Chance Encounter(38)

“I want to taste you again,” he murmured into her hair as he dropped the scarf and wrapped his arms around her.

“No kisses,” she said quickly, trying to pull back, but he held her right where he wanted her, not hurting her, not letting her go, either. “Remember? We just decided.”

He simply brushed his mouth across her cheek and jaw, to the soft spot beneath her ear, where he gently drew in a patch of skin and sucked.

Was it possible for bones to melt? “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it feels good. You feel good.” He brushed his lips over hers. “You taste good, too.” And then he used his tongue, slowly, thoroughly. Expertly.

Instant heat. Instant need.

He angled her head where he wanted her and brought her against him, hard. At the feel of him, so wild, so aroused, she shivered. He simply drew her even closer, his hands sliding over her waist, her hips, her back, untucking her shirt so he could touch bare skin, and when he did, he moaned at the feel of her.

It was a struggle to remember they had no future. That he was determined to be alone to live as he chose. That she was determined not to mess up her life again. She didn’t want to care for him, didn’t want to care for anyone this way, at least not now.

She wanted her freedom, too.

But freedom didn’t have to mean celibacy. She could want him, have him, then walk away, couldn’t she? It could be part of the adventure. Knowing that, she let herself sink into how he made her feel. He was so good at making her aware of nothing but him, at making her skin hot, her mind blank. Making her want to do things she’d never thought of before. So she kissed him back with all she had, which was with far more emotion than finesse, but he didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t stop touching him, running her hands over his corded neck, his broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest and the bunched muscles of his arms.

With a low, heartfelt groan, he pressed her back against the tree. She felt his fingers stroke her sides beneath her shirt, outlining her ribs. His warm, calloused hands skimmed over her belly, tingling every inch of her heated, damp body. “So soft,” he whispered. Nibbling his way to her ear, he let out a rough sound of pleasure as his hands closed over her breasts. His fingers were long and warm, and he glided his thumbs over her tight nipples, back and forth, making her whimper for more. One of his hands slipped down, down, past her bottom, her thighs, catching her behind the knee, lifting her leg up to his hip, so that he could press his hips to hers and glide the neediest part of him to the neediest part of her.

She nearly lost it. Her limbs turned to rubber, her vision was interrupted by stars and her head hit the tree trunk with a light thud as she cried out his name, so close, so close…

“I’ve wanted to touch you this way since I first saw you,” he whispered against her ear.

Beyond manners, beyond rational thought, much less humility, she grasped his shirt in her fists. “Then touch me. Touch me now.”

“Here?” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her throat. He sounded as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Rough. Sexy.

Well, she’d wanted wild, hadn’t she? And he was making her wild, no doubt. “Here.”

His deep, dark gaze searched hers for exactly one heartbeat before he lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. With a flick of his fingers, her front-clasp bra opened and he took her aching flesh into his hands, making them both gasp with pleasure.

She tugged off his shirt, too. So far gone she didn’t care that they had only the sky and the trees for coverage. At the sight of all his dark, edgy beauty, right here in front of her, all hot and aroused, for her, she nearly sank to the ground.

With no little amount of awe, she ran her fingers over hard muscle and hot skin that rippled with strength and quivered with desire at her touch. Marveling at the feel of him, she wanted more, and tried to get it. Bold for the first time in her life, she cupped him in her hands. He blew out a serrated breath and captured her wrists. Gathering them over her head against the tree, he looked down at her with a gaze so hot it sizzled her skin everywhere it landed.

“I want to touch you,” she murmured, flexing against the restraint, letting out a sigh when he bent to trace wet, openmouthed kisses over the column of her neck.

He groaned when she arched against him, groaned again when she rubbed her aroused, aching flesh back and forth over his erection. “Not…yet.”

Her protest ended on a shivery sigh as his lips closed over a nipple, sucking her into his warm, wet mouth, making her writhe against him, straining against the hand that still held her to the tree. His free hand slid down her body to the button at the top of her shorts. He lifted his head, staring into her eyes, and slowly undid it. Next came the rasp of her zipper. His fingers squeezed her waist, stroked the base of her spine, then skimmed lower, inside the material now, where he spread his hand wide over her bottom, kneading her bare skin, urging her to feel him, all of him, every single hard inch.

He still had her hands and gaze captive, but it was the subtle movement of his hips to hers that really held her bonded, and helplessly she thrust back, again and again, a slave to the erotic rhythm that only mocked what she really wanted. “Chance…”

“I know.” He dropped to his knees before her, slipping off one of her shoes, then the other, his fingers lingering over her thighs and calves as he skimmed off her shorts as well.