One Perfect Night(16)

When he finally put her down in his bedroom, letting her curves slide slowly over his muscles until her feet touched the floor, he put his hands on either side of her face and stared down at her. His chest clenched tight at the depth of her beauty. Just looking at her—without yet touching anything but her face—had his breath coming in ragged pants.

"I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for you," he said right before he finally gave in to the need to have her, the greed that had been eating him up since the first moment he’d held her in the snow in Lake Tahoe. He ran kisses from her mouth, over the arch of her cheekbones, to the gorgeous curve of her neck.

She smelled like rain and red wine and woman and his head spun with wanting her. Maybe if he were a better man, he could have held back longer, could have been more patient, could have given her more reasons to trust him.

But right now all that mattered was making her his.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and ran them over her silky shirt until he found three little buttons just behind her neck and undid them. A moment later, she was raising her arms for him so that he could slip the shirt over her head. Every inch of skin that he uncovered he had to cover with his mouth. As he slowly drew her shirt up and off and discovered the places that made her gasp with pleasure—the upper swell of her breasts, the indentation of her belly button, the hollow of her shoulder—he lingered there and there and there to please them both.

When he finally let her shirt fall to the floor and lifted his mouth from her skin, his breath caught in his throat again. She was wearing a pink lace and silk bra that was so fine it was nearly translucent. He wanted to leave it on her so that he could memorize her beauty...but primal need was urging him to rip it off her, too.

He lowered his mouth and flicked one taut peak with his tongue, and when she moaned and arched into him, her hands threading into his hair so that she could hold him close, he had to close his lips over her nipple on a moan of his own. She moved against him, pure sensual woman, and he drank in the sound of her shuddering breaths, the way she trembled with need. Unable to resist, he drew down the cups of the bra with rougher hands than he would have if he’d been less desperate for her, if he hadn’t spent the last week wishing for this moment.

Just looking at her like this had Noah forgetting every other woman he’d ever been with. Colbie’s skin was lightly flushed, and her full, rose-tipped breasts beckoned him. He cupped them in his large hands, stroking the soft flesh reverently...until his greed and boundless hunger for her took him over again.

With a harsh yank on delicate fabric, he pulled the bra completely off and let it fall. He lowered his mouth to her again, only this time there was no silk, no lace between them while he teased her, and himself, with long strokes of his tongue and the gentle slide of his teeth over sensitive flesh.

Noah wanted her so damn much, a wanting that went so far beyond desire that it could only mean one thing.

He was falling head over heels for her, had started falling the second she’d lifted her head from the snow in Lake Tahoe and looked into his eyes. One look was all it had taken for him to see not only how beautiful she was, but also how sweet.

With his hands, he cupped her exquisite breasts and when she arched into his hands and mouth, he couldn’t stifle a groan of pleasure. He moved his mouth away so that her nipples beaded against his palm. He couldn’t wait for other nights when he’d spend hours on her breasts, where he’d taste and tease her with his lips and tongue and teeth, when he could let the greed rest for long enough to play. But as she whispered, "I love the way you touch me," he knew savoring her, teasing and tempting her until she was begging for release, would have to come later.

Her lush curves had driven him crazy even on the ski slopes when he’d caught her as they fell and he’d held her against him to keep her safe. Noah wasn’t an ass man. He wasn’t a breast man. He wasn’t a leg man.

He was an everything man.

With lips and hands, he caressed every inch of her skin as he continued to undress her, sliding the zipper of her skirt down so that it, too, could drop onto his bedroom floor with her blouse.

"You look like an angel," he said when she stood before him in nothing but the sexiest lingerie he’d ever seen. "A naughty angel."

"I was wearing the same thing when we were making snow angels," she told him, "underneath my ski clothes."

"If I had known that—" He took her all the way to the bed and laid her on it, her hair spread out across the pillow, her body lush, her skin soft, his every dream come true. "—I wouldn’t have let you go."