Project Runaway Bride(25)

And he gave it to her. Rolling the other way, he switched hands, switched breasts, pressed his pelvis even tighter against her own. Her legs were up around his hips, canting forward, straining.

She was panting when he pulled his lips from hers, but at least she wasn’t the only one. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his smooth, tanned skin glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured raggedly, his lips trailing across her collarbone, her shoulder, the slope of her breast.

Juliet tried to laugh, but it came out nothing more than a strangled gasp. “You should be inside my skin,” she managed. Barely.

What could only be described as a wicked, lascivious smile crossed his face. “I’d love to.”

Searching the top of the bed for the condom, he found it stuck to her left buttock. He chuckled as he peeled it away.

“That’s not where that goes.”

“Uh-uh,” she agreed, letting the sound roll from her throat. “Would you like me to show you where it does belong?”

The cords of his neck went taut, standing out in stark relief as he swallowed. Taking that as a yes, she snatched the plastic square from his loose fingers, tearing it open at the corner. Her own hands were trembling a bit, though, so it took her a minute to get to the thin circle of latex inside.

Finally, after struggling for so long she wanted to weep, and before Reid could yank the protection away from her in frustration and do it himself, she had the condom out and was able to cover the very tip of his straining erection.

It was hot to the touch, hard as steel, but soft as velvet at the same time. She stroked its length from the base to where the first hint of latex rested.

Reid growled low in his throat, head tipping back and nostrils flaring. “If you take too much longer with that, we’re going to miss having any real fun.”

This was fun, watching his features tighten as she toyed with him, delighting in the fact that she held him teetering on the edge. But she definitely wanted more. She wanted the real fun she knew awaited them.

Nibbling her bottom lip, she resisted the urge to explore him further and concentrated on carefully rolling the thin layer of protection into place.

Truth be told, she’d never done this before. She could count the number of men she’d been with intimately enough to require a condom on one hand, and the man she’d been with most often—Paul—tended to take care of it himself so they could get down to the perfunctory act of sex. It had been so long since she’d been with him that way, in fact, she couldn’t even remember if it had ever been more than that. Passionate, desperate, necessary instead of simply predictable and obligatory.

They hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet, and already being with Reid was heads and shoulders and arms and legs and all the naughty bits in between above anything she’d experienced with Paul.

Reid made her elbows sweat. Her toes curl. Every hair on her body stood up with static electricity just from being in the same room with him. Being naked and lying beneath him made that electricity increase in voltage about a thousand percent and zing through her bloodstream like a live wire spinning out of control.

Guilt at that thought—not to mention what she was about to do—tried to rear up, but she tamped it back down. She’d made her decision.

She knew now that she couldn’t go through with a marriage to Paul. She would have to break things off with him immediately. Was beginning to wish she’d listened to the tiny voice at the back of her head that had been nagging her for weeks now and done so already.

But for now, she wanted to be with Reid. Here, now, at least once. Damn the consequences. Whatever they were, she would deal with them in the morning.

Her fingertips lingered where she’d finished covering him and he grasped her hand, moving it where he wanted. In strong, self-assured strokes, he double-checked the smoothness of the condom, making sure it was properly in place.

Then he linked his fingers with hers and, palm to palm, raised her hands over her head to lie flat on the mattress.

“Better,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth, nipping her lips with his teeth. “Are you ready?”

Her entire body went taut, as though someone had threaded a string from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck and given it a sharp yank. She was so ready. Beyond ready. Starter-pistol-at-the-beginning-of-a-race, just-hit-Play, melted-chocolate-fountain-just-waiting-for-a-piece-of-succulent-fruit ready.

She did not, however, seem capable of simple speech. Her lips parted, but nothing came out past her dry, cottony tongue. She swallowed and tried to lick her lips...for all the good it did.