as she wound her tongue around his shaft, licking her way from base to tip, then going down on him again, taking him deep until he let out a strangled groan as she felt his cockhead bump the back of her throat.