Dream Wedding(42)
“Like what?”
He smiled. “Let me show you.”
CHAPTER NINE
HE BENT DOWN and pressed his mouth against hers. His lips were warm and firm. He moved with a sureness that told her he remembered their previous kiss. The one at the reception. Unfortunately her memories stretched back to another time when they’d made love in a cave on the side of a mountain.
She told herself not to think about that. The dream was just that—fantasy. This was real, this man who held her in his arms and moved his mouth back and forth as if seeking the most perfect fit. But even as she tried to push the past away, it intruded and she wondered if reality could stand up to what she’d experienced that night.
One of his hands moved behind her shoulders. He gently pulled her braid out from under her back, then tugged on the rubber band holding her hair in place. With his fingers, he freed the long curls and combed them into place around her face.
When he was done, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. She wanted to feel him press against her. She wanted to absorb his heat and his strength.
He tilted his head slightly, then opened his mouth and pressed his tongue to her lower lip. She instantly parted for him. He slipped inside, a quick, confident movement that made her wonder what else he would do well. Would he know how to touch her? Would he find the right places to stroke and tease, discover the proper cadence to send her soaring into perfection?
She couldn’t answer the question and when his tongue touched hers, she didn’t care. The warmth flowed through her, as if her body were melting against his. She moved one hand to his head, to hold him in place. His hair was soft and cool beneath her questing fingers. Her breasts swelled, her nipples puckered. An aching tingle began between her legs. She wanted this…wanted him.
He shifted, sliding one leg between hers. His rock-hard thigh pressed against her feminine place. The pressure teased her with promises of what would come later. Gently, slowly, almost as if she didn’t want him to notice, she began to rock her hips up and down, sliding herself against him. The action both eased and increased the feeling of tension filling her.
“Chloe,” he breathed against her mouth. “I want you so much.”
His hands cupped her face. He lifted his head slightly, so they could look at each other. His expression was hard, his muscles tense. His breathing came in heavy bursts. Against her hip she felt the proof of his desire.
A quiet pride filled her. She didn’t know why this man wanted her. No doubt he’d met other, more exciting, prettier women. Some probably had been smarter, some funnier, but none of that mattered to her. He was in her arms, holding her close. He wanted to make love with her and she clung to that reality with every fiber of her being.
He kissed her cheek, her jawline, then forged a damp trail to her ear.
“I want you,” he repeated. “It’s like being a teenager again. I feel like I’m going to explode.” He rubbed his hardness against her hip, then groaned. “I could lose control right now.”
Boldly, not sure where the courage sprang from, Chloe slipped one hand down his chest to his jeans. She placed her hand flat against the throbbing ridge. He swore once, then bit on her earlobe. Arousal shot through her, brought on by the feel of him against her palm, the word he’d muttered and the sharp nip of his teeth.
“You’re going to make me embarrass myself,” he told her.
“Then we’ll just have to do it again until you get it right.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
His slow, masculine smile made her toes curl. She wondered where on earth she’d gotten the courage to say these things to him. Was it the dream? She wasn’t sure and she didn’t mind. With Arizona she wanted to be bold—she wanted to be the kind of woman he would want and admire.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. This time he didn’t wait—this time he plunged inside instantly and she was ready for him. Her tongue met his. They brushed against each other, circled, stroking. She inhaled his breath. Her body softened against his hardness, dampening, swelling, readying. She continued to move herself up and down against his thigh. Her panties were wet and she had the feeling that if she could just figure out the right spot or rhythm, something wonderful would happen.
One of his hands moved down her neck to her shoulder. From there he traveled across her chest to her right breast. She arched against him, encouraging him to touch her there. Her skin tingled, her nipple was hard, her body ached with a need that threatened to overwhelm her.
He slid over the curve, then cupped her. Through the layers of her clothing—bra, T-shirt, sweatshirt—she felt him move in a circle, as if discovering all of her. Chloe was pleased with her long, slender legs, could live with her butt and hips, but she’d always felt self-conscious about her small breasts. She thought they were fine, but compared to those she saw in magazines, she knew she was bound to disappoint some men.