“Say the word.”
“Soon.” Linking her fingers with his, she took his other hand, this time pressing her lips to his palm.
“Then there’s your mouth. I like that, too. It’s clever. Skilled. Every time you kiss me, I can’t think of anything but you.” Keeping his hands loosely clasped in hers, she rose to her toes and brushed her lips over his.
He leaned forward, capturing her mouth and deepening the kiss until his mind clouded with her taste. Her quiet sigh raced through him. But then she pulled back.
“I could go on kissing you for hours.”
“I’m game.” He was surprised to hear the hoarseness in his voice.
“Soon.” She nipped his bottom lip and whispered, “Soon.”
The words sent a shock wave of heat through him. Though she still had his hands in hers, they both knew that he could easily break free. She was deliberately trying to make him lose control. Realizing that was the only thing that allowed him to keep a slim grip on his sanity. “I’m going to have you.”
“Of course.” Her tone was maddeningly amiable. “But remember the rules. First, I’m going to touch you. You didn’t let me touch you at all this morning.”
Releasing him, she ran her hands from his waist up his rib cage. Slowly. The gentle brush of her fingers over his nipples tore at what was left of his restraint, and rationality began to slip away as she took one and then the other into her mouth.
She drew back, met his eyes and said, “Now.”
D.C. yanked her to the floor.
Triumphant, Fiona gloried in what she’d started. She knew exactly what he was feeling as his hands raced over her, molding, bruising. She felt it, too—a savage, consuming hunger. It raged through her system, blocking out everything. With her hands tangled in his hair, her body on fire, she thought only of him. There were no yesterdays, no tomorrows. Just D.C. and what they could bring each other.
His taste filled her—all those dark, forbidden flavors, but there was no time to savor them, not when her need was so huge. Desperate, she rolled him over so that she could lie along the length of him. Now his hardness was pressed against her, but it wasn’t close enough. When his mouth freed hers briefly, she bit his shoulder. “I said now.”
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Couldn’t get enough of her. Pulling her beneath him, he ran his hands over her again. Her skin was silky, hot, irresistible—smooth here, firm there. Each texture burned through him and sharpened the ache inside of him. With his lungs burning, he took his mouth on the same quick journey his hands had taken. He found pleasure, hot and molten at her breasts, sweet and pungent along her rib cage, her narrow waist. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Moving his mouth lower, he found the liquid heat at her center. Only then did he linger, slipping his hands beneath her and gripping her tightly while he feasted. And feasted. Her flavors flowed into him until they filled him completely. When she arched against him, gasping his name, he felt himself slip to the edge of reason. Teetering there, he tarried until he felt the next shock of pleasure sweep through her.
Then breathless, his need almost unbearable, he managed to get the condom from his discarded jeans and fumble it into place. Finally, he settled his body over hers. Inches away he stared into her eyes and saw himself. He was hers.
You’re mine.
He wasn’t sure who said the words, but they drove him to take her with a force that had her choking out his name. He covered her mouth with his and swallowed the sound. Then he could hear nothing but the roar of his own blood, feel nothing but unspeakable pleasure as he drove her and she drove him until there was no one and nothing but blinding heat, swirling colors and the two of them.
This was all he wanted. Everything he wanted. Caught up in her and the storm they were creating, they both moved faster and faster until they broke free together.
12
IT WAS NEARLY TEN when Fiona twisted the last of her linguine around her fork.
“More?” D.C. asked.
She waved a hand. “No. It was wonderful. I’ll be lucky if I can get up after this.”
“We don’t have to.” He smiled at her over the rim of his wineglass.
“Give me a few minutes and you’re on.”
He threw back his head and laughed. When she joined him, D.C. had to suppress the urge to pull her onto his lap and make love to her again. She didn’t laugh nearly often enough.
They were sitting like little kids on the floor of her living room. It had taken them a long time to get to dinner. In D.C.’s opinion, it was a long, delicious time. After they’d made love on her kitchen floor, he’d taken the lead by carrying her into the shower. Then while they were dressing, she’d shoved him onto the bed, and they’d made love again.