“Jack,” she sighed. “Don’t make me wait.”
He scooped her up and placed her in the middle of his bed, her pale skin reminding him of fresh cream. The tumble of her reddish-blonde hair spread across his pillow had him desperate to touch her, taste her, make love to her.
Shucking off his jeans, he ripped his T-shirt over his head and knelt on the foot of the bed and slowly, watching desire fill her eyes, climbed up the bed until his skin brushed against her toes. Masculine muscle, coiled to release, rubbed against surprisingly firm feminine leg muscles, lower abs, belly, and finally, finally, apple-firm breasts.
Settling himself in the notch between her legs, her heat teased him, but he wanted to go slow…to taste…to savor. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled. “You smell good enough to eat.”
She traced the tips of her fingers up the backs of his thighs, skimming over scar tissue, to his backside, and grabbed hold of him.
“I can’t go slow if you keep doing that.” When she licked her lips, he groaned, taking her under with a bone-tingling kiss. When he came up for air, he leaned over her to open the drawer in the bedside table. Pushing back to his knees, he covered himself and then swept his hands beneath her backside, lifting her up so he could go deep.
He knew now that she was hot, tight, and fit him like a glove. There was no need to rush—they had all night. Taking his time, he slid in all the way to the hilt, then just as slowly pulled out, poising at the entrance to her delicious warmth.
Dragging out their pleasure just might be the death of him, but what a way to go. Blind to everything except the need to make love with Caitlin, he focused on the woman in his arms, and the sudden desire to make her scream.
***
Cait lifted her hips to take Jack deeper. Higher and higher, faster and faster, she was whipping toward peak—again. He was a devastating lover…one she was in danger of losing her heart to.
How had this happened so quickly? She’d made love before. Why did it feel as if everything hung in the balance this time?
He shifted and swiveled his hips, shattering her into a thousand pieces. Her hands lost their grip and slid bonelessly to the bed.
“Cait?”
She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the eyes of her lover, a man she never thought to have, but now that she experienced what could be between them, she wasn’t going to give him up.
“Am I too heavy?”
Just as she was wondering if she’d be able to form a coherent thought, he had his hands on either side of her face, cupping it gently, looking into her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head.
He relaxed and pulled her close before rolling onto his side. “You get to me, Cait.”
“Is that a good thing or bad thing?”
He chuckled. “Good, definitely good…I love watching you come in my arms. Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered against her ear.
She snuggled her backside against him, eliciting a low rumbling moan from deep inside him. “I was thinking that I’ve never felt half of what you make me feel. Does that make me semifrigid…or you amazingly hot?”
He wrapped his arms across her chest and laid his cheek against the top of her head. “Does insanity run in your family?”
She snickered. “There were times when I was little when I swore Megan was nuts.”
He tightened his hold and told her, “Meg’s great…she had a lot of pressure going to school, taking care of you and Grace, and then working with your dad.”
“You’ve mentioned that before.”
“We were pretty good friends. She used to talk to me when she was worried that she wasn’t living up to what she thought your mom would have wanted.”
“I wish I’d known—”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything. Meg did the best she could and would have worried no matter what.”
“Yeah…it’s that Irish Catholic guilt we all suffer from.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Guys have it too?”
“Absolutely. Some of us succumb to the guilt—and then some of us join the navy.”
She was laughing when he laid his lips on hers. Brilliant colors filled her mind as he built the tension between them again. Wanting to give as much as she received, she ran her hands up over his shoulders, then down his back to the taut backside she wanted to take a bite of.
Deciding she’d waited long enough, she pushed against him hard enough that he lifted his lips and stared down at her with one brow lifted in question. She took advantage of the situation and pushed him onto his stomach, slithering onto him, touching, teasing, tasting as she made her way to the gluts she adored.