I blinked at him, at his admission.
“You . . .” My lips parted and I blinked some more. “I-you . . .”
I was well and truly stunned, because those weren’t the words I’d been bracing for.
Meanwhile, Jethro continued staring at my skin, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on the front of my shoulder, as though spellbound. He pulled the strap farther down, his other hand doing the same to the second strap until my chest was bare to his eyes. Bending at the waist, his strong fingers sliding to my back and pressing me forward, he licked a wet trail around the center of my breast, sucking me into his mouth with an abandoned groan.
We were moving.
He was moving us, walking me backward to the bed. My fingers were in his hair, my nails anchored to his scalp, holding him to me. Tingly sparks ignited beneath my skin, racing over my body. Large, strong hands held me in place as he devoured my skin, biting and sucking, soothing the marks with his hot tongue.
And I was moving.
I slid my hands to his jeans, enjoying how the muscles beneath his plain white tee tensed and hardened under my fingertips. Unfastening the button, then the zipper, I reached for him, my fingers greedy. He hissed as I cupped and stroked him through his boxers. The feel of him, so hard and ready, awakened some primitive part of my mind.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeated, but this time I got the impression he was speaking to himself. His fingers dug into my hips, his thumbs dipping into the band of my shorts, hooking in the elastic. “I want to make love to you.”
“Jethro,” I panted, his words sobering me only slightly, the anticipation both sweet and tortuous.
His mouth met mine, and he kissed me tenderly, yet I could feel how he held himself back. Every muscle strained, tight, rigid.
“Silly Sienna, smart Sienna,” he continued on a low growl against my lips, one hand threading through my hair, the other dipping into my shorts and panties, inching them down my hips. “Sexy Sienna.”
I rushed to say, “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”
He hesitated, but just for a split second, and then he was wrapping the bulk of my hair around his hand and tugging, exposing my neck. The action made me arch, my breasts lifting. He lavished the exposed skin with hot, hungry kisses, my shorts and panties now past my hips to my thighs.
I wanted him, badly. Yet even though his touch burned like fire, my blood simmering—my body hot and aching—I didn’t want him for just one night. I couldn’t remove this thought, this worry from my mind.
He loved me.
He loved me and wanted to make love to me. Right now.
Meanwhile, I wanted the forever he’d promised and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.
“Wait.” I withdrew my fingers from his pants and gripped his shoulders. The wet trail he left exposed to the cool air made me shiver as he traveled lower, easing me onto the bed.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked gruffly, using his knee to spread my legs as soon as my back hit the mattress.
“No. I don’t want you to stop. But I—”
“Shhh.” His hot breath fanned over my stomach, his hands tugging at the camisole around my waist, lifting it so he could tongue my belly button.
I groaned then swallowed, removing my hands from his shoulders, squeezing my eyes shut, and forcing myself to concentrate. And when I did, I said the first words that popped into my head.
“I love you, too.”
By Mothra’s nipples, I LOVE THIS MAN!
It was everything about him, from how he was a truly talented flirt to his epic levels of capability. No matter what it was, he had it handled. Nothing in the world was more alluring than a capable man.
Jethro’s hands stilled on my thighs. In fact, he stopped moving, period. But I heard him breathe, felt his heart beat against my thigh.
“And this isn’t temporary,” I continued abruptly, pressing my fists into my closed lids. “And you made a promise to yourself, that the next person you would make love to would be your wife. I don’t want you to break your promise, but—Godzilla’s modzilla, Jethro—if you don’t stop right now, I will cheerfully contribute to your downfall and then you’ll never be rid of me.”
Saying nothing, he skimmed his fingertips around to the backs of my legs and lifted my knees, placing them over his shoulders.
“Oh. God.” I swallowed the words, gripping the sheets on either side of me reflexively, because in the next second his hot, wet, skillful mouth was on me and my body strained, entirely tuned to that one blissful spot.
He wasn’t quiet either, lapping with his tongue, sliding his fingers and groaning as my breath hitched. It felt so good, sinful and right. And I kind of hated that he was a master at this. I especially hated that he had me so turned on I couldn’t savor the feel of him. I was coming apart too soon, my body in various states of anarchy.