Pitch Imperfect(56)
Anjuli’s jaw dropped. She didn’t have time to snap it shut because Rob did it for her, covering her mouth with his. If there had been any violence in him, any arrogance or domination, she would have fought him tooth and nail. But he stroked her tongue with slow, deliberate sensuality and oh, God, he was good at that. His kiss was filled with a longing to match hers and responding to it was as instinctive as breathing.
She couldn’t move or protest. The irresistible pressure of his lips, the tantalising stroke of his tongue. The taste of his mouth. They all combined to create a kiss that sighed its way through her barriers. A kiss that claimed her, heart and soul.
His mouth left hers for the madly pumping vein at her neck and his jaw scraped her skin. Her thighs flooded with heat and trembled, and when she gripped his arms to steady herself she realised that he was trembling also, that the heart underneath her palm was in tune with hers.
Anjuli’s mind trilled with guilt, but her body thrummed its own song, coming alive under the hands sliding up her torso. Her flimsy strap proved no match for Rob’s swift tug. It slipped down her shoulder, followed by the slide of silky fabric against her rigid nipple and cold breeze on her skin. Rob’s breath caught as her firm, heavy breast filled his hand, and his careful control gave way to a carnal caress. She tried to tell him to stop, to let her go because she didn’t want this, and moaned into his mouth. He answered her, pressing her into the fence with his hips.
Slightly calloused fingers circled the taut flesh around her nipple until it puckered and strained for his touch. She sank into him, wanting more. He gave it to her, blanketing her aching breast with his hot, wet mouth. He tasted her hungrily. Possessively. Grazing her with his teeth and leaving her in no doubt of what he wanted.
Anjuli’s back arched and her pussy swelled with wet, pulsing need. Her head went back and when she opened her eyes Orion looked down at her, aiming for his target. Rob’s hand stroked her naked thigh, slender fingers reaching under the thin strip of her thong and then she just stopped thinking.
* * *
God, she’s gorgeous. Rob cupped Anjuli’s head and drew her lips back to his, not wanting to give her the chance to ask him to stop. She belonged in his arms, trembling with need and desire. Giving herself to him and taking everything he had in return. She was gasping into him. Responsive. Her nipples rigid and hot as he licked and kissed and sucked. Her sounds of delight sent an answering thrill straight to his groin.
As always when he wore a kilt, he was commando. Her moan showed she could feel how much he wanted her, her gyrating hips that she was far from indifferent. The knowledge spiked his hunger, pumping more blood to his stone-hard shaft. He wanted to make love to her like she had dared him to. Here. Now. He was so aroused he didn’t care where he was or who happened by. Lust pumped through his veins, but it was joy that fed his desire, fanning it until he felt like he would burst.
Anjuli had lied to him in London! He’d suspected—no, known—it but hearing her say she hadn’t fantasised about her ex while he made love to her released the last of his doubts about her need for him. She didn’t want Brendan and she didn’t want Damien, either. He would know if she had given her heart away. He was the man she was kissing with abandon. She might not love him anymore, but she still had feelings for him that went beyond casual sex. He could hear it in her voice and feel it in her kiss.
He’d tried to stay away. God, how he’d struggled to quash his yearning for her, to tell himself he wanted only to get her back into bed. But convincing himself he didn’t love her had become impossible the second she had kissed Damien.
Watching Anjuli dance with the womanising vet had been torture, but seeing them kiss had split his chest open like a chunk of wood on the block. Then she’d laughed and her eyes had sparkled—sparkled, God damn it—as Damien whirled her around the floor. He wanted to be the man bringing out her smile and making her happy.
Making her come.
There was only one woman for him and there always had been. Other men might scoff at his single-mindedness. Tell him he belonged on another planet for not taking what both Sarah Brunel and Penny Jameson had offered him tonight. They could go right ahead. What he and Anjuli could have again—both of them changed, yet the same in ways that mattered—was worth fighting for.
He would swallow his pride and tell Anjuli why he hadn’t answered her letters. Tell her how much he’d missed her and how no other woman had been able to fill the void she’d left behind. And then he would convince her to give them another chance and make love to her.
He would listen to her and give her whatever she needed to be happy. Pleasure her and love her until she was lax and satiated against him. And if they didn’t stop, it would happen right here under the stars.