Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family #7)(25)

I'm burning for him, needing to touch, graze, and pull. I vaguely register we're moving, and then I feel a strange surface-tree bark-behind me. Blake is backing me up against a tree. He deepens the kiss, and my desire transforms into desperation. I need to touch him. Every cell in my body is buzzing, and the only thing that will calm me down is touching him. Or perhaps it's the reverse. I need him to touch me.

I slip my arms under his jacket, slowly running my hands down the expanse of his back, enjoying the feel of those taut muscles under my fingers. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, far from being satiated, I want more. So, I bring my hands to the front, slipping them under his shirt. I just need a little skin-on-skin contact. Once I have that, I become aware that one of his hands is on my waist. The other cups my ass, pulling me against him until our bodies are flush against one another. And sweet heavens, he is hard.

When we pull apart for air, we're both panting. Blake drops his head in the crook of my neck, resting there.

"You taste so good, Clara."

Feeling his heated breath on my skin makes it hard to think. I look over his shoulder to the surroundings, but the thick foliage of the tree and the dimming evening light is shielding us from view. 

"What are you wearing?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Your underwear. Describe it."

The last two words sound unmistakably like a command, and my body reacts before my mind, pressing into him, seeking more contact. Not answering doesn't even occur to me.

"Matching set of white cotton and silk."

"Thong or G-string?"

I lick my lips. "G-string."

"How wet are you?"

"Blake...."

"Tell me how wet you are!"

The command comes on another heated rush of breath that undoes me. I'm so turned on I don't know what to do with myself. I'm almost ashamed.

I press my thighs together. "Very."

With no small dismay, I realize my hands are still under his shirt, right at the waistband of his jeans, feeling him up. But what do I do? Do I let go? No, sir, I do not. Instead, I trace the defined lines of his abdomen, the steel muscles.

His hand goes up to my hair, tugging gently, but I have the distinct impression he's barely holding back from being rougher.

"What are you doing?" I whisper as he starts breathing in deeper.

"Calming down. Trying to think about anything other than taking you somewhere private and making you come."

I lick my lips, trying to swallow a moan. I fail. It tumbles from my lips, and Blake's reaction is almost visceral. A groan reverberates from deep within his chest. It is a pure, masculine sound, and it's calling to me on a primal level. I don't know for how long we stay like this, limbs intertwined in a manner that is passionate and tender at the same time, but I like the feeling of his arms around me.

"I can't believe you backed me up against a tree." I chuckle when he finally steps back.

"I can't believe I was able to stop at that."

Well damn. I walk around him, stepping out of the tree's crown. Blake follows my lead. I'm still a little light-headed and very turned on. I need a cold shower. Stat.

My shower, which also shares a wall with Blake's. Somehow I don't think a cold shower would help all that much.

"Let's continue our climb," I suggest.

We're silent with the effort of climbing, and then we fall into an easy conversation on the way home. But when we step into the dimly lit and narrow stairwell of our house, suddenly, the air between us is thick with tension again.

"Want to walk me up to my door?" I elbow him good-naturedly, hoping to diffuse the tension. No such luck.

"Nah, I'll just kiss you against it."

"You're something," I mutter. Blake traps my gaze with his for long seconds.

I quickly step away, unlocking my door. As I step inside the apartment, I feel a tiny bit safer, even though Blake still looks all too potent and sexy.

"Good night."

"Good night," he replies, and I close the door.

I head straight to the shower, about to turn the water on, but then I hear water noises from Blake's shower too, and for a split second, I don't move at all. I'm ridiculous. We probably showered at the same time numerous times in the weeks I've been here. Yeah, but that was before he kissed me against a tree.

A low groan follows, which really must be a loud one, but it's muffled by the wall.

And then Blake rasps out my name. My knees buckle. The realization that he's touching himself while fantasizing about me hits me with such force it knocks the breath out of my lungs. I listen intently for a few more seconds, just to make sure I'm not imagining this, but there's no mistaking the reason behind his continuous groans. I can't help it; I join in on the fantasy. Closing my eyes, I imagine him on the other side of the wall, naked, all that lean muscle and strong build on display, his hand sliding up and down his erection fast and then faster still.