She wanted him to touch her there, on her nipples, and touch lower, between her thighs. She sighed, growing impatient.
“You’re not happy?” he asked, against her mouth.
She squirmed as his fingers played with her earlobe, lightly circling the soft tender skin again and again, making her senses swim and her head spin. “This is a bit frustrating,” she answered. “I think it’s time you just kissed me.”
His lips brushed hers again. “But I am kissing you.”
“No,” she said, arching as he found the hollow beneath her ear and did something delicious to it, so delicious that she clenched inwardly, craving his hard body filling her, warming her, satisfying her. “A proper kiss,” she insisted, no longer caring that she was supposed to resist him. Somehow reality no longer mattered, not when need licked at her veins and Jemma felt starved for sensation.
She reached up to clasp his face, her hands learning the shape of his jaw, the hard angles and planes as she pressed her lips to his, deepening the kiss, focused only on the heat between them.
He drew back after a moment, his eyes almost black in the dark pavilion interior. “Maybe we should stop. I don’t want to force you.”
“I don’t think you’re forcing me,” she said, giving her head a slight shake, as if to clear her head of the heat and need and intense physical craving to be touched. Taken.
She throbbed and pulsed in places that shouldn’t throb and pulse. “If anything, I feel as if I’m forcing you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m not being forced. Trust me.”
She stroked her hand over the warm hard plane of his face. Such a beautiful face. He was using his good looks against her. His charm, too. “You’re too good at this.”
His laughter was a deep rumble in his chest. “That’s better than being bad at this.”
“You’re making it impossible for me to resist you.”
“But you can. All you have to do is say stop, and we are done. I will never force you to do anything.”
Then his mouth traveled down her neck, over her collarbone, down her chest, to the swell of her breasts. He lips teased the underside of the breast through the fabric of her bikini, finding nerves in every place he touched. She shivered, gasping as his mouth settled over her taut nibble, sucking the tip through the fabric.
She arched as he sucked harder, the pressure of his mouth making her inner thighs clench together with need.
She was the one to tug the fabric away from her breasts, exposing her nipple, and she was the one to draw his head back down, so his lips covered her bare breast.
She sighed at the feel of his mouth on her hot skin. His lips were warm, the tip of his tongue cool, but once he took the tight bud of her nipple in his mouth, it was his mouth that felt hot, wet, and she gasped, arching into him, her hips lifting, grinding, her body on fire.
She wanted him to take her now. She wanted his hands between her thighs, peeling her bikini bottoms off, wanted him to part her knees and thrust deep into her body, filling her, making the maddening ache inside of her go away.
But he didn’t go lower, his hands stayed at her breasts, his mouth fastened to her nipple, sucking and licking, drawing hard on her, whipping her to a frenzy. Throbbing, she rolled away from him, and sat up, stunned that he’d brought her to the verge of an orgasm. She would have climaxed, too, if she hadn’t stopped him.