Archangel's Shadows(146)
Ashwini, her breathing less than even, found herself watching the way the muscles of his abdomen flexed and eased as he took off her other boot and sock. He looked up and, smiling, stepped between her thighs and braced himself with his palms on either side of her. Coming down in an effortless move, biceps taut, he flicked his tongue over her lips in a wet tease.
“You’re hot, sugar.”
“Yes.”
“You should take off your jacket.”
“That’s not the kind of heat I’m talking about.” Her body felt as if it were melting from the inside out, her bones honey. However, when he pushed back into a standing position again, she sat up and shrugged off her jacket, as well as the thin sweater she’d pulled on directly over her bra.
Janvier moved with that dangerous, beautiful speed again, his hands on her waist before she’d pushed the strands of hair off her face. Picking her up, he dropped her higher on the bed, so that her legs were no longer half hanging off the side.
It should’ve scared her, the evidence of his strength. Without her weapons, she’d never take him. But she wasn’t scared, not of Janvier, never of him. She welcomed him as he joined her on the bed, his shoulders blocking out the light. With his jeans barely hanging on to his hips, she had plenty of gorgeous male flesh to explore with her hands while he tasted and licked her throat.
Bracing himself on one forearm, he tugged down the cup of her bra. Her breasts were ordinary size; she’d never win a wet T-shirt contest. But Janvier groaned and dipped his head to suck not just her nipple but part of her breast into his mouth.
Spine arching, she thrust the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle her scream as he sucked. Each hot, wet pull went straight to her core. Her panties were so wet she could feel her arousal threatening to soak through her jeans. She didn’t care. Holding him to her, she undulated her body toward his in an attempt to rub up against the delicious friction of his cock.
When he lifted his head, she said, “No.”
Dropping a kiss to her nipple, he shifted his attention to her other breast and it was just as good. It tightened her stomach muscles, made her thighs clench around him. “Janvier.”
“Let me, ma belle sorcière.”
She gave in, allowed him to do what he would, and was panting so hard by the time he lifted his head again that she had no breath to form words. Janvier stroked his hand down her ribs, then reached underneath and up to undo her bra clasp. When that proved difficult with her on her back, he grinned at her. “I’ll replace it.” Lace and cotton tore and her top half was nude to him.
Stroking her, shoulder to thigh, he kissed her mouth, her jaw, whispering sweet, dirty things in her ear that had her hips rising toward him even before he undid her jeans and slid his hand inside her panties. The shock of contact would’ve lifted her off the bed if he hadn’t been pinning her down with his body.
“So wet for me, cher.” His breathing as harsh as her own, he accompanied each word with a kiss. “You make me lose my mind.”
Her own mind a chaos of sensation, she clutched at his shoulders and, unable to resist the temptation, looked down. The sight of his hand between her thighs, his muscular forearm lightly dusted with hair, made her moan. She needed his kiss, needed to find an anchor again. He bent his head, gave her what she wanted without a word passing between them.
When he withdrew his hand ten seconds later, she dug her nails into his shoulders.
“I would see you.” Going down off the bed with those words—with a pause for a kiss or three along her body—he hooked his fingers at the sides and pulled off her jeans and panties in one strong tug. Dropping them onto the floor, he came to kneel between her thighs, taking hold of her knees to spread her wide.