She dug her nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled. This was really happening. She didn’t dare open her eyes until he gently laid her on the bed and settled his weight on top of her. The hunger etched on his face nearly overwhelmed her, making her squirm underneath him in anticipation.
Finally able to explore, she ran her fingers up and down his back, feeling the expansion of his rib cage as he breathed heavily. She reveled in the fact she could affect him like this. Her. As someone who never held a single moment of power off the stage, to have it over this man emboldened her to release her inhibitions.
She raised her head, nipped his lower lip then soothed it with the tip of her tongue. He groaned and tried to kiss her, but she shifted her attention to the sexy stubble on his chin, nuzzling it with her cheek. She shivered, anticipating feeling the abrasive hair on the inside of her thighs. She ran her teeth down his neck and sucked the flesh into her mouth. God, he tasted so good. Salty and sweet, just like her favorite kettle corn—only better, because it was Ryan. How would he taste . . . lower?
He growled. “Enough, Portia.”
Just when she thought she couldn’t be more aroused, she found her arms above her head, Ryan gripping both her wrists in one of his large hands. Her heart hammered, its beat matching the one between her legs.
“Keep your hands there,” he commanded with a hint of raspiness in his voice. “It’s my turn to taste you.”
As if she’d say no? She pressed her lips together and gave him a quick nod, trying to remember what panties she wore. Not that he could see much in the dark—
He flicked on the Tiffany lamp, his devilish grin coming into full view. “I’ve waited two months for this. I don’t want to miss a damn thing when I make love to you for the first time.”
Oh my . . .
He settled between her legs and pushed against her thighs as if he was planning on staying there awhile. Inch by inch, he raised her dress, baring her to his gaze. Thank the heavens she’d worn her Victoria’s Secret pink lace.
His fingers found their way to her belly button ring. “How did I not know about this?” He seemed mesmerized, flicking the gold hoop between his fingers. “This is so fucking sexy. What other secrets are you keeping from me?” He looked up at her. “Take off your dress. You can use your hands, but you have to put them back when you’re finished.”
The feminist in her wanted to protest against his orders, but her lady parts had hogtied and muzzled her. Sure, she’d had sex before. Fumbling sex in the back of a car. Polite sex where the guy gave her a quick orgasm with his fingers before he thrust inside her for two minutes then took her out to dinner. Sex where she counted how many times the ceiling fan went around before she faked her climax to end her torment so she could get to the part where he held her in his arms. But the kind of sex where the man could get her off with only his thigh? This kind?
She lifted the dress up and over her head. Ooh, good. Matching pink lace bra with front clasp. Not that she needed to wear a bra.
Trembling, she fell back on the bed and resumed her position. Would Ryan think her breasts were too small?
“Quit thinking so hard,” he murmured, suddenly between her cleavage—well, where her cleavage should be—and with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb, he unclasped her bra and peeled it off. “Perfect,” he said on a sigh.
Thinking? How could she think with his finger stroking the swells of her breasts? Bombarded with need and overwhelming lust, her mind went blissfully blank for the first time in years. Right now, her sole goal in life was to feel Ryan’s mouth on her.
She drew in a ragged breath and marveled at the sight of him lowering his lips to her nipple. When he sucked it into his hot mouth, she involuntarily arched into him and whimpered. He chuckled, obviously pleased by her reaction, and scraped his teeth across the bud as he moved to torment the other breast.
She wanted to touch him, tug at that brown hair and pull him up for a kiss. Or even better, push him lower down her body to soothe the ache between her legs. Teetering on the edge of climax, all it would take was one nibble on her clit to make her soar. But he seemed content to taunt and tease her, continuing to mold his hands and mouth to her breasts. If he wouldn’t take her there, she’d have to do it herself. Hooking her naked calves around his thighs, she bowed her back and ground her pelvis against his solid chest.
“Tsk. Tsk.” He tilted his chin up to chastise her, his caramel eyes boring into hers. “Don’t you trust me?”
She didn’t understand what he was asking. What did trust have to do with trying to get herself off? “Yes, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”