Perhaps he should have been surprised by the feminine undergarments beneath the black T-shirt. But he wasn’t, because Suzanne was the full package. Brains and beauty, serious and sensuous, all at the same time.
He’d spent the past two decades trying to make up for his behavior as a teen in the boxing ring by holding himself to perfect control everywhere else. But with Suzanne, his control wasn’t just fraying—it had shattered into so many tiny pieces that he honestly didn’t realize he’d ripped her T-shirt in two until it lay splayed open on either side of her.
If ever there was a cue that it was time to stop the madness, this should have been it. But instead of cringing away from him, Suzanne urged, “More.” She licked her lips, leaving them glossy and extra kissable. “I want more of you. More of your passion. More of everything.”
Permission granted—demanded, even—he cupped her lace-covered breasts, groaning at how perfectly they filled his large hands. His thumbs stroking her soft skin, he loved feeling the tips pucker tightly against the thin layer of yellow lace.
Bending his head, he covered the lace with his mouth, licking, sucking, biting at her flesh like a man possessed. In response, she arched her back up off the mattress, giving herself over to him completely.
He’d known all along that she would be like this in bed, utterly unashamed, totally unafraid to follow wherever passion led. The fact that she wouldn’t balk at anything—and that she would find pleasure wherever he did—made him even crazier. So crazy that, yet again, he was barely aware of what he was doing as he caught his teeth on the thin lace threads that held her bra together at the center and tore them apart. All he knew was that there was no going back. Definitely not tonight. Maybe not ever.
Because once he had Suzanne—once he had all of her—nothing would ever be as good. He already craved the taste of her, was a slave to her scent, was addicted to her sounds of pleasure.
His hands and mouth vied for possession of her breasts as he moved over her to take everything he so badly wanted. But he couldn’t get enough of her, no matter how much he stroked, caressed, kissed, nipped. Again and again he loved first one breast, then the other, then both together. Her hips rose up against his as she said his name in a voice that grew more hoarse by the second.
“Roman. Please.” He’d never heard anything more beautiful than the sound of her begging him to help her find release. “I’m so close.”
The thought of taking her over that first peak with nothing more than his hands and mouth at her breasts nearly took him over the edge.
It was pure male instinct to push the hard ridge of his still fully clothed erection into the heated vee between her legs at the same moment that he cupped both of her breasts and suckled hard. In the space between heartbeats, every muscle in her body tensed, then let go as she went pliant with pleasure, undulating her hips beneath his to catch the waves of bliss that washed over her, through her.
When her climax finally subsided, she lay back against the pillow looking at him with a lazy smile on her face. “That was amazing.”
And it was only the beginning.
He’d kept her jeans on to force himself to go slowly, but he was going to lose it soon if he couldn’t finally see, touch, taste every glorious inch of her. He had her sneakers off and the dark denim on the floor within seconds, leaving her clad only in yellow lace panties.
In an effort to regain even the tiniest bit of his self-control, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But the scent of her arousal only revved him higher, pushing him that much closer to the edge of madness.
Reverently, he knelt between her long, toned legs and reached to cup her lace-covered sex. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she rubbed herself against his hand. “Do it again, Roman. Make me come apart again. With your hands. With your mouth. Any way you want me, I want it too.”
He was already more than halfway to doing everything she wanted, but he understood why she was saying the words aloud. Because after spending so long vowing to resist her and believing it was the only honorable path forward, she obviously wanted him to know that he wasn’t doing anything she didn’t want him to do.
He wanted to tell her that he was going to make her come at least a half-dozen different ways tonight, with each climax better than the one before, but he couldn’t get the words out. Not when he was wholly focused on hooking his thumbs into the edge of her panties and slowly sliding them down. He barely had them off when he had to cup her again and stroke her wet, hot skin.
She was slippery with arousal, his fingers sliding back and forth over her until he couldn’t stand not to go inside, first with one finger and then a second. Looking at her face, he realized she was watching him touch her, watching herself lift into his hand so that she could take him deeper with each stroke.