annoying.”
Sam let out a soft chuckle as his hands went gently to her upper arms. “You’re
that good, huh?”
Tell him.
She opened her mouth to spill her guts as he turned her toward him. “Sam—”
His expression went from aroused man to concerned friend in the flash of an
instant, and she hadn’t even begun.
“What is it?” he asked. “You look scared to death.”
And just like that, her resolve to come clean was washed away by a tidal wave of
pride. Sam was slipping into big-brother mode, and if he knew what a crucial
moment this was for her, he wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.
Riley very deliberately latched onto the long-dormant lust that was churning
through every part of her body and let it overtake the fear.
And for the first time, she kissed him.
His fingers dug into her shoulders, threatening to push her back, but Riley was
one step ahead of him, pressing her body against his as her arms went around
his neck.
She let her tongue find his, and his fingers tightened again, but this time it was to
pull her closer. One of his hands slid to cup the back of her head as the other
wound around her waist, pulling her close.
They were mouth to mouth, stomach to stomach, toe to toe. Exactly as they’d
always been meant to be.
She lost track of how long they stood there kissing in the quiet dark, his hands
sliding up her rib cage to rest just beneath her br**sts, his thumbs touching their
undersides lightly.
Helplessly, she tilted her h*ps against his just as his hand slid upward to cover
her. Riley moaned. He pulled away from the kiss just enough to watch his hand
moving over her, his thumb finding and pressing her nipple through the fabric of
her bra and shirt.
And then the shirt was gone, and she stood before him in a black lace bra and
skirt.
Sam ran his fingers over the top curve of her br**sts before sliding his hands
down to cup them, lifting them for his inspection.
He bent his head, brushing his lips reverently against her. “Damn, Riley.”
Then she was on her back on the bed, his fingers quickly finding the zipper of her
skirt and sliding it over her hips.
“You weren’t kidding about the lingerie,” he said, his voice husky, his hands
circling her waist as he looked her over.
Smiling through her nerves, she pushed herself into a sitting position and her
hands went for the hem of his shirt as her fingers slid under and touched him, just
slightly.
She hesitated then, not sure what to do next, but Sam took charge, quickly pulling
the sweater up and over his head, taking his undershirt with it, in that easy way
men had, not worrying about messing up their hair or makeup.
Sam Compton didn’t need any lingerie to look fantastic without a shirt.
She’d seen him in his swim trunks before, so she’d known what she was getting:
perfection. But being able to touch was another thing entirely, and the feel of his
warm skin was better than she’d ever imagined, and she’d done a lot of imagining.
Sam gently eased her all the way back against the pillows before stretching out
beside her, one hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before his
fingers brushed the tiny scrap of black lace.
Riley squirmed, but instead of putting his fingers where she ached to be touched,
he slid his hand to the outside of her hip, his fingers pressing her into the bed as
his lips found her neck.
His mouth made love to her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone.
When he finally moved to her br**sts, she wondered if she was being too passive,
but from the way his breath was coming hot and fast against her skin, she didn’t
think he minded.
His hands slid around behind her to the clasp of her bra, and she arched her back
to give him access, panicking only slightly when she lay topless beneath him.
Sam brushed a finger against the tip of one breast, then the other, and they both
watched as her ni**les puckered for him.
His warm mouth wrapped around her, and she gasped. They’d been moving at a
slow, unhurried pace, but it was more frantic now, her nails scratching at him as
he let his teeth touch her softly.
Riley’s hands slid down, not quite bold enough to go for the button of his jeans
just yet, but exploring the bulge of his erection through the thick denim, relishing
the way he groaned against her chest when she pressed softly.
“Is this okay?” she asked softly.
“What do you think?” he asked, with a teasing nip against her belly.
I have no idea.
But instinct took over, and her fingers undid the button with only the slightest bit
of faltering.
Riley’s hand dipped into his jeans, under his briefs, her palm finding the hot, hard
length of him at the exact second his fingers dipped beneath her panties and